Power Rangers 1. Chapter 1: Just a Little Bit of History

HARTLAND

By: KSuzie

Chapter One: Prolog: Just a Little Bit Of History Repeating

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_Author's Update__: In answer to a few questions I've had, no, chapter 1 of Hartland is not particularly necessary to the story until the very end. You can easily skip it and begin the Wild West Ranger adventure with chapter 2, then , if you get confused, go back and read chapter one. Also, I completely understand the frustration with assigning classic PR characters weird powers, so let me just say that my giving Kimberly power over time portals actually stemmed from the original Wild West episode. When looking for possible ramifications to her Muirantian experience later on, I wanted the pit to simply emphasize innate or latent talents they already had, not new powers out of the blue. Weird side effects of the morphers and morphanological energy are part of the real PR canon, so I drew on that aspect. No one knew where the portal came from, so I drew a long stretch and assumed that the talent to open that portal was something she was only just beginning to discover at that time. How those powers would be utilized as she grew to adulthood however, is purely out of my imagination and covered more fully in the Coins._

_Hope that helps!_

_K._

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Author's Note:

_ Hartland takes place between chapters 15 and 16 of The Coins. This chapter will recap the major events in Chapter 15 that pertain to this story, but will assume the reader is familiar with The Coins in general. For more information about the physical changes in Kimberly and Jason after leaving Muirantias, please read The Coins: Chapter 1: History. _

_**The story of Hartland will begin to move forward with Chapter Two: The Return of Calamity Kim.**_

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_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney, Carri to KJ, and everything else belongs to me._

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_**1:05 AM Two days after Thanksgiving 2007**_

_Tommy was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because if he squeezed his left hand hard enough, he could just barely feel his wedding ring on his finger. The scene before him hadn't happened, but it had haunted him in his sleep every night since he'd swallowed his pride and begged the supposedly reformed Rita for the information on how to save Kimberly from certain death. But the dream was still very, very real and the panic and the grief all consuming to his unconscious mind. _

_Kim was dead. He had refused to search out Rita to save his ex-girlfriend from the effects of Kemora's force field. She had died without him ever telling her how much he still loved her. It was a nightmare he experienced over and over again. As he watched Jason tear himself apart in grief, he just stood there, refusing to look at her lifeless form and unable to fathom what had just happened._

_He knew he would wake soon, that she would be there and everything would be fine, but caught up in the throes of the dream, he just wasn't sure and a sense of pure panic enveloped him. He could change it, he had to change it, she couldn't be dead, it wasn't happening. He knew he could fix it; he could change time itself….he tried to force himself out of the panic, but this time he couldn't. It was black and cold and all enveloping. His heart pounded in his chest until it nearly exploded….and then it was gone; dissolved into a million colors._

Waking instantly, he gasped for air and quickly threw his arm out to assure himself that Kim was next to him. He'd unfairly wake her, he knew that, but he desperately needed to feel her there. However, unlike the other nightmares he'd woken from, this time his arm met with an empty space. Still under the effects of the dream, he panicked and jumped up, tearing the sheets off and searching the room for her. There was no one there.

The room was dark and quiet except for the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. He wiped his hand over his face, only to discover that he was sweating profusely. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and walked to the tiny master closet. He opened it cautiously, terrified by what he might not find, and immediately collapsed in relief against the door at the sight of her clothes. It was alright. She was there and they had really gotten married yesterday. At that thought, he looked down at his left hand and spied his wedding ring, which further confirmed he had been sound asleep and dreaming. But that left the question as to where is wife was now. A quick search of the house and yard proved she was definitely missing, but where would she go in the middle of the night without telling him?

Quickly, he returned to the bedroom and dressed, immediately transporting to the Command Center. Wherever Kim had gone, he'd be able to trace her communicator signal from there.

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1:11 AM

Since leaving Muirantias, Kim's ability to manipulate time portals had grown exponentially, but she knew she was pushing things on this particular night. Although she could open a travel portal and return no more than a few minutes later, the process drained her of energy. Opening more than one portal and "timing it," as she called it, more than once in any given twenty-four hour period; left her exhausted and weak. She knew she'd pushed herself too far this particular night as the sick jetlag feeling swirled around nauseously in her stomach; indicating her Circadian rhythm was out of whack.

She sighed heavily, as she entered the room and her two friends trudged in wearily after her. Leaving the small bundle she was carrying on the only table in the secure room, she waved her hand over a hidden consol. It sprang to life and, with a quick glance at what time it was on the outside world, she keyed a sequence. It beeped and produced a small crystal which, after a moment of concentration, disappeared in a flash of light from her palm.

"You send that to Tom?" Jason asked and she nodded.

"Netau's getting suspicious." She said absently. "Better he use a time crystal to come here rather than me try and travel back to the 18th Century so soon after closing out another blue world."

"Jesus Christ." He swore irritably. What she was doing made him uncomfortable at best; if she were ever caught…"That's all we need Kim." He fumed. "God damnit, did we have to bring another one back?"

"She made me swear I'd take care of him." Kim said absently, although she knew it was a lame excuse at best. "What should I have done? Left him there to die?" She asked and he gave her a look that very clearly stated she should have.

But Jason didn't know half of what she was doing with her rescued infants; he didn't need to know. Blue worlds were dead worlds. They were found in dimensions doomed to be dominated by evil; where humanity was usually eliminated. It couldn't be helped; it maintained the balance of power between good and evil. Where a one world lived, another died. That was the whole focus of their work with the Dimension Guardians; preserving the balance of power in the universe.

"And just how many times are we gonna do this?" He asked in an irritated manner.

"As many as it takes." She commented. "History records Tom and his wife had nine children, all of which survived. This one makes four."

"But we've brought back more than that." Her friend Carri said, frowning. Jason gave her a surprised look, but she ignored him.

"It's not safe to place them all in one family." Kim said absently, opening a small drawer and pulling out several items which looked suspiciously like colonial style, period clothing.

"Damnit Kim," Jason said loudly, slapping one hand firmly down on the counter. "If you're caught…" He started, but he couldn't finish, the loud bang had woken the infant and it wailed indignantly.

"Come on Jase.." Kim groaned, frustration catching up with her too. It had been a long day and she still had the baby to settle with Tom and then sneak home before her own Tommy woke up. She pushed him aside and scooped up the wailing bundle, cradling the newborn against her shoulder.

She was just as tired as they were. She didn't like these assignments either, but they had to be done. Blue worlds had to be cleaned of anything the Evil Empire might use against them dimensionally; which included any traces of Zordon's interdimensional experiments. She didn't need to explain any extra circular activities to them. The presence of these kids in the past of their world and in other dimensions was stabilizing the present. She didn't know why, it just was. So far no one else had successfully managed to stabilize it except for herself and Thomas; an alternate of Tommy from another dimension who had become part mentor and part supervisor to her. She would continue as long as she had to.

It had started simply enough. On one of her first assignments to a alternate blue lined world with Thomas, the dying Kimberly had begged her to take her son with her and keep him safe. Thomas had coldly turned his back on the woman and ordered her home before the last of humanity was completely destroyed on that planet. Kim had obeyed but, using her own fledgling Muirantian powers to open another portal, returned almost as soon as she left. She quickly took the screaming toddler from his grateful mother; swearing she'd do her best to protect him. She never forgot that alternate Kimberly, but what to do with the toddler was harder to solve than she thought. The Dimensional Guardians had very strict rules, the child would die instantly if it was discovered what she'd done and so, probably, would she.

Fortunately, a solution presented itself almost immediately. Through a strange quirk of fate, she'd been re-united with Tommy's clone, who resided in her world's colonial past. Tom wasn't supposed to exist either. He had been cloned by the Green Wizard to destroy Tommy, but instead of being destroyed himself, as he had in most dimensions, he had turned to the good. In return, Zordon had allowed him to travel to and live his life in Angel Grove's earliest settlement days.

For the most part, Tom was happy with his life. The only sadness that seemed to hover over him was that he didn't seem to be able to give his wife children. Although the clone was the biological twin of Tommy, just how Tom was cloned remained unknown. He couldn't bear to see his wife unhappy and had called on Kimberly for help. When she arrived on their doorstep, toddler in tow, it was seen as a miracle to them both. Kimberly was never quite sure how it happened, but it worked and she really hadn't questioned why.

When Thomas had found out he'd been beyond furious. Kim had never encountered the kind of anger he showed her and she was honestly afraid for her own life for a while; until he gave her a chance to explain. History revealed that Tom and his wife had nine children and all lived to adulthood and prospered. How, Kim argued, could he have produced nine children if he was a sterile clone? All of those children had lived and their descendents had played major roles in the development of her world's history. The children had come from somewhere and Zordon's own records indicated each and every one of them was genetically related to him. Besides, even though she'd interfered, the timeline hadn't budged; obviously she'd been meant to do it.

In the last five years of working interdimensionally, she'd rescued seven children from dying worlds. Not all of them were the children of alternate Kimberlys; she'd rescued one of Adam's and a few were Kat's; including the newborn in front of her. So far, she'd been lucky. Wherever she'd placed a child, the timeline remained stable, but she knew the odds were not in her favor and it was only a matter of time before she screwed up.

As the baby quieted, she made her way back across the room to the others, but on the way back Jason suddenly swung his leg out, stopping her. "The ring." He said pointedly, indicating the newly banned finger she'd shown up with at the start of their mission. In response, she sighed heavily and tossed him a patient look.

"Tommy and I eloped yesterday morning." She said simply. Simultaneously, the other two swore in a loud, exasperated tones and the baby erupted in protest again.

"I cannot believe you let him control you like this." Jason yelled and Kimberly rolled her eyes.

She and Tommy hadn't been together again all that long. He had saved her from the demon Kemora and in turn realized he still loved her. For her part, she'd never really stopped loving him, but he was overwhelming her with his exuberance since returning. He wanted them to be partners in everything, yet his natural tendency to take charge had ended up dominating her. It was difficult thing to balance. She'd been given a second chance with him and didn't want to screw it up before it even began, but she chaffed at being dominated; even if she knew it was unintentional. She agreed with Jason that Tommy had moved them both too fast into marriage, but it had been her decision and her friend needed to stay out of it.

"He's not controlling me." Kim argued, turning to the small synthetron and ordering a bottle for the baby.

"Oh for god's sake." Jason groaned, rubbing his eyes and leaning against the wall. "Kimberly, does it even occur to you that he's totally taken charge over you? I love you sweetheart, and I understand you're torn and how easy it is for you to let him manipulate you, but you have got to stand up to him, now more than ever. Sweetheart, I get it, you love him, you don't want to blow it again. I know he doesn't mean it maliciously, but can't you see that's what he does? I love the man like a brother, but he swoops in and takes charge, damn the consequences, and never looks back. You've got to stand up to him and demand he respect you."

"This isn't a matter of who's the big bad red leading the team Jase, I do stand up to him." Kim said firmly and Jason rolled his eyes in frustration. "He's just really good at backing off and wiggling up to me another way until he gets what he wants." She admitted." Look, whatever you feel, this was my decision. Besides… it was a good idea to go ahead and get married. It's over with and now we don't have to worry."

"Why?" Jason asked, eyes narrowing. Something about the way she'd said it didn't sit well with him. She winced slightly and raised the baby up to her shoulder, burping it. After a long silence she just looked at him and shrugged.

"What's going on Kim?" He asked warily. She took a deep breath and then looked him directly in the eyes.

"The Dimensional Guardians have ruled that since Tommy interfered and saved my life, I need to catch up with the other Kimberlys of my age group who have grown up and married their Tommys. They've ordered me to produce children as quickly as possible or they'll interfere."

Jason exploded, he couldn't help it; storming around and firing off a tirade that made both girls blanch and the newborn began to wail again. Kim stood up with an icy look and began to walk with it, patting it's back and crooning until it settled down.

"We agreed we'd never spread the Muirantian genes to another generation." He growled. This was something he wouldn't compromise on. Maligore's pit had altered their human DNA. It had given them both incredible powers that both had been able to use the way Zordon had taught them, but those powers were imbedded in their cells. They had no way of knowing or controlling how the genes they passed on to their offspring would be used. They could unwittingly produce another Maligore or, worse, another Dark Specter.

"It was decided for me Jase." She snarled, surprising him with the bitterness in her eyes. "You know as well as I do that I have to cooperate or they'll take things into their own hands. Better to have the child on my own and have a huge influence in its upbringing rather than let some creep like Netau raise it." She spat venomously. "You know I'm right."

"If you have to have a kid, why don't you just keep that one?" Carri said, rubbing her eyes and trying desperately to stay awake. Kim getting married was hard enough to digest, Kim with kids was seriously going to take a while fathom.

"For one thing," Kim said patiently, trying to shake off her anger, "He's Kat's…well, her alternate's anyway, that would just be weird; considering. For another, it would be pretty hard to explain how I just happened to show up with a newborn when I haven't been pregnant."

"Why can't you just go back in time nine or ten months and give yourself warning."

"I can't do that." Kim snapped.

"Why not?"

"Because it would…the continuum, it would be directly altering my own history…you can't do that."

"Bringing those things back across dimensions isn't altering things?" Jason asked, the heavy fatigue showing through in his voice.

"So far it seems to help." Kim said lamely, but it was obvious she really didn't know how to answer. If her research into the genealogy of Tom's kids was right, they were the ancestors of more than one modern Ranger. She was pretty sure Thomas had come to the same conclusion and that was why he'd allowed her to continue. At this point, she was terrified to continue and terrified to stop.

"Alright fine." Jason said resignedly, "I'm done arguing with you Kim. You just go and do what you want; you're gonna do it anyway. I'm outta here." He walked over to Kim and kissed the top of her head loudly. "Christ," He swore, moving the blanket aside to stare at the baby's head, "He looks just like Tommy."

"Which is why he's going to Tom in Angel Grove's past." She said blandly.

Jason regarded her blandly for a few seconds. "I worry about you sweetheart." He said seriously. He gave her a look that told her, despite what he'd just said, that they'd definitely continue their conversation about her hasty marriage to Tommy later, then turned and left room.

"That went well." Carri said sarcastically and Kim snorted, still walking with the baby.

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Tommy was a little frustrated. According to her communicator, Kim was out in the middle of the old Power Chamber ruins… a good seventy five feet down. Then, as quickly as her signal appeared, it disappeared, but she was still there; just not. It didn't make sense. It was like there was some kind of time-space distortion muting the signal.

Frowning, he racked his brain trying to think what could have been out there that would draw her attention at one in the morning. As he stared at the readouts, a light flashed and the system picked up Jason's muted communicator signal. In another flash, Jason was gone and the signal showed him bright and clear in his condo. Something was definitely up for them to be out there together and it had to be on the sly because he hadn't been invited to the party.

He wasn't jealous. The two regarded themselves firmly as siblings; especially after their experience on Muirantias. They did, however, volunteer their talents to more forces than just the Rangers and he simply assumed they were out playing around interdimensionally. But what they were after in the old ruins baffled him. He racked his brain to think what could still be down there that they would be interested in; besides a bunch of caved in storage rooms. Then an idea hit him. Grinning, he transported himself to the site.

Turning around three hundred and sixty degrees, he got his bearings and searched through the rubble until he found a remnant of Zordon's old Power Tube. After a few more seconds of searching, he found an old door, half covered by debris. To even the most scrutinizing observer, out looking for what he was looking for, the door looked like nothing but a piece of twisted scrap metal, but Tommy knew better. Using the techniques Zordon had shown him over a decade ago, he activated the door of light and was quickly inside. Behind him, the door shut quickly, carefully locking against intruders. No alarms went off, which meant Kim hadn't recalibrated the systems, but he still moved cautiously and silently. The passageway was dark, but there was light coming through the grate from the chamber below. It was then that he heard the voices: Kim, talking to her friend Carri, who also worked with her occasionally on side.

"So what are you going to do?" Carri asked. Her voice sounded tired. Tommy couldn't see much of either of them, Kim was holding something, walking back and forth below the grate.

"Not much I can do is there?" She said a little testily.

"You gonna tell Tommy?" Carri asked and then shifted, giving Tommy a better view of them.

"I haven't decided." She said softly. This caught his interest and angered him a bit. He'd gone out of his way to include her in almost everything he was doing as head of the Rangers on Earth; now she was going to exclude him again in her work?

"I've been ordered not to…and besides I'm not sure how he'd react." Kim answered and his attention was again drawn to her pacing. "I mean, what would you do?"

"Me?" Carri asked, a little taken back. "Not likely their gonna order me to breed sweetheart." She said drolly. "Netau even said to my face that he's glad I don't exist in every dimension." The two girls giggled a little and Tommy sat back on his haunches; stunned.

"Come on, Kim…this is Tommy we're talking about. He's already told you he wants kids…and he's gonna find out, he always finds out…he's supposedly the greatest Ranger ever, remember? Better to tell him hon, even if it gets you in trouble. He needs to know what he's getting into."

"Yes, but how's he going to react when I tell him I've been _ordered_ to do it…immediately. My god Carri, the very wording of it…_You are hereby commanded to breed and produce living offspring within the course of one established and delineated standard time period_….what am I, a god damn cow?" She asked, temper rising again, and Carri chuckled.

Tommy suppressed a grin, so that's what had been bothering her. The previous night, before they'd finally gone to sleep, she'd started to tell him about something, then had dismissed it as nothing important and told him to go to sleep.

He knelt forward a little and watched the two as he considered what she'd just said. Truth was, it didn't bother him much at all. All his life he'd wondered where he'd come from and felt the distinct lack of any blood relatives. He was definitely human, but he was also different and could do things normal people on his planet couldn't; except for the Rangers. He wanted to be around a family that understood those differences; that could tell him where they came from. His adopted family had been wonderful and he had been thrilled to find his twin brother had some of the same abilities he had, but try as he might, he and David just weren't as close as he would have liked.

His brother competed with him, however brotherly, and never seemed satisfied unless he was the twin doing better. He didn't exactly gloat that he had abilities Tommy didn't; he just seemed overly pleased. It was the same with his brother's son Aaron. David had produced the first son of the next generation while Tommy remained an unattached bachelor. Tommy wasn't jealous exactly, but holding Aaron as a baby and watching him grow into a strong little boy made him realize just how badly he wanted his own kids…his own blood family. Now that Kim was back in his life, he'd been wondering how to win her over to the idea, but it appeared he didn't even have to try.

He actually thought it was kind of funny, but he knew better than to let her know that. He jumped as he heard someone begin keying the sequences to enter. Using the residual effects of his Dino gem, which had bonded to his DNA, he blended invisibly with the passageway. He was half expecting Jason to return, but was stunned to see his double pass through the light barrier and land safely along the passageway as he had.

The man paused a moment to smooth down his bound long hair, straighten his vest, and dust off his long white sleeves. With a shock of recognition, Tommy realized he was staring at his clone.

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Tommy waited only a few seconds after the clone ended his visit and had passed by him again on the way out before making his way down to the door which would allow him access to the chamber below. Kim froze as he entered, a frown deepening in her brow.

"I haven't been gone ten minutes of real time." She finally said in a disgusted tone. "It's been twelve at the most since I slipped out. I timed everything. There was no way you could've woken up naturally and figured out where I was. Did you follow me?" She asked, seating herself in one of two chairs.

"Had a nightmare." He said plainly, trying to organize his thoughts. "You want to tell me what's going on or do you want me to start speculating?"

"Depends…" she answered. "How long have you been eavesdropping?"

"I came in when Jason left." He said and she swore, her shoulders slumping a little.

"And you didn't think it would have been appropriate to let yourself be seen?" She asked waspishly; but he only shrugged unrepentantly.

"Depends on why you didn't tell me you were coming out here or why you didn't tell me you'd re-vamped this place."

"I didn't know you knew about it."

"The white Ranger was created in this room." He said simply. "I didn't know Zordon had told anyone else it existed."

"I searched it out as a way to have a quiet place where Netau and his cronies couldn't watch my every move." She explained. "So what do you want to know?" she asked absently, indicating he take the only other chair in the room.

"For starters, what you're doing out here at one in the morning instead of asleep with me in our bed."

"Thomas called me for a mission." She answered. "Sometimes it's necessary to travel to a blue line world and remove certain objects that shouldn't fall into the wrong hands."

"And for that you needed Jason and Carri?" He asked and she nodded in response.

"I needed Jason's power combined with mine to remove a remnant of Zordon's old warp core. We were also in a situation where we were dealing with an alternate Katherine as the resident Tommy's wife…sometimes when that happens I'm not the best person to lead things; Carri's better at dealing with her."

"And the baby?" He asked, giving her an odd look. She raised her head and looked directly at him; neither surprised nor embarrassed.

"Is best forgotten about." She said firmly. "I keep no written records; it's too dangerous. Transplantation from one dimension to another is older than the DG itself. I do what I have to do to keep the timelines stable."

"Giving it away to the clone, my genetic twin, had nothing to do with the fact that it was Kat's?"

"Partly." She admitted.

"Was it mine too?" He asked bitterly. "I have a serious problem with you giving my kids away Kimberly."

"It was an alternate Tommy's." She said firmly, meeting his eyes. "If you're going to work cross dimensionally with me, you need to understand that there's a difference. They all develop differently, no one is identical. Events like traumas and joys, the external influence of others, the lack of influence of others, they all change the personality; the development of the internal character. Better to think of them as close relatives rather than one and the same."

"That sounds like something Thomas would say. " He muttered. He didn't like his alternate; didn't like the way he callously interfered with the lives of others then simply walked away and let people die all in the name of stabilizing a timeline.

"That's what Zordon told me." She said firmly. "Anymore questions? I'm tired and I want to go home. This can't be spoken of anywhere but here."

"How long have you been working with the clone?"

"Time is relative." She answered tiredly and at the hard look in his eyes she added quickly, "I'm not trying to be evasive. Time isn't linear. According to my calendar I was re-introduced to him four years ago, but that doesn't include the time I've spent in the past with him and his wife. It's not just him sweetie, I also work with his descendents."

"And you're conversation with Carri before Tom walked in?" He asked, tilting his head slightly. "Have you decided you can confide that in me?" He didn't mean it to be snide, but even to his own ears it sounded that way. He was a bit angry about that. Not at the order itself, but the fact that she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him; it all went back to learning to trust each other again.

"It's not a matter of confiding it, I haven't come to terms with it myself yet." She said slowly. "I've got issues with the way the DG operates, you already know that. I don't like being told ahead of time to do something life changing immediately or they're going to interfere and make me do it anyway."

"I can understand that." He said, "What I don't understand is why you'd hesitate to confide in me."

"It's not that." She said, sighing deeply and meeting his eyes with a pleading look. "There's a lot you're not supposed to know about Tommy. This is a minor issue in the scheme of things, but it's majorly important to you and me because we're directly involved. I confided in Carri because she and Jason both have the same issues with being controlled by the Guardians that I do."

"So why the order?" He asked, unwilling for the moment to give up his anger. She hesitated, looking away and then meeting his eyes. "I wasn't supposed to live." She said softly.

"What?"

"I wasn't supposed to live. Netau, a very powerful guardian, had decided the instability of our timeline has to do with my surviving Maligore's Pit instead of dying there with Jason ten years ago. He's been manipulating things against me for years and finally arranged for my death. He felt it was the only way to turn our dimension from an unstable line, where it's been since the Zordon Wave, to a green or blue; which would stabilize going toward a world dedicated to good or evil respectively." She paused and gave him a look that begged him to understand. "It's nothing personal to me, supposedly, it's a matter of maintaining the balance of power. He had permission from the moderators to terminate me, and everything proceeded as planned, but then you interfered by changing timeline he'd choreographed. You actively sought out your old enemy for help and that changed the way things played out."

"And that means…what? What's the status of our dimension now?" he asked, not sure he understood what she was trying to tell him.

"We green lined. That's something no one expected." She said honestly. "We're now proceeding solidly toward a dimension dedicated toward the good."

"This Netau didn't see that you're survival instead of your demise would do that?"

"No. We weren't heading in that direction. Our dimension's different; which is how I can get away with transplanting the children. No other Kimberlys survived Muirantias…well, none that I know of anyway. Just the demon Kemora and I; we balance each other so to speak. I'm sure there are more we haven't encountered yet, but no one knows for sure…the higher powers that be won't talk to us about it. My survival seriously changed things on our world and that change reverberates across the dimension; altering it because Muirantias itself is altered."

"So you lived and we green lined and that translates into you having kids?"

"Sort of. I lived and we came together again. That's a huge repercussion…we weren't showing any signs of coming together again; we couldn't manage to forgive each other for over ten years. In order to change things, you had to choose to save me, to forgive not only me, but Rita; which nobody thought you would. Netau was extremely angry. It made him look bad and proved to the moderators that he was wrong about me; that I'm not a destabilizing anomaly. In the end it was decided to keep things as they are, with you and me together."

"But…" He prodded.

"But in the other green lined worlds where the Kimberly and Tommy remain together, they have their children at a far younger age than we are now. The debate now is what's going to happen a generation from now if we don't have children relatively the same age…will things destabilize again? Can it be afforded to allow me, with my altered genetics to have offspring like me? Should they interfere and transplant genetic material from an un-altered Kimberly? They couldn't come to a decision. In the end, they gave me a few months to see what happens naturally and if I don't get pregnant on my own, then obviously they need to interfere and get it done for me." She stopped took a deep breath, letting it out slowly; the frustration and defeat clear in her face.

"Well," he said, leaning forward in his seat and looking at her wryly, "Maybe that explains why I've been having the same nightmare every night."

"What do you mean?" She asked, frowning.

"The nightmare. It's always the same and I've had it every night since we went back to Muirantias to save you. I didn't seek out Rita's help and you died. Maybe what I'm supposed to get out of it is that the timeline changed."

"Maybe." She said, considering his words. She hoped so. She wanted nothing more than for it all to be over with and to live quietly with Tommy, but somehow, she just didn't think Netau was going to give up so easily.

Why the old guardian wanted her dead so badly, she didn't know. He was arrogant and proud and had no love for Zordon or any of Zordon's Rangers. By living, she had somehow shamed him; made him look bad. He had been wrong about her more than once and fewer and fewer of his peers were now listening to his adamant demands that she be terminated. Now that she had been ordered to reproduce, his rational for terminating her based on her altered genetic code had been discredited.

His obsession with her had brought him nothing but a loss of prestige and respect. He felt she had dishonored him, but she argued his vehement hatred of her had dishonored himself. He was supposedly an agent for the forces of good, yet he had made it his mission to destroy her based on nothing more than anger, resentment, and prejudice.

One thing was certain, having a Dimensional Guardian as powerful as Netau for an enemy wasn't a good thing. It wasn't a good thing at all.


	2. Chapter 2: The Return of Calamity Kim

HARTLAND

By: KSuzie

Chapter Two: The Return of Calamity Kim

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_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney, everything else belongs to me._

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2 AM: Two days after Thanksgiving 2007

Kim switched off the bathroom light and didn't bother walking around to her side of the double mattress. She took the two steps that bridged the tiny gap between the bathroom door and the edge of the bed in the miniature bedroom of their temporary house and crawled across the covers to collapse head first into her pillow with an exhausted moan.

"That bad?" Tommy asked, chuckling. He was propped up on his side of the small bed, the one with the only lamp, scanning through a portable computer clipboard in case anything new had happened in the galaxy while they were hidden away in the room of light. The room itself bent time, allowing the occupants to spend hours there, only to return a few minutes later, but it didn't hurt to check in case something major had happened.

Despite the heat of the previous day, the early morning hours just before dawn had cooled and he'd pulled on a faded black t-shirt and pair of old sweat pants from his Reefside days before crawling into bed. He knew he wasn't going to be able to go to sleep with dawn just a few hours away, but he figured he'd make the effort to lie beside her for a while.

"I over did it." She mumbled, still face down in the pillow. He didn't disagree with her, but didn't give her any sympathy either. He still didn't fully understand what it was she did for the Dimensional Guardians, but he knew he had a tendency to exhaust himself while working too.

Besides, it had been a busy few days. He had whisked her off only a brief seventeen hours before to elope at the courthouse, then the two had raced back to attend Billy's wedding and all the formalities associated with that. Only a day before that had been Thanksgiving; which had been a complete disaster. A few moments had been enjoyable, but the entire day had been marred by his Aunt's bad behavior at his family's dinner and Kim's massive blowout with her father. The day had been topped off with the news that her mother was pregnant again and Kim and her brother Michael had handled the news by silently draining their stepfather's stash of red wine.

"Billy looked the happiest I've seen him in a long time." He commented, but there was only a muffled, incoherent sound in response. "I think next year though, we should do what everyone else does and spend one holiday with my family and the other with yours." He said absently, eyes scrolling through different screens. "Having four or five Thanksgiving meals in one day just isn't doable."

Kim raised her head up with eyes that were already promising a massive hangover from lack of sleep and shot him a venomous look. "You think?" She asked sarcastically; she was tired and grouchy and not exactly in the mood to be amiable. That was exactly what she had suggested they do in the first place, but he hadn't wanted anything to do with rationing up family time. He'd insisted they squeeze in everybody, with disastrous results, and it was all she could do not to smack him for the comment now.

"You ok with your mom having another baby?" He asked, turning his head towards her. She hadn't said one word about it since they had left her mother's house Thanksgiving evening and he'd been too afraid to ask the previous day in case he ruined the mood.

"Oh sure…" She responded, head collapsing back into her pillow. But this time she turned and regarded him from beneath her tousled hair. "I'm thrilled to be almost thirty years older than my new baby brother or sister. Almost as thrilled as my mom appears to be at having another child."

He gave her an annoyed, but tolerant look. "You're mom isn't that old though; not like my mom. How old was she when she had you?"

"I was born about three weeks after her twentieth Birthday." She answered with a sigh.

"So she's forty-eight." He murmured absently, attention drawn to something on his clipboard's screen. "It's not unheard of."

"She's still my mother." Kim retorted back in a grumpy tone; she wanted to sleep, not discuss a topic that was going to get her mind going again. That was the problem with being married to someone who's mind was working a thousand miles an hour, twenty-four-seven. It's what made him a great Ranger, but it simply made her a tired spouse. "And it's still weird to think about." She added sleepily, yawning despite herself.

"When I was a kid, I had a friend in Arizona who was about six months younger than his uncle." He offered. "I always thought it was kinda cool that they took karate classes together."

Kim humphed loudly and turned her head away from him towards the window. "I'm scared of having kids." She murmured after a minute or two, which caught his attention.

"Scared of being pregnant or scared of raising them?" He asked cautiously. Kim had always managed to avoid discussing the idea of having children; other than telling him she'd been ordered to have them. He'd made it clear to her that he wanted them and was fine with accelerating the timetable; but she had only given him a frustrated look and refused to say more.

"God Tommy," She moaned, rolling back over on her back and staring at the ceiling. "I can barely manage to take care of myself. Half the time I feel like I'm flying by the seat of my pants and disaster is waiting for me at every turn. How the hell am I gonna be able to mother a child?"

"The same way everyone else does." He responded evenly. "One day at a time. And you're not alone sweetheart. I'm serious, I want this. My twin brother had his son four years ago and yes, it's been difficult for him as a single parent, but he's done a great job. Aaron's healthy and smart and a great kid"

Kim continued to stare at the ceiling, but something in the way her eyes shifted and mouth tightened caught his attention. "Our kids aren't likely to be normal." She muttered. "You realize that right? Between the pit on Muirantias and the morphanological energies we've been exposed to over the years…"

" Neither is David's son." He argued, interrupting her. "David developed special abilities under Sam's tutorage long before I ever became a Ranger. Aaron's got some of those same abilities. He's telekinetic and the older he gets he shows more and more other strange talents. David handles it as it comes and passes on Sam's teachings. I swear I'm not bragging," He couched, "But let's face it, I'm the far more reliable twin. If David can do it on his own, we can absolutely do it together."

She sighed heavily and scrunched her nose up, still facing the ceiling, as if she were evaluating that comment and how best to respond. "And when I'm called off at a moment's notice and you're called off at a moment's notice?" She asked, turning her head to look at him. "Face it, children are not conducive to Rangering. Ashley and Andros will tell you that first hand." She countered, turning her head back to the ceiling and rubbing her eyes and face. "And what if Jason's right? What if I produce another Maligore?"

"We take it one day at a time Beautiful." He answered and she turned her eyes again to see him regarding her seriously. She smiled thinly, dropping her eyes again uncertainly to the sheets of their bedding, and he reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She didn't answer back and they were silent for a few minutes, holding hands and lost in their own thoughts for a while.

"So you feel like mess'n around?" He asked mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows comically when her eyes snapped up to meet his. In answer, she shot him a nasty look, pulled her hand away sharply and rolled over with a loud, exasperated groan; burying her head under her pillow firmly. "I take it that's a no…" He surmised.

* * *

5:07 AM

Tommy's head snapped up from behind his desk the minute the blue light began to shimmer through from the bedroom door. The tiny house they had moved into until the other was renovated had only two bedrooms, one of which he'd made into an office, and the doors of each room faced each other.

He simultaneously frowned and swallowed a jolt of alarm. He had security measures in place to keep anything from transporting in or out of his home without his permission and he'd just left his wife sleeping soundly only a few minutes before to download his work from the clipboard to his main computer.

In an instant, he bolted across the small floor space, through the doorway of his office, across the narrow hall, and stopped at the frame of the bedroom door. Blue and white light bathed the room in a soft glow, bouncing off the walls like pool water illuminated at night. His wife was sitting bolt upright in bed and there was a man he'd never seen before standing where the outside wall should have been.

"Just let me change." She told the man.

"You can't risk it." The man urged in a panicked tone, "You may have only seconds before the Equaline wave reaches you. You have to go back far enough in time to stop it."

"Ulysses…" Kim chided in a scolding tone. "You have to tell me what's waiting for me, where to start. I can't just…"

"There's not time!" The man all but shouted. "I'll try and rendezvous with you and explain on the other end. Hurry!"

"What's going on?" Tommy asked, overcoming his shock enough to speak. Strange events happened all the time in a Ranger's life, but you never really got used to them when they unexpectedly stared you in the face. His heart was pounding in his chest. Kim had just gotten back and he knew she was physically exhausted, he wasn't about to let her go off again without him.

"Tommy stay back!" Kim cried, spinning around. "It's too dangerous in here!"

"There's no time!" The man named Ulysses shouted. He reached out and physically grabbed Kim by her pajamas, tossing her head first and squealing her protest into the glowing blue wall. In an instant she disappeared.

"No!" Tommy shouted as the glowing wall began to collapse in on itself. Without another thought, he leapt forward, spring boarded off the mattress, and dived head first into the shrinking blue light.

Immediately, he realized his mistake. The tunnel of blue and white light began to destabilize as soon as he entered. He was bounced around as if caught in the vortex of a tornado. Each time he was slammed against the spinning walls of the tunnel, white energy crackled and shot through his body like a cattle prod and at every haphazard bounce he cried out in pain.

"Hold on!" He heard his wife's voice over the wind noise of the tube. "The portal wasn't created to support us both; it's destabilizing. Tommy, this is important. You've got to try and turn around feet first!" She urged.

Destabilizing, he thought as he was buffeted around, way to go Oliver, he chastised himself. Sometimes he honestly wished he had the ability to think occasionally before he did something stupid. Turning around was easier said than done. First of all, in just a few short seconds, he'd lost all sense of what was up and what was down. Second of all, it seemed as though the tunnel were narrowing and it hurt like hell every time he slammed into the side of it.

"Tommy, you've got to turn or you're going to land on your head when we reach the end!" Kim yelled. He still couldn't see her, but she sounded a bit closer. "I'm in front of you. Curl into a ball and spin one-eighty, with your feet towards my voice." She directed.

Tommy did as he was told and promptly slammed into the wall of the vortex again, crying out in pain as the energy of the tube shot through him. Uttering several choice swear words in several different languages, he forced his body to turn with his feet in the direction she'd indicated. Immediately after he did so, he felt her hand reach out and clasp his foot, then she seemed to climb up his body until they were face to face.

"You've done some stupid things in your life Thomas Oliver" She shouted above the storm noise of the vortex. "But this is the stupidest of them all! You could get us both killed in here!"

"It would help if I knew where here was!" He yelled back irritably, then cursed loudly again as they were both pummeled and tossed around again against the sides of the tunnel. "Is this normal?" He shouted, even though her head was tucked against his shoulder and they were clinging together for dear life.

"Don't let go!" She shouted back. "We're sliding through the crest of the Equaline wave!"

Tommy didn't know what and Equaline wave was, but he did know they were being shaken and tossed around as if a massive earthquake were going on outside the tube. He tightened his arms around his wife and pressed his head protectively against hers. "Where are we going?" He yelled as the buffeting seemed to go on forever.

Kim never answered. She never had time to. Without warning, a hole developed in the vortex and both were sucked out. Immediately, the dim, glowing light of the tunnel was replaced by a blinding white light, but before his eyes could adjust, he lost his hold on her and slammed into something hard and solid.

He made an umphing sound as he landed on his back, the wind knocking out of him, then cautiously felt around; to either side was a warm dusty surface. Slowly, he rolled over, groaning heavily as each muscle in his body protested the movement. An instant later he realized that Kim wasn't near him and shot upward to his knees, ignoring the pain shooting through his neck and shoulder, and blinking repeatedly to adjust his eyes to the bright light. Slowly, the colors around him came back into focus and he could see her lying not too far away.

He pulled himself up and jogged over to her, at first thinking she had just had the wind knocked out of her too, but on closer inspection, his heart sank as he spied the blood pooling around the side of her head under her hair. Forcing himself not to panic, he first checked her neck, shoulders, spine, and hips for broken bones. Her shoulder appeared dislocated, but nothing critical seemed broken or out of place. Turning her head gently, he saw the long gash, just above her ear, that was oozing blood and, after searching the ground around her, he also spied the rock which had caused it.

He cursed loudly, not knowing if she'd landed, as he had, on his back and then hit her head, or landed head first against the rock; either way, she could have suffered bad internal injuries. There was no way of knowing and, although she seemed to be breathing steadily enough, her pupils were dilated and he couldn't rouse her. He lowered her head gently back to the ground and cursed again, taking in his surroundings.

They were smack in the middle of a desert with nothing around them save rocks and a few scrub plants and cacti. To further complicate things, it was cold. That seemed to suggest that it was only early morning and it would get a lot warmer, but he just didn't know. He was barefoot, in a pair of his old sweats and a tee, and she was also barefoot and wearing a pair of light cotton pajamas with thin spaghetti straps; not exactly survival gear for the desert.

Unfortunately, other than the basic premises, he knew relatively nothing about interdimensional travel. They could be anywhere, any when, in the universe and he would have no idea how to tell the difference or get them back home again.

Kim was hurt and losing blood rapidly. He needed to get her help quickly, but there was nothing around them for as far as he could see except dirt, rocks, and scrub. Standing up and turning in a three-sixty motion didn't yield much more information, until he spotted a dark patch of mottled scrub and short trees not too far off to his right, directly below a rust colored rock formation. Rocks with foliage around them could possibly mean water and, at the very least, the short scrub trees might provide shade from the desert sun.

Picking Kimberly up didn't prove easy. Her wound gushed blood the moment her head was lifted and he immediately set her back down again. Using a tare in his sweatpants, he ripped off one leg at the knee and gently pulled and tugged the tube of fabric over her head, using the stretchy cuff as a tight bandage, then doubling the excess fabric up and over itself to be a little more absorbent. Sitting back a little and examining his work, he was actually rather proud of his ingenuity. The fabric itself was worn and old and the elastic gave way enough so that he didn't think it was too tight, but, as a bandage, it stayed in place all by itself and applied a good amount of pressure against the gash.

Picking her up again once more, he shifted her weight a little until her head lolled against his chest and he had a good grip on her. He had no idea how far away the rock formation actually was, but it was better than staying put and baking out in the desert sun. Kissing her bandaged forehead softly, he set off to find them some shelter and figure out how to get them out of the impossible predicament they were in.

* * *

Curtis frowned as he examined the footprints and blood on the desert floor, then raised his eyes to the clear blue sky; squinting from the glare of the bright winter sun. He was in the exact position of the anomaly, but he hadn't found what he'd been expecting to. His tracking skills were renowned in several counties and what the imprints in the rocky desert floor told him didn't sit well.

Before him in the dirt was evidence of at least one man, barefoot, nearly the size and weight of himself. Off to the side was the imprint of another, smaller person, who was obviously hurt and bleeding profusely. The man had picked the second one up and carried it off in a southeasterly direction; possibly looking for help or shelter. If the man had been from the area, he mused to himself, he would have known to go in the opposite direction, where he would have crossed several cattle ranches and eventually made his way to the only settlement close by. As it was, he was headed directly into Indian territory. Fortunately, the inhabitants of the reservation were on pretty good terms with the local citizens; but that didn't mean they'd take kindly to strangers.

He doubted he was dealing with anyone local though. The prints had simply appeared and then wandered off in one direction. There was no evidence at all that they'd originated from anywhere except that one spot; where the anomaly had flashed.

Standing up, he shook the remnants of the bloody sand from his fingers and wiped them on the leather chaps strapped to his legs. Walking with the gate of someone who'd spent years on horseback, he strode purposely back toward his mount and lifted himself easily into the high saddle.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a mystery on our hands Tiger." He muttered as he unwound the reins from the horn of the saddle. Beneath him the white horse snorted and pawed the dirt as if understanding. "Let's go boy," He urged, kicking the sides of the horse and steering it in the direction of the man's footprints. "Gee-up!"

* * *

Tommy knelt down and soaked the now bloody rag in the tiny trickle of water that bubbled in the shade of the rocks above. He wasn't entirely sure of the quality of the water, but it was better than nothing. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembered that running water was clean water. He wasn't sure, by the amount of mud he'd stirred up, if the tiny shallow brook could actually be considered running water, but it wasn't stagnant.

He'd ripped off and used the second leg of his sweat pants to change the bandage on Kim's head; soaking the first one in the water and trying to clean it as best he could, then laying it out to dry while the mud settled enough, and he got thirsty enough, to try and drink from it.

They couldn't stay where they were, he thought, sitting back against the rocks, but the short walk through the desert had proven to him that he wasn't going to be able to carry her very far. His bare feet were pricked and bleeding and full of cacti needles and it had been almost impossible to carry Kim up the low rise of rocks to get to the small oasis.

"I need help." He muttered to no one in particular, closing his eyes and silently willing the Great Power to assist him. In frustration, he put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. His brother had learned a way to telekinetically heal cuts, but he just wasn't brave enough yet to try it out on his wife. There was more to it than simply sealing a gash; you had to will the dirt and debris and foreign objects out of the lesion. Besides, Kim's injury was more than a wound. It was deep and nasty looking and he was terrified the thin, broken white stuff poking out from under the skin was the bone of her skull. Despite moaning a little, she hadn't woken up and her breathing was becoming more and more shallow as the day went on. Crossing the gap between his rocky seat and where he'd laid her in the narrow strip of shade, he sat back down and took her hand; kissing it and holding it up to cheek.

His mind whirled a thousand miles an hour trying to figure out what to do next. He realized he was going to have to leave her and find help, but he didn't like that option; preferring to focus on finding a way to carry her with him. He needed shoes and looked around the tiny oasis, mentally checking off anything he could jury rig. There was a swatch of tall grass next to the brook that he could possibly mat up and tie to the bottom of his feet with the fabric from his shirt. There were enough small trees to make a litter, but nothing really to tie it together; unless he somehow utilized her pajamas. The sun was high in the sky now and it was much warmer, so he thought it might be better to travel at night when the exertion could keep him warm, but then he wouldn't be able to see where he was going.

As he sat next to her deciding what to do, he began to realize that the soft rhythmic sound he heard wasn't coming from the brook. Standing up and peering over the row of scrub lining the water, he realized that the clopping sound was a horse and he could just make out the image of it and its rider climbing the low rolling hillside toward them. Silently, he closed his eyes and raised his head in thanks; adding a second prayer that the rider was friendly. If he wasn't, Tommy had no qualms at all of relieving the man of his horse and taking his wife to safety.

Taking a deep breath, he readied himself, climbed a rather large rock for height, and began calling and waving toward the rider. In response, the horse seemed to pick up speed and move more quickly towards him, slowing down to a walk and pulling back just short; measuring Tommy just as cautiously as Tommy measured the stranger.

"I need help!" Tommy called from above and the rider moved in a bit closer. "My wife," Tommy called, "She's hurt. I need to get her to safety."

"What's your name stranger?" The man called, pulling up just under the rock and scanning the surrounding area as if expecting trouble.

"Tommy Oliver." Tommy answered, moving down the rocks a bit to get a little closer; himself still wary and cautiously keeping to the higher ground just in case.

But it wasn't the long rifle or the guns strapped against his thighs that held Tommy's interest; it was the man's face. He wasn't an exact double of Tommy, but he looked more like himself than he thought his twin brother David did. He had long hair that tumbled down the back of his worn red shirt, tucked back and held neatly from his face by an equally worn leather Stetson hat. Although he was darker in completion than Tommy, as if he spent a great deal of time outdoors in the sun, his hair and his eyes were lighter. Still, the resemblance was startling and left him wondering if he was looking at one of his alternates from another dimension. The stranger stared back at him, as if equally puzzled to see a duplicate of himself.

"And you are?" Tommy asked, regaining his wits a bit.

"Curtis Trueheart." The man answered easily with a slight western drawl, seeming to overcome his surprise as well. "Or Curtis Hart, take your pick. I'm known by both"

Tommy blinked twice at the man, stunned more by the name than the resemblance to himself. He had expected the man to say he had the same name, in which case he would know that he was an alternate and they were in an alternate dimension, but the man's last name was Trueheart, which was his brother's adopted family name, and Curtis Hart was the name of the founder of Hartland, Kimberly's family's homestead. Either they were in a warped alternate dimension, with an equally warped history, or they had fallen back through time. The man's words to Kimberly just before he'd tossed her into the portal came ringing back into his mind: _You have only seconds before the Equaline wave reaches you. You have to go back far enough in time to stop it. _If they had gone back in time, and the man in front of him, his living double in the past, was really Kim's great, great grandfather…she had some explaining to do.

"You said your wife needs help?" Curtis asked pointedly, taking in the other man's odd, torn clothing; not missing for an instant that he was dressed in black.

"She uh…fell and hit her head." Tommy explained, pointing to the rocks behind him. "I laid her down by the brook."

Curtis nodded and dismounted, rifle in hand, and keeping the man who looked so much like himself carefully in his sight in case it was a ruse. Always cautious, he never carried much of value with him when he traveled and always took care not to dress well enough to entice trouble, but he figured this was a legitimate rescue. He already knew the man's companion was bleeding and had to be carried. He was actually quite impressed the man in front of him made it as far as he did, considering his bare feet. He knew this spot well, it was one of the few places to refresh a canteen in-between Angel Grove and the Stone Canyon Indian Reservation.

"Lead on." Cutis said casually, giving Tommy a measuring look and pointing with the end of his rifle towards the rocks above.

Tommy understood the gesture with the rifle all too well. In order to lead the man to Kim, he'd have to turn his back and climb back up the rocks. If there was trouble, the man wouldn't hesitate to shoot him in the back. He returned an equally deadly measuring look, conveying he wouldn't be taken down easily if it was the stranger who intended trouble, then carefully turned and climbed back up the hill, all the while using every sense he had in him to gauge the stranger's progress and counter attack if the man made a wrong move.

All was well though and they reach the crest of the hill with no problems on either end. Kim's body was lying in the shade where he'd left her and he moved to the side of her that would give him the best advantage to protect them both if the stranger made trouble.

Curtis didn't miss the man's actions. He already knew from his tracks across the desert that he moved swiftly and carefully; light on his feet despite the weight of his body and the body he carried. In person he noted the corded muscles of his exposed legs and arms. He moved fluidly and catlike, the way old Abraham moved when he exercised or practiced the strange drills from his homeland. But any reservations Curtis may have had about just who the man next to him was, melted when he recognized the figure laying underneath the rocky overhand.

"Lord Almighty." He swore, tossing his rifle into his left hand an reaching out to lift the strands of hair that had blown across her pale face. "If it ain't Miss Kimmee herself." He murmured softly. Turning to Tommy's surprised face, he asked. "What did you say your name was?"

"Tommy Oliver." He responded. "You know Kim?" He asked incredulously. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Kim hadn't told him half of what she really did for the guardians and most of what he did know he'd obtained from surreptitiously reading her diaries.

"Tommy…" He said softly to himself as if remembering something amusing.

"You know my wife?" Tommy asked again. If the man in front of him knew Kim, then there was a much better chance they weren't lost at all but had reached the destination they were sent to.

"Not many in these parts don't know Calamity Kim" Curtis responded with a grin.

Tommy reared back as if stunned. As a teenager, Kim had told him of her adventures after accidentally falling through a time portal into Angel Grove's past; of how she'd been named Calamity Kim. Years later, when attending a museum function, he'd actually stumbled across an exhibit that contained a reference to her along with a faded old photograph. She had also told him, he now remembered, that there had been a boy in Angel Grove's western past that had looked enough like him to be his double; he'd been called the white stranger.

He watched now as the man lowered his rifle to the rocky surface and began a careful examination of Kimberly; much the same way he had when they'd first fallen through the vortex. Satisfied that nothing was broken or out of place, he returned to look again at her dislocated shoulder and then her head wound. As he lifted the makeshift bandage, he took a moment to analyze the stretchy nature of the fabric, then tossed it aside and looked more closely at the injury itself.

"How long has she been out cold like this?" He asked, not looking around.

"Since we arrived." Tommy answered, watching him closely. He couldn't remember if Kim had told the man anything about the future or not, then remembered something Kim had told him about her family's founder; he'd been a Ranger…a very powerful one.

Curtis looked up at the sky and the position of the sun as if calculating something, then looked back at Tommy. "And she hasn't woken up since?"

Tommy shook his head. Kim had moaned and murmured occasionally, but for the most part had never regained consciousness.

"There's a piece of rock embedded in her skull." Curtis noted, rolling back on his knees and regarding Tommy seriously. "Whatever she hit when the vortex spit her out, she hit it hard."

Tommy blinked at the man's casual mention of the vortex, taking it as a further confirmation of the man's status as a fellow Ranger, but simply nodded.

"We got two choices." He said seriously. "We've got one horse with us. Angel Grove's about an hour, hour and a half, ride due west at full gallop. I can take her to Doc Cranston and he can see what he can do…or I can transport her directly to the Command Center."

Tommy blinked at the last words; they were like music to his ears. The Command Center. That meant Zordon. If they were in Angel Grove's past, that meant Zordon was alive. Emotion coursed through every fiber in his body; physically shaking him to the core. Zordon was still alive in this time zone. The questions he could ask, the advice he could seek, there was so much that had been left undone... he blinked, the Command Center also meant modern technology to help Kimberly. But something about the way the other man had said it gave him reason to pause; then he realized he had spoken in Eltaran.

"There's no option then but the second." He answered in the same language.

If it had been a test, he apparently passed it. Without asking, Curtis nodded his head, picked Kimberly up as if she were no more than a feather light rag doll, then stood up and walked closer. "You best hang on." He advised, then reached for something on his belt buckle and within seconds Tommy felt the familiar pull of Zordon's old transport beam.

* * *

"Ai yi yi!" The familiar voice of Alpha called as they reemerged in a room that was hauntingly familiar, yet distinctly different from the one Tommy remembered in his youth. It looked very much the same as it had when he was a teen, although several key pieces of instrumentation were missing. He couldn't remember if that was his faulty memory or if it was because they simply hadn't been invented yet, but it didn't really matter.

"Zordon," Curtis said, looking up at his Power Tube, "You were right, it was a time vortex. Miss Kimmee's back and she brought her husband with her this time…but she's hurt."

"Ai yi yi!" Alpha fussed as he approached form the side of the chamber. "Calamity Kim's come back to us Zordon! And just when we need her most too."

"She's hurt Alpha." Curtis told the robot patiently, lifting her ever so slightly to indicate she needed treatment. "I think there's a piece of rock still embedded in the wound on her head."

"Oh my…" Alpha fretted. "Curtis, please place her on the examination table. Wait, did you say she brought her husband with her?" He asked, turning around and leaning his metallic body ever so slightly to get a better look at the newcomer. "That's odd, no alarms sounded when he entered."

"Zordon, Alpha," Curtis said as he placed Kim on what looked to Tommy to be an absolutely ancient computer automated medical bed, "This is Miss Kimmee's husband, Tommy Oliver ."

"Welcome Tommy." Zordon's voice boomed from above him. "I am Zordon, an interdimensional being caught in a time warp."

Tommy felt his body actually begin to tremble as he stared up at the great mentor and friend that he had lost so long ago. His emotions threatened to overwhelm him and for a moment he couldn't speak; his eyes misted and his throat clenched. Remembering himself, he nodded politely in greeting, reminding himself firmly that he had to remember this wasn't his Zordon. It was a Zordon of Earth's past who had never known him.

"Zordon." He managed finally, smiling wistfully and managing another nod of greeting.

"I am very pleased to meet the husband of such a trusted and valued friend as our Kimberly." The great master continued. "She has spoken only briefly of her future friends and teammates and I now assume that you are among those who will fight with her in Earth's future to defend the safety and security of the galaxy."

Tommy grinned in earnest by the description. "Yes, yes I am." He managed, his eyes twinkling. It was strange to be introduced as Kim's husband. It felt good, but it was also a bit odd. This was his home turf, he was back where it had all begun for him, yet he was the stranger and she the comrade who had returned home to them. He glanced over and watched as Alpha ran his scans, praying she was alright.

"While it is never good to learn too much of one's own future." Zordon replied, drawing his attention back to his old friend and mentor. "I am pleased to know that the Power will continue to flourish for many years yet to come."

"We have our struggles." Tommy answered cryptically, not sure how much to say. "But the Power has remained with us."

"That is good to hear." Zordon said in a tone that brought many, many memories bubbling to the surface of his mind. "However, while you are here, in what you would consider to be Earth's past, I must warn you, as I have warned Kimberly, not to speak openly of what is to become our future if it can possibly be avoided."

"I understand Zordon. I'm not unfamiliar with the rules you're imposing."

In response, Zordon smiled knowingly down at him and he felt his heart clench. He had missed his old teacher more that anyone knew. He had been the only one besides Alpha and Lerigot to know that Zordon was going home and the only one Zordon had confided in that he didn't feel he'd ever return. His younger self had been sad at the time, but very proud and confident, perhaps too confident, to be handed the reins. He hadn't known though that the old wizard would actually die. He had always thought the great master would live forever, would always be there if he ever needed help; that there was time to learn the wisdom from him that he had to offer.

Zordon's death had crushed him. For the first time in his life he felt completely alone and totally helpless. The overwhelming burden of the mantle of leadership had fallen on him like a lead weight. That was when he'd cultivated the persona which made people wary of him. He didn't believe, as his wife did, that people were actually afraid of him. True, those who knew who he was would quickly scatter out of his way or cross the hall rather than confront him, but he'd needed that kind of aura. He was Earth's representative of the Power Rangers and there were Intergalactic leaders who sniffed at dealing with a human, let alone a human as young as he was. He didn't think the great master before him would approve, but he hadn't been able to figure out another way to command that kind of respect.

"I believe your arrival in this time period to be fortuitous Tommy." Zordon said, breaking into his thoughts. "I have sensed a dangerous disturbance in the morphin grid."

"What kind of disturbance?" Tommy asked, frowning and shifting instantly back into leader mode. Zordon didn't miss the shift and neither did Curtis. Tommy was instantly alert, his shoulders back, the aura of confident leadership surrounding him. Curtis had never seen a man snap from concerned husband and passive bystander to complete warrior mode that fast. This was a man not to be underestimated; who was more than just a simple Ranger.

"I was hoping that you would be able to tell me." Zordon responded, surprising him. "It has become a precedent of sorts," he continued, smiling gently, a soft humor set in his eyes, "That with the arrival of Calamity Kim, also comes the arrival of an answer to the mysteries we are facing."

Tommy wasn't sure if Zordon was teasing him, but it kind of felt that way. He wondered briefly just how many times Kimberly had been back to this time period. He knew only of the one adventure in high school, but he realized she'd been far more active in Earth's past than he'd assumed. The Zordon in front of him appeared to know her well; as did the man who had rescued him.

"Ai yi yi," Alpha cried, drawing his attention. "You were quite correct Curtis." Alpha said approvingly. "There is a tiny fragment right there."

Setting a hand held device, Alpha lowered it and pointed it toward her head. A blue light activated and a small tractor beam gently pulled a long, razor thin shaving of rock from the wound; making Tommy blanch. It didn't look small at all to him; it looked huge and he was very grateful that he hadn't tried his brother's trick of telepathically closing the injury on his own. Several other small pellets of debris also fell into the metal collection tray Alpha held out and Tommy winced in concern, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on her bare foot.

"Will she be alright Alpha?" He asked and Curtis looked up to regard him curiously, noticing the hand absently caressing her foot and the concern on the other man's face and voice.

He liked what he saw, he realized. There weren't many men he'd approve of for Miss Kimmee. He had a good notion that this one was powerful. He moved and spoke as if he was used to being obeyed and he had no doubt about his ability to fight, yet he showed no qualms about openly showing his concern and affection for her while she was hurt. In his experience, that was a rare combination.

"She'll be just fine Tommy." Alpha reassured, taking the tray and placing it off to the side. Adjusting the device again, he began the process of sealing the wound. "We have the best technology in the galaxy at our disposal," he announced proudly. "She'll simply need to stay here for a few hours while the computer deals with the swelling and monitors her for any changes, but then we'll be able to send her right back out there again in no time."

Tommy smiled indulgently, thinking again the medical bed looked positively archaic to him. To a normal person of the twenty-first century, the table might still look advanced, but considering the devices Billy had just installed in their home base…there was simply no comparison. The smile melted as he heard her moan softly and anxiety coursed through him again. Watching her pale form on a medical bed was all too close to the memory of sitting beside her helplessly as she lay dying after Kemora's attack; as well as the nightmares of losing her all together.

"I'm gonna head back then." Curtis said, drawing Tommy's attention. The two men locked eyes and Curtis nodded, acknowledging that he would stand aside and allow the other man to keep the vigil over her; something he would not have done for anyone else. "I'll be back in a few hours with the wagon and change of clothes for both of you. Unless," He added with a wicked grin, "You feel like arriving at the ranch in your black long johns."

* * *

It was nearly six anxious hours later that Kimberly began to stir in earnest and, although Alpha had assured him that she was completely out of danger and simply sleeping, Tommy breathed a massive sigh of relief when her finally eyes fluttered open. She smiled at the huge grin on his face, wondering what he was up to, then paused mid stretch as she realized they weren't in their bedroom.

"Where am I?" She asked, forehead knotting in concern. The pad beneath her was even harder than the tiny mattress they shared at home, if that were possible, and the lights were all wrong. She blinked hard, trying to more quickly adjust her sleepy eyes.

"Hey, stay still." He urged softly. "You landed on your head. You're on a medical bed in the old Command Center."

"I'm where?" She asked, trying to understand what he was talking about.

"Do you remember?" He asked, concerned and wondering if he should call Alpha back. He and Zordon had both gone to another part of the Command Center, leaving the main area with dimmed lights while she slept.

"No." She said, in a worried voice.

"What's the last thing you remember?" He asked anxiously, hand reaching out to take hers.

"Talking about having kids." She responded. "Then I rolled over and went to sleep."

Tommy breathed another huge sigh of relief and kissed the hand; closing his eyes and pressing his cheek against it in a gesture that made her realize how worried he'd been. He'd been nervous for a second that she might have lost her memory. The human brain was incredibly fragile; even the technology in their home time zone couldn't always repair it properly. Carefully, he went back over the details of everything that had happened since the blue light had filtered its way into his office and drawn his attention.

"An Equaline wave…" She murmured, brow knotted and lips thin. "That's not good at all.

"What's an Equaline wave?" He asked in return.

"A side effect of a massive adjustment in the space time continuum." She responded, and he could tell by her face that it wasn't a good kind of adjustment. "It throws the balance of power in the universe completely to hell. Both sides avoid them at all cost. They're unpredictable, impossible to control, and not easy at all to fix. Time never goes back the right way afterward; it always shifts and turns out differently."

"So what do you think Ulysses wanted you to do?"

"Stop it before it starts." She responded gravely. "If I can. That's really all you can do with an Equaline wave. Trouble is, I don't know what I'm looking for. It could be anything, anything at all. A minor event a thousand miles from here that seems unimportant or something major right in front of me. Are you sure he didn't say anything else? Ulysses traveling to the future…that's just…odd. He wouldn't do that. He follows the continuum rules very strictly."

"That's all I heard." He replied and silently agreed with the soft curse she uttered in response. "So…you've traveled to this time period before?" He asked.

"You know I have." She answered, rolling over and sitting up, then yawned and rubbed her eyes sleepily. "Wow, my head hurts." She muttered as the fingers moved from her eyes to her temples. He noticed that her fingers gently probed the now healed and cleaned area of her wound; indicating to him that it was still probably tender.

"I meant after you fell through by accident the first time."

"A few times." She answered vaguely, not meeting his eyes.

Inwardly he groaned; Kim not meeting his eyes was never a good thing. "And Curtis Hart…he's the founder of your grandfather's Ranch right?" He asked pointedly and she winced, anticipating where he was going and marveling once again that he could put things together so fast. "The one who built the house we're renovating?" He inquired and she nodded, trying to silently formulate in her aching head the answer to the question she knew was coming. "Yet the one who looks more like my twin brother than my actual twin brother."

"He's Tom's descendant." She confirmed. "From his third son that migrated up the coast into the Yukon Territory, then back down into San Francisco."

Tommy nodded in understanding. He'd been so excited as a teenager to learn that he might have had ancestor in Angel Grove's past; a missing link to where he'd come from. He'd been bitterly disappointed to learn that Kimberly's "white stranger" had been a descendant of his clone, but had still taken the time to track down Tom's decedents; just in case he might be able to draw a link to them.

"Yet all those kids are supposedly…" He began, but she shushed him.

"Don't talk about it." She scolded. "Even here. It's not safe and you put the Zordon of our past in danger if he overhears you…which he does. He knows everything that goes on in here."

"So basically," He said, changing directions and formulating his question another way. "Your ancestor is a descendent of…" and he left it hanging. They both knew what he was talking about. Her grandfather was the descendent of a child of his alternate in another dimension; a child of either an alternate Kat or an alternate Kimberly.

"No." She answered, shaking her head firmly and really wishing he hadn't as her headache increased its intensity. "There was blip."

"A blip…" He repeated sternly, not willing to let her off that easily.

"Curtis was married twice." She explained, "Or will be married twice depending on what year we landed in."

"1887." He provided and she nodded, mentally reviewing her knowledge of the time span.

"Then he should be getting married again fairly quickly." She murmured. "Anyway his first wife was a young Indian girl who's name meant Twilight. I honestly don't know much about her. There are no historical records and Curtis doesn't speak about her much other than to say they were really young; he was only about fifteen himself." She paused and Tommy had the distinct impression she was leaving something major out of the equation. "The only thing I know for sure is that, after she died, I know the that there was a sister of hers raising two boys with the last name of Trueheart alongside her own up on the reservation."

She paused again, thinking, and when she didn't continue, he prodded, "And the blip that concerns you is…"

"Oh…" She answered, blinking in surprise as if she'd lost her train of thought. "Uhm, the second wife also came with two children. The funny thing is, there are no records that they weren't his kids and no one in the Hart family ever spoke about an adoption or her having another husband. There was a fire that wiped out most of Angel Grove in 1890, and took almost all the written records with it, and the two children themselves grew up apparently never knowing they'd been adopted."

"How did you find out then?" He asked.

"Zordon." She answered. "When I came back the first time and looked into the genealogy of everybody to see what happened to them, I realized Curtis was Junior's father. Junior Hart was my grandfather's father. I guess I freaked out…well, that's putting it mildly." She laughed, giving him a look that indicated she'd completely overreacted. "Zordon told me the truth, that Curtis's wife had been married before and had two children by that husband. I guess I shouldn't have been so disturbed by it. I mean, there's multiple, multiple generations between us and Tom's children…more than two hundred years."

"It would still have been bizarre." He added, and she grinned at him in understanding. To be both an ancestor and a descendant at once wouldn't be a good anomaly at all.

"You're awake!" Curtis's voice rang through the chamber and she turned with a huge, enthusiastic grin.

"Curtis!" She squealed, sliding down off the bed and throwing her arms around the man.

"I'm glad to see you up and about Miss Kimmee." He murmured as he returned the embrace, then let her go with a little self conscious push backward; she was another man's wife now and he wasn't exactly sure how that husband would react to him hugging her. Glancing up cautiously, he was relieved to see the man seemed indulgently amused. Miss Kimmee was like family to him and it would be hard to keep from showing her affection if her husband forbade it; besides, it had been a tough afternoon and he'd needed the hug.

"What's wrong?" Kim asked, drawing both his attention and Tommy's.

"It's nothing." He murmured, surprised she'd picked up on his mood, yet not really surprised at all considering just who she was. "I'm thrilled to bits your back and you're alright. I just had some sad news when got back to the ranch. That's what delayed me, I'm sorry."

Kim shook her head. "I just woke up a few minutes ago." She answered dismissively. "What's happened?"

"Nothing much in the grand scheme of the universe." He replied in his typical way of saying it wasn't anything that required the attention of the Rangers yet was important to him personally. "You remember my neighbor's wife Caroline Carson?" He asked.

Kim nodded and suppressed a grin. Of course she knew who Caroline was. Curtis had had a massive crush on his married neighbor for years; although he'd never admit to it. If it was 1887, then that meant her husband would soon meet a tragic end and Curtis would waste no time in attaching himself to the pretty widow. Caroline, unfortunately, didn't care much for Calamity Kim at all, but Kim found it more amusing than irritating. The woman was her blood relative; her true ancestor. She fully expected him to say that the husband keeping them apart was dead, but those were not the words that followed.

"Her little son passed this morning." He explained. "Shocked all of us to the core. Miss Alicia's all distraught, she can't hardly talk for bawling over the boy. He wasn't even two years old yet."

Kim froze, a deep hollowness forming in the pit of her stomach and the color draining from her face so quickly that both men stepped forward at once to catch her if she feinted. Tommy was quicker and Curtis stepped back before he collided with him; allowing the man to be the first to reach his wife.

"What is it?" Tommy asked, frowning as deeply as Curtis; both of them worried it might have something to do with her head injury.

"Her son?" Kim asked breathily, and Curtis frowned at her tone. It was about as close to panicked as he'd ever heard from her.

"The only one she's got." He answered. "Little Frank Junior."

"Oh my God." Kim breathed, this time literally collapsing with her back against Tommy. Both men shot each other concerned looks as Tommy's arms came around her.

"What is it Beautiful?" He asked softly, arms tightening around her as he felt her trembling.

"Junior…" She answered.


	3. Chapter 3: Time Out

HARTLAND

By: KSuzie

* * *

Chapter Three: Time Out

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney, The Demon King is Daniel's, everything else belongs to me._

* * *

"Please tell me this isn't as serious as it looks." Tommy said cautiously as he watched Kim's effort to try and figure out if the baby's death was related to the Equaline wave they had crashed through.

She was working fast and furiously over a control panel in the hidden room of light. He knew she had to start by establishing a link to their timeline in the future, but the mechanics of it baffled him; he didn't understand half of what she was doing.

He'd come to recognize that she was using the same series of movements, all supposedly the same procedure, then waiting as a series of colored lights and lines erupted around her. Each and every time, she would stop the procedure after a few minutes and begin again, but he couldn't tell the difference between sessions.

"I need equipment that doesn't exist." She muttered, scrapping the latest lightshow and starting over. "I have to do it the old way and it takes far more time to get it right."

"You're trying to see if the Equaline wave has already started?" He asked, but she shook her head no.

"It won't start right away. It can take decades from the catalyst event to form and begin rolling in earnest."

"Then it's not too late to prevent it?" He asked hopefully.

"No." She answered firmly and his heart sank. "No, whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. The timeline shifts begin about 1890 and then seriously get rolling about 1912 when my grandfather was born. There are signs of adjustments; that seems to prove that someone specifically targeted my ancestry, then tried to make it look like nothing had happened so no one would notice."

"That's not good." He commented, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees.

"No." She answered, starting her work over again. "It doesn't make sense. You never, ever go back and wipeout entire generations. The effect is too drastic. It took someone with a lot of knowledge of the timelines, a high level master, someone who knew how to go back in and specifically replace people to stabilize a dimension. Someone who also had inside information on who my grandfather was. It's not common knowledge at all that he was a adopted; even in the continuum."

"Any chance it was just a fluke?" He asked hopefully. Children died all the time; even in the twenty-first century. It was unfortunate, but it happened.

"No." She replied, shaking her head again. "Someone specifically targeted this timeline, they made minor adjustments all the way up to the early decades of the twentieth century and then apparently lost control. That's a ton of work. There's no chance it was a random event that someone tried to go back and fix later on."

"So what now?" He asked, fidgeting a little with his fingers. He was never very good at sitting still without something to do and he hated that he couldn't help out. Curtis had gone home again and both Alpha and Zordon were trying to trace the anomalies in the morphin grid that had appeared shortly before their arrival. "If our timeline's erased, how do you go about finding it again?" He asked out of curiosity.

"It's still there." She murmured absently. "Like when a file goes missing on a computer. I just have to search through the continuum's version of a hard drive and find the right pieces; then save them all back into one place where I can read and stabilize them."

"And you can do that?" He asked uncertainly. "You have that kind of power now?"

She sat up and regarded him as if wondering how much to say. "I have a talent for it." She said after a few moments. "It's not like what happened on Muirantias made me particularly powerful; it just sort of intensified my innate abilities; made them easier to use. That's why Jason and I are different, even though we both experienced the same thing inside the pit." She paused a moment, making a sour face; as if not really wanting to talk about it. "I somehow always know where the pieces fit. Just like I always seem to know where those children fit. It's kind of like listening to noise in a really crowded room full of television sets all set to different channels. I can hear the sound qualities that belong together and fine tune the controls so that they're all set to the same program."

"And who taught you that?" He asked, wishing he'd gone back and read more of her diaries. But she simply shrugged and went back to her work. Eventually, he leaned back and closed his eyes as if trying to take a nap.

"It can't be taught." She said after a while. "You either have the knack or you don't; which is why Thomas needs me. He can't do what he does without help and he knows I'll stay quiet about his activities." She admitted.

That tweaked his interest and he mulled over the implications of what she was admitting to and how he could utilize her talents when they finally made their way back home. Looking back down, she once again started over and began her search again. "It still doesn't look like it's easy." He commented after a few minutes.

"No, it's not." She muttered in frustration. "Especially without my gear. All I have to work with are Zordon's tools and they're centuries out of date. It's like trying to launch a rocket with a slide rule; doable but requiring far more talent than I have at the moment. I'm going as much on instinct as procedure."

Another silence descended between them then and he simply watched her for a while, mind drifting and actually feeling bored for the first time in years. After what seemed like an eternity of nothing for him to do, Zordon appeared in the Power Tube attached to the far side of the chamber.

"Kimberly," His deep voice resonated throughout the small room, "Have you succeeded in isolating your resident timeline?"

"Not yet." Kim admitted, "But I'm getting closer."

"Then given the recent events affecting our present, I must insist both for your safety and that of our resident team that you take morphanological and equilibrium precautions by resetting your signatures to this timeline. An immediate equalization process is necessary."

"That seems a bit drastic." Kim said uneasily, closing down her work and standing up to approach the tube cautiously.

Tommy said nothing, but his stomach lurched at the look on his wife's face. It wasn't complete panic, but there was enough horror in her eyes to make him rise from his seat and move toward her.

"It is extreme, but necessary. I have recently been made aware of a second Equaline wave effecting Earth's distant past." Zordon said solemnly. "I have already immunized myself and Alpha's databanks against its encroachment, but I feel it is also necessary to do the same for both you and Tommy. At this juncture, we are the only ones aware that a second Equaline wave is also effecting Earth's future. I strongly believe that only two beings capable of reinstating that future are you and your husband and, if my theories are correct, the restoration of this future is the only way to halt the other Equaline wave and re-establish our distant past."

"Wait a minute." Tommy interrupted, he didn't know much about timelines and Equaline waves, but he was learning fast. "Kim thinks the Equaline wave began by eliminating her ancestor from your present, your past should be fine."

"You are correct Tommy." Zordon answered patiently. "In a normal scenario we would only be concerned with the linear path of the future. However, Kimberly is a documented time traveler and her experiences and activities from this dimension's future directly affect our own distant historical past."

"My accidental journey back to Ivan's time six thousand years ago." Kim muttered, referring to the ill fated leap through time with Jason and Carri.

"And other undocumented journeys that quite possibly have yet to be realized." Zordon agreed, nodding. "Given the instability of the universe at this time, I must insist on precautions. You are our only link to repairing the damage done to this present. Not only must you be immune to the effects of the Equaline wave heading towards us, you must also conceal your identity from those who will travel back in time to repair the wave threatening our future."

"Why?" Tommy asked, frowning. If there were beings expected to travel back to repair the damage, then it would make far more sense to join forces than work independently.

"I'm not exactly, officially, allowed to be here." Kim admitted sheepishly. "Or back in Tom's time….or back…"

"I get it." Tommy interrupted, giving her a frustrated look. "So what exactly does this equalization process entail?"

"I should go first." Kim said uneasily, obviously bracing herself. At his questioning look, she added, "It's harder for adults. We don't take as well to forced changes in our Circadian rhythm and no Ranger does well when their morphanological energies are tampered with. I'll be fine." She tried to say reassuringly. "I trust Zordon to do this; which I can't say for many others. Just…no matter what happens, don't touch me until I tell you alright?"

Tommy nodded uneasily and she stepped a little further away from him; stealing herself for what she knew was to come. She closed her eyes tightly and nodded slowly towards Zordon's Power Tube, waiting for the inevitable.

An instant later a beam of blue light shot towards her, knocking her clear across the room and slamming her into the far wall. Heeding her advice, Tommy rushed forward but didn't touch her. Instead, he watched helplessly as hot red and pink energy whipped and crackled around her and she wreathed in pain. It was all too similar to the memories of when he had lost his green morphing power and he frowned deeply both in sympathy and at his own inability to help her.

"She will be fine Tommy." Zordon said gently from behind him. "When dealing with an adult, it is better to execute the equalization in small phases; unfortunately, time does not allow us that luxury."

"I'm alright." Kim groaned unconvincingly. She rolled to her stomach as the energy ceased to buzz around her and then nodded at him when he leaned forward to help her up. Gulping huge gasps of air, she leaned against him until she felt stable enough to stand on her own. "I hate that process." She hissed quietly.

"You've had it done before." He stated and she nodded, not meeting his eyes.

"It's necessary sometimes." She answered, smiling weakly, large brown eyes lifting to his and seeming to apologize to him. "You're next sweetheart."

* * *

Tommy was aware that the blackness was lifting. He was laying on a fairly soft platform, but the softness wasn't uniform and there were prickles in odd places. His feet were overly warm, but his face, shoulders and hands were cold. The sheets felt weird too, they weren't the high count cotton ones his mother had bought him when he moved to Angel Grove; then he began to remember.

He opened his eyes and glanced around a surprisingly well furnished room. The walls were neatly papered in a heavy brocade style with bright pinks and reds, but the furniture looked far more appropriate for an old fashioned dollhouse than real life. Delicate lace curtains peaked out from under heavy red velvet drapes and a muted orange glow just barely seeped through a tiny square window just beyond. He had no idea where he was.

The bed itself was narrow, but there was room enough for two pillows and the frame was heavy and intricately carved. Looking around, he realized it was tucked away against the far side of the room and the reason his feet were so warm was because a fire burned cheerfully in a small fireplace located off to one side.

He could hear kitchen sounds coming through from beyond the closed doorframe; pots clanking, silverware clinking, muted voices talking. Listening carefully, he could hear his wife in quiet conversation with another woman, but the sounds of the kitchen drowned out most of the words, making the gist of the dialogue impossible to understand.

Sitting up, he slid his feet out from under the thick layers of quilts, then froze as he realized he was wearing some kind of night gown. On closer inspection, he realized it was a nightshirt; one not too un-similar from one he'd worn in a holiday play in Junior High School. It was plain white cotton with tiny buttons on the long sleeves and down the front of his chest. His feet had heavy wool stockings on them too and, amused at the situation he found himself in, he reached up to his head to see if there was a night cap too, but there wasn't and he rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it all.

Sliding off the bed, he padded over to the heavy doorframe and quietly turned the glass knob. He had no memory of leaving the Command Center and assumed his wife had brought him to Curtis's home, but he couldn't be sure. Carefully, he edged the solid door inward, peaking out as a warm yellow kerosene light streamed through. He could smell bacon and eggs and bread and a whole host of foods he'd long since curtailed from his diet in an effort to stay healthy and not die early from heart disease like his dad had. In response to the divine odors assaulting his nose, his stomach growled nosily, demanding to be fed, and he wondered how long he'd been asleep. It had been early morning when they arrived and afternoon when Kimberly had set to work; he knew he'd been offered food, but he wasn't sure if he'd eaten or not.

It was all very strange. He had absolutely no memory of coming to this house and that simply didn't sit well with him. He'd had his memory erased before and it didn't feel like that, yet everything from the time Kimberly had braced him for the equalization process was completely blank. He hadn't even dreamt. Opening the door a little wider, he could more easily hear the conversation in the kitchen beyond the door.

"Stay still." Kim admonished, in a testy voice.

"Now Curtis you listen to Miss Kimmee." Another female voice chastised in a heavy southern accent. "That pretty face of yours is gonna end up sliced if you don't."

"I am sitting still." Curtis's voice grumbled. "She's going too fast; it burns."

"Then let Alicia do it." Kim returned a grumpy tone. "I'm tired. I've been up all night and I really don't care at this point if you've got whiskers or not."

"Oh no, I'm not touching that pretty face again this morning." The other woman fired back. "No siree. Him all squirming around like a little boy with crickets in his britches, complaining I don't do it like Miss Kimmee. Curtis you got yourself Miss K herself standing right there and you still can't sit yourself still in that chair."

Amused by the banter, Tommy opened the door a little wider to see Curtis leaning back in a sturdy wooden chair next to a heavy pine table. His face was frosted with shaving soap and Kim was leaning over him with a straight razor. It looked as if she'd gotten most of one half of his face done and had just begun scraping the second half.

Curtis was fidgeting, leg tapping rhythmically and fingers worrying against themselves. Behind them a middle aged black woman was cutting biscuits from a roll of dough on the table and slapping them on a large metal tray. She dusted the flour from her hands and picked up the tray, only to stop and stare at him peeking beyond the unlatched door.

"Your man's up." She commented wryly, turning her back and sliding the biscuits into a metal oven in the brick wall next to a large fireplace behind her.

Kim looked up at the other woman, then at the cracked doorway and grinned. "You stay right there." She fussed at Curtis, wiping the straight razor on a towel and laying both on the heavy kitchen table.

"I can probably finish myself." He muttered, sitting up a little in his chair, but she shushed him and forced his head back into a reclining position by pulling unceremoniously his long hair.

"You'll sit." She said firmly. "Alicia's right, if we stop now you'll be mismatched on one side."

"Kimmee, your husband's not gonna want you shaving another man…" He protested as she slid passed him toward the doorway.

"My husband will be just fine with it." She answered gruffly, not turning around. "Especially since he's next and he knows damn well how out of practice I am."

Tommy blinked as she made her way around Curtis and approached the door. If he didn't know it was his wife, he might not have recognized her. Her hair was pinned back, high on her head, and she wore a long straight calico skirt and white shirt with puffed sleeves. A heavy duty apron covered the front of her outfit and he could see a few stains of flour and grease as well as the shaving soap.

"Good morning!" She chimed, pushing the door open and exposing his hiding place. "How are you feeling?"

"A little disoriented." He admitted sheepishly, stepping backward as she entered and ignoring the fact that she'd caught him eavesdropping. "But surprisingly good."

"I'm not surprised." She answered, lifting her hand with authority to feel his cheek and forehead. "Fever's gone. You remember anything?"

"Last thing I remember is Zordon starting the equalization…." He started, but she cut him off by holding up her hand.

"Later…" She said simply, slipping by him into the small room. "Let me help you get washed and dressed. It takes a bit of getting used to and Alicia doesn't have the patience nor the time this morning to walk you through it. She's grieving terribly for that baby and taking it out on everything and everyone in sight."

"That's Alicia as in…Aisha's…" He asked hesitantly.

"Yes." She answered firmly. "She's the housekeeper and cook for Curtis and his managers. Don't let her fool you, she'll act the part of a housekeeper, but I think in some ways she's more well read than William is…She's also a damn good nurse and midwife; all the families around here call on her. She's particularly good with the little ones when they get sick."

"How'd I get here?" He asked as she opened a wardrobe opposite the door and pulled out a small pile of period clothing from its brown paper wrapping.

"On your own, but I helped you dress for bed and tucked you in." She said with a mischievous twinkle. "I used an amnesia procedure Lerigot taught me so you'd forget the worst of the procedure." She admitted, tossing the paper down on the bed. "Don't get mad at me," She added quickly, glancing at him to see how he'd reacted. "Trust me, it helps. I was so achy I couldn't sleep at all last night. It made you appear overly tired by the time we got to the ranch, but no one but Alicia waited up for us, so it really didn't matter."

Tommy opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when a sharp knock rapped at the door. He turned as Kim slid past him, skirt rustling, and opened it.

"His water's ready." Alicia said simply. "Not gonna be a full bath, but enough to get him past the service this morning. If he's anything like that baby doll solider over there whining over my kitchen table at shaving his whiskers mid week, he's gonna want it hot. Best get to." She directed in a no-nonsense voice.

"Alicia this is my husband Tommy." Kim said in a bemused voice, sliding past her and pulling her confused husband behind her. Tommy frowned as he got a closer look at the woman. She was an incredibly tiny woman, markedly shorter than Kim, and although she looked rail thin, he didn't have any doubts that she was very strong and muscular beneath her apron and skirts. She looked nothing like Aisha and he frowned again, trying to correlate Kim's descriptions of her as a pretty black girl with a yellow parasol.

"We met already." Alicia answered gruffly; sharp, no-nonsense eyes looking Tommy up and down in his night shirt. She thrust a pile of linens in his chest and he was surprised to find they were warmed towels. "Although those big brown eyes of yours were more than three quarters closed at the time." She added with a huff. "Well, get yourself going Mr. Husband of Miss Kimmee." She directed sharply, pointing in the direction Kim was pulling him when he stopped to examine the linens. "That water's not gonna hold for you and I'm too busy this morning to run anymore baths…you hear me Miss 'So fastidious even a bed bug would vomit, gotta have a bath every night' Princess Kimberly?" She asked Kim gruffly, hands on her hips. Not receiving any other response other than a tolerant grin, she turned sharply in a whirl of petticoats and marched away back towards several pots and pans crackling on an old black stove; leaving Tommy feeling summarily dismissed.

Not exactly sure what to do and feeling more than a little self conscious in the dress-like night shirt, he followed his wife numbly through a narrow entryway, turning sharply to the right and down a short tapered hallway. It was one of those creepy, odd hallways that you found in very old houses; one that left you feeling like it was a hidden secret passage even though it was in plain view and was so low he felt he had to duck to keep from smashing his head on the exposed wooden beams above.

Abruptly, within a few steps he came into an incredibly tiny plastered room that was instantly recognizable as a fairly modern bathroom. It was barely larger than the half bath in his old Reefside home, but he didn't care; now he didn't have to ask about an outhouse.

Directly in front of him, blocking his path so that he had to step around it was a remarkably good sized porcelain tub, complete with faucets for running water. In the far corner of the low ceilinged room, was a pull-chain toilet. Bumping up against the exposed brick wall behind the tub, he was startled to discover that it was warm and immediately realized the tiny room had been carved out behind the large wall oven in the kitchen.

"Curtis likes his modern amenities." Kim said with a grin, watching his reaction as she placed the garments on a shelf and took the linen towels from him. "He says he put this room in for me," She sniffed, "But Alicia and I know better. That toilet came all the way from Boston and it may look jury-rigged, but it really works; just don't pull the chain too many times in one day."

"I'm not complaining." He answered with feeling. He'd read enough history to know that indoor toilets were rare enough at the turn of the nineteenth century; let alone a full bathroom with running water.

"The tub drains into Alicia's garden outside, but don't pull the cork when you're done." She advised. "Alicia's right, there's barely enough hot water in the cistern for one person this morning let alone four. I need to get in there when you're done."

"You don't want to go first?" He asked in surprise.

"A good Victorian wife tends to her husband first." She replied piously, obviously parroting a lesson from the other woman working in the kitchen. "Besides, I had a quick one last night, I just need to wash off the sweat from baking all morning. Alicia's already said she's not going to cook again later, so we've made dinner for the main house as well as breakfast."

"You don't want to jump in and share?" He suggested mischievously.

"We're in the nineteenth century sweetie." She replied with a twinkle in her eyes that belied the fatigue he saw in them. "Nice women don't do that…besides, I need to help get breakfast out to the managers table in the next building over. Rocco's going to eat outside with his rancheros, then join us when we leave. I'll introduce you on the way to the service. I haven't seen Abraham yet, but he'll be along; he never misses a chance to go Rangering again."

"They all work here?" He asked, pulling off his nightshirt, then coming to a full stop and gawking at the buckled straps of leather holding up the thick wool socks. "You gotta be kidding me…" He muttered, picking at the brass fastener. "Garters? Wait….what service?"

"The funeral service for little Frank. You remember, the whole reason we were so unceremoniously dumped back here. Funerals are held quickly; they have to be. You need help getting those off?" She asked, pointing at the straps.

Tommy stood back up and looked at her blankly, processing all she'd said. After a few seconds he shook his head and then bent back down to un-fascine them himself.

"Don't take too long." She advised. "I'll be back in as soon as I help Alicia take the food out."

"Wait, you didn't answer me. They all work here?" He asked again, going back to his original question. "I thought they all had other jobs in town."

"That was over ten years ago Tommy." She said with a sigh from the edge of the hallway. She paused and frowned long enough for him to look back up and ask what was wrong. "This isn't the twenty-first century." She said quietly. "What I told the others the first time I fell back in time…about their ancestors…" She paused again and he waited a few moments before nodding in a gesture that urged her to continue. "Nothing." She said quietly, biting her lip and shaking her head slightly. "Things are a bit different here in this time zone. Political correctness won't be invented for nearly another century. They stay together because they're a team and they genuinely care about each other like we care about our teammates. Curtis can offer them a good life and protection from the outside world."

"Protection from what?" He asked, gut sinking as he realized what she was talking about.

"You're water's getting cold." She answered over her shoulder as she left down the short hall.

* * *

Netau exhaled in irritation as the last of the equalization tremors reverberated through his body; blending his morphanological energies with the energies of the time zone in which he stood. He'd barely escaped the second Equaline wave with his memory intact and the very fact that he had to endure another self preservation technique annoyed him. If the council would simply elevate him to the status he deserved, he wouldn't need such barbaric techniques. He would be immortal; time would be irrelevant and he could simply watch the fluctuations with apathy.

He watched with relative disinterest as the first rays of the morning radiated a brilliant orange against the deep midnight blue sky over the desert. Something had gone terribly wrong. What, he didn't know yet. He was never wrong and the knowledge that he had made a mistake aggravated him to no end.

For thousands of years he had purposely and seamlessly manipulated his own agenda. He knew how to maneuver the intertwining lines and dimensional boundaries with the skill of a master artist. How he had miscalculated was unfathomable.

He had first tried to eradicate the young demon spawn by traditional means. Unfortunately she had a surprisingly strong number of supporters and the more established and time-honored methods had not proven very effective. He had then tried to do away with her surreptitiously by less conventional techniques; again he had failed.

In frustration, he'd recently begun eliminating her ancestry, yet still she had proven an elusive quarry; proving to him that Zordon and his ilk had had more than a small hand in her development. The knowledge made him seethe. She was a non-entity in countless alternate universes; it simply didn't make sense for there to be reverberations to purging her from history.

Unfortunately he couldn't simply stop now that he had begun trying; there was far too much riding on his eliminating her from the timelines. There were too many forces that had given him an ultimatum; extinguish the girl or risk exposure for his dealings. It was a prickly situation to be in and he simply didn't like it; resented it actually.

He hadn't started out to work on the more murkier side of things; it had simply happened. A balance had to be maintained and as a Dimensional Guardian he was completely and utterly devoted to that balance. As he matured though, he began to realize that the universe was not simply black and white. There was no good against evil as he'd believed all those centuries ago in his youth; there was only an endlessly churning mass of grey…if one was completely devoted to the Great Balance. If one truly sought that balance, how could one not consort with the other side from time to time? It was a truth that had not only enlightened his naive self, but brought him great power.

There were many, many rewards to be had on the other side; rewards his prudish colleagues were far too frightened of to embrace. After eons of careful exploitation, he was far beyond the pristine holiness of his adolescence. He now understood the advantages to be had by serving both sides of the equilibrium.

True to his utter genius, he had kept his fingers pristinely clean of his more…shadowy activities. That is, until the girl had arrived. Turning away from the nature of her birth in Maligore's fire pit had been bad enough, but it had shaken the balance to the point where his own personal interests were at risk…and that could simply not be tolerated.

Precedent had been set by Kemora. Kemora was the heir to Maligore and quite possibly Dark Specter. The fluffy idiot he'd been sent to dispose of was heir to nothing; except perhaps, as part of Zordon's haphazard legacy. Besides, she had refused him when he offered to educate her to the true nature of her potential power as a demon spawn; no one turned their back on him…he was nearly a god.

His darker colleagues would not tolerate her defection; the forces of good couldn't tolerate her Maligorian ancestry. It was simple really, she needed to go and both sides were willing to reward him handsomely for taking care of the difficult situation she presented. He was always the being to go to when something needed to be done quietly; his reputation was impeccable. It was too good to be true, he had thought at the time, both sides were willing to reward him exponentially and he could settle his own personal score at the same time.

But the girl was not as easily removed as he first thought. In the beginning, she'd been protected; first by Zordon and then others of his ilk. As she grew, so did her power; that made far too many in the continuum impatient for him to act quickly. Attempts to exterminate her by assigning her hopeless missions into dark dimensions had proven ineffective; she always managed to live through them. Attempts at openly assassinating her had raised too many nervous eyes in his direction. Even sending her alternate Kemora against her hadn't worked. Worse, she was quickly becoming an acceptable anomaly and that could not be tolerated. It was no longer a game to him; it was extremely personal. He stood to lose far too much to meekly accept defeat and allow her to live.

His only solution seem to lay in maneuvering the timeline; eradication before birth. The timing of such a procedure was a tricky thing, but not impossible for a near deity like himself. Even though it wasn't strictly his timeline, he knew the period well; knew the anomalies, the cross references to other alternate universes…knew how to place things in the exact order so that her absence would never be noticed. But the more he worked, the more he realized how much time had already been manipulated in her dimension.

He'd had to work fast. When one procedure hadn't worked he'd had to skip back and quickly implement another. Yet on all attempts the girl continued to appear; born in history exactly as she was supposed to….which told him she was placed specifically, but by whom was a mystery.

Frustrated, he'd had no choice but to travel further into the past than the other manipulations. Traveling back too many generations was a dangerous thing. Extinguish too many ancestors and time would buckle; which was exactly what happened. Not only had the future experienced an Equaline wave, but the damn thing had snapped back and begun a second Equaline wave over eight thousand years into the past…and not just in the girl's home dimension, but others as well.

It was completely baffling. Not since the Demon King had been exiled ten-thousand years before, when the forces of good and evil had first banded together to restore the Great Balance, had such a phenomenon been witnessed. Worse, it had been traced back to his recruits.

He himself, fortunately, had not been implicated. A fact he directly attributed to those he had done favors for throughout his tenure with the Guardians. Ironically, it was he whom they had turned to for help; most likely to avoid implication themselves. It was he who had been sent back in time to search out and repair the damage. Fortunately, he didn't have to search very hard for the catalyst. He knew exactly the mistake that had been made; he was the one who had made it.

As the sun merged from brilliant orange into more muted yellows he remained unimpressed and apathetic to the beauty of the world around him. The girl was more trouble than she was worth. Fortunately, history could be repaired and it would be he who emerged the hero; the grand savior of the balance returning in triumph once again after setting the universe back to right. Perhaps then he would have enough influence to terminate her openly; he'd certainly be owed enough favors.

Breathing in deeply of the chill winter air, he straightened his period clothing and placed a large brimmed hat upon his head. Today, he would save the timeline from an out of control time anomaly which no one else knew how to fix. Tomorrow he would focus on his primary objective. The girl would die.

* * *

Kim cursed a little too loudly as the frilled trim to her black polonaise caught on the side of the buggy and Rocco snickered wickedly at the un-ladylike behavior from his mount a little ways off to the side. He snickered again as Curtis jumped to help her, then jumped back in a quick fluid moment, allowing her husband to untangle the snarl and help her to get seated. If the idea of Miss Kimmee having a husband was odd to him, he had no idea how Curtis was handling it.

Rocco had long since thought Curtis was holding out for the day Miss Kimmee returned from the future for good; although neither Alicia nor William shared his opinion. Still, in his estimation, his friend was far too close to the pretty woman not to be slightly in love with her…and who wouldn't love a beautiful and mysterious woman who could bat her eyes coyly in one moment and take down an evil monster in the next? If he hadn't been married to the mother of his eight children since the age of fourteen, he might also spare Miss Kimmee a thought; but the bigger part of him silently knew he'd never have a chance at even dabbling with her.

"That's going to be a problem." He said aloud in heavily accented Spanish, nodding at the new husband who looked so much like the leader of their team.

Curtis turned and regarded him coolly, understanding both the language and the implied double implication perfectly. "Don't know what you mean." He answered casually in the same language.

His passengers settled, he grabbed the reins and clicked the team of horses in motion; the stocky Mexican man following lazily on his horse. He knew Rocco wouldn't turn down a chance to tease him about Kimberly and also knew he was referring as much to his having to alter his close, familial behavior toward her as well as her husband's remarkable likeness to himself.

"The man could be your twin." Rocco replied lazily, horse keeping pace off to the side. He knew Kim could understand him well enough, but he didn't know if she understood the double barbs he was shooting. "How do plan on introducing him?"

"He's Kimmee's husband." Curtis replied casually. "That speaks for itself."

"My friend, he introduced himself to me but a few minutes ago as Oliver. That will not do." Rocco drawled, purposely adding as much of a provincial accent to his words as he could to keep the others who spoke is native tongue from eavesdropping. The Rancheros he managed weren't coming, they had work to do and besides that they hadn't been invited, but he knew some of the other hands trailing behind the open carriage spoke a bit of Spanish too and he wanted to be careful.

"Speak your mind Ricardo." Curtis replied, eyes firmly fixed on the dusty road in front of him.

"My mind and my good sense is telling me we need to be careful with this." He answered, pulling up closer alongside his friend. "It's well known that Miss Kimmee shares the same family name that you do. We established firmly that she was your kin nearly a decade ago when the Indian Agents were trying to steal your lands and force you onto the reservation with your wife's, may she rest in holy peace, children and the others. She fought hard for you and proved, with our great Zordon's help, that you were a white landowner with a long history in California, but she had to claim you as her own to do it. We've told all the county judges that she's your sister; although few in our town believe it." He admitted, with a tilt of his head. There were many who still believed the two to be lovers and the appearance of a husband who looked so resoundingly similar to Curtis was certainly going to prove amusing to watch; especially among the clucking hens of the church's congregation.

"I'm aware of that." Curtis muttered, jaw set tightly, eyes still forward. He hadn't asked for Kim's help in that matter, and it still chaffed him a bit. He hadn't appreciated being forced to turn his back on True of Heart and the others in order to keep his lands and bank accounts, but she had been right. He was in a much better position to help them all as a rich land owner rather than an over educated half breed without a penny to his name. Since that time Indian relations had markedly settled and Angel Grove enjoyed a peace with their neighbors on the reserved lands that other communities in the west were not as fortunate to have… although the Indian agents still pestered him and the newer land owners and ranchers settling into their growing community grumbled against him and his long hair and tan skin. "What are you suggesting?"

"My good friend, you cannot have your sister married to a man who is your twin in both looks and age."

"I'm aware of that. Make your point." He answered in a sharper tone than he'd intended.

"So she must be your sister in law. The husband must take your last name of Hart and do so before he is introduced to the townsfolk." Rocco suggested.

"It's well known my brothers and I don't speak." He muttered crossly. At least that part of his history was true, he thought grimly. He had three brothers in San Francisco with a completely different last name than the one he'd adopted; all of them made wealthy and respectable by their father's luck at mining gold in the earliest months before the great gold rush.

He was the baby, born to the second, much younger, wife. Although he had been tolerated and educated and was entitled by law to his share of his father's estate, his brothers had resented dividing the assets to include him as much as they resented the fact that he was obviously a throwback to an ancestry they had fought long and hard to ignore. They considered him an embarrassment and detrimental to their political aspirations. In return, he grew up to loathe them and their pretentiousness; which is why he'd migrated south.

"You are a quiet man of many eccentricities." Rocco continued. "Not differentiating between a sister and a sister in law is not uncommon in some cultures and can more easily be regarded as simply being another of your peculiarities than explaining how your sister married your twin with a different last name." Rocco offered.

"I agree." Kim answered in English, rocking and swaying with the bumpy carriage. She met Rocco's eyes and held them until a slow, evil looking smile spread across his wide face. He knew very well that if Miss Kimmee told him to do something, Curtis would generally do it. It pleased him to no end to be right. She held his eyes sternly for another moment or two, just enough him to nod in acknowledgment, then turned around to face the backs of Curtis and her husband in front of her.

"Do I at least get a say in this?" Tommy asked, turning around, eyebrow raising.

Rocco pulled up short in the saddle at the realization the husband had understood their conversation, then clicked his horse to a trot to pull alongside them again. He hadn't expected the man to speak his home language let alone understand the thick accent he'd placed on each word. Not even some of his rancheros could understand him fully when he used heavy slang of his province and the language barrier had become a game of sorts between him and Curtis. His friend prided himself on easily learning and speaking many languages and being able to learn idioms quickly; he found it highly amusing to stump him from time to time.

"No." Kim said definitely and Tommy noticed the carefully concealed grins that appeared on the other two men's faces.

"How long have you been married husband?" Rocco asked in a sing-song, broken English, addressing Tommy directly for the first time.

"A while." Kim answered for him and again he turned to give her an amused, but measuring look.

"Not long enough to know that what Miss Kimmee wants, Miss Kimmee gets eh?" Rocco laughed and Tommy turned to regard the small Mexican man evenly.

Rocco was not anything the way Kim had described him any more than Alicia was. Where Alicia was sharp and absolutely no nonsense, Rocco was laid back and aloof. Something about the wiry cowboy made Tommy uneasy.

He was a short, stocky man in his early thirties and was very native looking; where his descendant Rocky wasn't at all. He wasn't dirty, but he wasn't clean either. He was definitely a long established cow hand and somehow Tommy doubted the story that he'd ever been a stage coach driver like Kim had reported. The man had two, beautifully inlaid silver guns slung low on his hips and he had no doubt by the way his wiry eyes automatically scanned the surrounding landscape for trouble that the man knew exactly how to use them.

"It's alright husband." He chuckled in his heavy accent. "You will learn soon enough that a man must keep his wife very happy no?….Especially when that wife can kick ass like…"

"That's enough Rocco." Curtis interrupted, shooting the other man a stern look.

"What?" Rocco fired back in mock offense. "It isn't like everybody doesn't already know that Miss Kimmee is Calamity Kim…Bart's made sure…ah well, you will learn husband; you will learn."

Tommy turned back around in his seat with an appraising look and watched as Kim fussed and straightened the eyelet lace of the fancy bustled polonaise covering her skirt. She met his eyes coolly and far too innocently and it was all he could do not to burst out laughing; she looked guiltier than sin.

"Why do I get the feeling," He asked quietly, giving her a look that was amused yet admonishing, "That there is far more to your story here than you've previously related."

"I don't know what you mean." Kim said innocently, blinking her eyes.

Tommy's look turned a little less amused and a slightly more reproving. "We've been here less than twenty-four hours." He answered sternly. "And in less than five minutes with your friends I've already determined half of what you told me and the others about this time period isn't exactly true."

"It was all true." She answered defensively. "I just maybe…glossed over a few things." She added meekly, wincing at the stern, angry teacher-like, look he gave her; then shot Curtis and Rocco vicious looks as they burst out laughing.

"Miss Kimmee gloss over things?" Curtis asked with a chuckle, thinking of all the times she'd descended upon their lives and turned the world upside down and sideways; "glossing over" the cold hard facts until even the townspeople didn't know what the norm was. "Lord Almighty Tommy. If you're in the least bit surprised by that, then you really don't know the little girl you got yourself married to, do you?"

"That's becoming increasingly apparent." Tommy muttered irritably; humor sliding away with the other men's laughter. In response, Kim bit her lip and gave him an overly docile and contrite look until he turned around.

Crossing his arms firmly in front of him, he fought the urge to groan. He was in a time zone he didn't understand, in a predicament he didn't fully understand, and surrounded by people he didn't understand. It dawned on him about then that he was also completely at the mercy of a wife he didn't fully understand either. He didn't think for one minute that she had lied to him about her adventures in the past with the Western Rangers, but he was also realizing that her concept of the truth, however justified given the nature of her assignments, was slightly warped.

One thing was certain, he needed to figure out his role in their current dilemma quickly. It was increasingly obviously that the Western Rangers had no qualms about deferring to his wife and that her authority over them was well established. He knew she had led teams before, knew she was capable, had already reached out to utilize her skills under his direction, but having Kimberly in complete charge of the serious situation they found themselves in, no matter how much he loved her, simply didn't sit very well.


	4. Chapter 4: Miss Caroline

HARTLAND

By: KSuzie

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney, everything else belongs to me._

* * *

Chapter 4: Miss Caroline

* * *

Penelope Caroline Benton had about as unfortunate a beginning to life as one could get. Born several weeks earlier than she should have been, on April 12, 1861, the day of the battle of Fort Sumter, she entered the world as the youngest daughter of a wealthy Charleston businessman who wanted nothing more than for her to quickly pass on, as the doctor assured him she would, so that he could move his family as far away from the brewing hostilities between the north and south as he possibly could.

Unfortunately, it was not the tenacious newborn who passed away, but her mother and older sister as a small outbreak of typhoid rocked an already panicking city less than a week later. The baby, whom no one had bothered to name, was quickly christened Penelope Caroline after her mother and sister respectively, more than a month after she entered the world. Placed in the care of a nurse, her father then transplanted his family from Charleston to Chicago and promptly forgot about her in his efforts to put his life as a southerner behind him.

Life, growing up the smallest child and only female in a house full of rambunctious boys, wasn't terrible. Her father was wealthy and had made sure his boys were well educated. Caroline, used to fighting for what she needed, never thought twice about demanding her brother's tutors teach her as well and, as her father could really care less, the tutors obliged. She learned to speak, read, and write in English and in French and was better at both Latin and Greek than any of her siblings. She was also a wild and unruly hellion.

By 1871, when the Great Fire ripped through the city and, in turn, made the survivors more aware and grateful for their families, Caroline was already a well established and spunky tomboy who would spit fire if anyone dared suggest she put on a skirt. Horrified that the tiny girl was six times bolder than any of her four older brothers and was quickly becoming a true embarrassment to him, her father quickly shipped her off to a strict boarding school in Europe with explicit instructions to make a lady out of her; then quite literally forgot about her again.

Returning to Chicago six years later at the age of sixteen, her father was pleased to note that the unruliness had been well beaten out of her. He had remarried by then to an upstanding young socialite and Caroline returned to find her own brothers grown and gone and not only a whole new set of children gracing her father's home, but a waspishly protective step mother barely five years older than she was. In desperation, she set about finding herself a way out; namely, a husband.

Unfortunately, intelligence, tenacity, and wit were not exactly desirable traits in young women of Victorian society, but Caroline had many other qualities to commend her. She was a tiny young woman, barely four foot eight with heeled shoes, but she had a plethora of thick chocolate brown sausage curls, huge doe brown eyes, and approached flirtation the way her father approached a business contract; unmercifully. She considered herself ten times as smart as any man she'd ever met and just as smartly concealed that fact very well. Within three months, she was the socialite every young man turned inside out for and by the time she turned seventeen, had at least four good candidates for a husband vying for her.

All of them were from wealthy Chicago families, most of them were well educated, and all of them were more than eager to win her affection. But although Caroline was the epitome of a sophisticated Victorian young lady, she'd never quite managed to squelch her inner unruly side and it was this one character flaw that caused her to make the worst decision of her young life.

Francis Lucian Carson was nothing if not charming. He was a younger son of a very wealthy buisnessman and even claimed distant ties to the Astor family back east. She thought him a bit of a dunderhead and not really marriage material, but he was dashing, rich, and just ever so slightly wild. Caroline found this feral side intriguing and she would later recall that it was this one singular fatal attraction that ruined her life forever.

No less than a month after her seventeenth birthday, she was horrified to have been caught by one of her siblings in a more than compromising position and whisked away to a more than hasty marriage. She was further devastated to learn that her father, ever inattentive in her life, finally considered himself done with her. Her brothers, all of whom vied for control over his businesses, followed his lead least their father's favor be compromised.

Francis, fortunately, had a plan. Convincing his father to divvy up his share of his inheritance early, he set off to California to found a sheep ranch. Even if having Francis as her husband didn't exactly appeal to her, the idea of a western adventure did. An avid reader, she'd thrilled to the stories of Wild Bill and other western heroes. For the first year, Francis would send letters once a month, detailing his purchase of land, the construction of a home, and his purchase of stock.

The letters were rosy and flowery and she actually found herself quite excited by the prospect. Content and actually quite happy, she eagerly awaited for him to send word that the homestead was built and she should follow him. But when the second year approached with little to no word for her to actually make the journey west, she took things into her own hands. She managed to convince her in-laws that they should pony up the money to send her themselves and, as eager to have her out of their home as she was, they obliged. Caroline traveled by rail as far as she could, finally arriving by stagecoach in the spring of 1880; just after her nineteenth birthday.

Ninetieth century Angel Grove, she quickly discovered, was not the paradise her husband had portrayed. Far from being pleased that she had taken the initiative, her husband had been furious. It seemed that Caroline was quite the abandoned wife; no one in town knew Francis was married except her. He had bolted, but at the same time was stupid enough to give her his forwarding address; worse, he was broke.

The idea of a sheep ranch, it seemed, hadn't gone over very well in cattle country and within a year, his entire flock had been demolished. Poor management had squelched his attempts to make a comeback with cattle and just plain neglect had made a shack out of the run down sod house that had come with the property. To make matters worse, it seemed as if he didn't actually own the land he'd bought at all. He had spent a fortune on a homestead just outside of town that was actually the back acreage of another man's ranch. As she arrived, the whole case was about to be heard by a judge traveling through the county.

The house, which he had described as cozy and charming and perfect for a young couple, was unlivable and after one night her maid had packed up and returned to Chicago; but as there was no money to pay her, Caroline didn't object. In fact, she desperately wished that she could also return, but there was simply nothing left of her husband's sizable inheritance; what he hadn't gambled away, he'd poured into whisky. When the traveling judge ruled that her husband actually owned less than twenty acres of their two hundred acre farm, she simply sat down on the outside staircase of the saloon and cried.

That was when she'd first come across the White Stranger, as he'd been called. She'd seen him attend the hearing, heard the local women whisper about him, but she never thought she'd be face to face with him and have him hand her his handkerchief. Having nowhere else to turn, she'd poured out her troubles to him and, to his credit, he listened politely. He didn't offer her advice, didn't criticize her husband, merely nodded in sympathy and let her cry herself out. At the end of her catharsis, he merely offered her his arm and a wagon ride home. Since her husband had been getting stone drunk inside the saloon, she'd accepted; much to the envy of many a lady.

Curtis Heart, it seemed, had his own troubles, although she knew little about them for many years. He was known throughout the county as the White Stranger simply because he rode a white horse and wore crisply starched white shirts that set him apart from the cowboys and ranchers. He was relatively new to Angel Grove, having arrived only a few years before she had, but kept very much to himself. He had the fast draw of a gunslinger, but a heart of gold, and he soon won the reputation of a loyal neighbor and the best person to call when you had a fight on your hands. His good deeds, eccentric behavior, and mysterious past were enough of the makings of a legend to the bored townsfolk and they delighted in propagating the stories of him long after Curtis was simply Hartland's owner; especially when Calamity Kim whirled through.

To Caroline though, he was her knight in shining armor. Although he kept the polite distance from her that a good nineteenth century gentleman should when dealing with another man's wife, he had become a good neighbor and true friend. He began by sending Miss Alicia out to stock the larder and teach her everything about being a simple housewife without servants; everything from milking, to churning butter, to how to cook and preserve meats.

The two set about scrubbing the little sod house from top to bottom and he was forever sending one of his men over to fix this or that. Things also had a way of showing up if he got wind she needed them. A new window just happened to appear one day by the barn, Alicia would bring with her bolts of "leftover" fabric for curtains and other necessities, and a new milk cow and goat just happened to wander into her front lawn one day and never be claimed by their neighbors. Even the pastureland that they had lost in the judge's ruling suddenly came up for lease at a phenomenally low price; considering how hard its real owner had fought to get it back.

Perhaps more important to her than anything else, he came to her rescue once again when her shipments of fine furnishings and wedding gifts finally arrived from Chicago via the freight wagons. She'd been devastated by her husband's refusal to pay the extra freight charges it had incurred; even though it was minor. The two shipments contained not only her fine clothes from the city, which were really entirely impractical in the township of Angel Grove, but her mother's bedroom set from Charleston, which had been her bedroom set a s a child. It was the only piece of her mother she had and it's loss because of a stupid quibble over a minor bill had been a bitter pill to swallow.

The whole shipment, to her mortification, went up for auction right in front of the whole town, but Curtis had managed to buy every single lot; bidding sometimes ridiculously high in the process. Although her husband had refused to let her take back any of it, Curtis had made it clear that he was only holding it for her and that she could come an claim what she liked at anytime. Most of it she had left with him, but a few things she kept and quietly squirreled away least her husband find and sell them.

It wasn't just her. Curtis did that sort of thing for everyone, but it made him more and more, in her eyes, like a storybook hero. No one had ever really given a damn about Caroline in her entire life, the little things he did by way of simply looking out for her endeared him to her far more than any silly legend. She had no illusions though; she was a married woman. In the late eighteen hundreds, that was that. She had made her bed and she would lie in it until she died; but she could still daydream.

Despite all this, death, occasionally, would have been very welcome to her. Although she managed to take in extra work as a seamstress and Doc Cranston paid her fairly well to aide him as a nurse and, a few years later, a midwife, life was very bitter and very hard. Her husband was considered pretty much the town drunk, and although she herself had proven herself worthy of Angel Grove's small society, it was a bitter loss of status from her days as a desirable and wealthy socialite. To the outside, she dressed well, kept her head high and proud, and attended church regularly. What people didn't see was how she worked herself to the bone, struggled to quietly thwart her husband's incompetence by managing their small farm herself, or how she endured her husband himself.

Francis had lost his cute and fluffiness by the time she traveled westward to find him. As a man, he was gaunt and wiry and had a tendency to get mean when he drank; which was pretty much all the time. For the most part, he left her alone and preferred the company at Ernest's Saloon or the local whorehouse, but his wife's competence in running a farm that he'd never been able to turn into a proper ranch embittered him. The bitterness became worse when he drank and he had a nasty tendency to take it out on her.

In spite of her proficiency as a manager, Caroline wasn't exactly, in his mind, the best wife. He made it very clear to her and to anyone else in town who would listen, that she was a complete failure as a woman because of her man-like determination to run things her own way and her female inability to have children. Unfortunately, this part wasn't exactly true. To her despair, getting pregnant was relatively easy; delivering a healthy child was not.

In the nearly eight years that she had toiled in Angel Grove, she had been pregnant six times. Her husband would stalk her for weeks and, like a good wife, she would clench her teeth and bare it until she could either sigh with relief that her monthly courses would prevent him from touching her or she could announce with any certainly that she might be pregnant again.

Of the six pregnancies, she'd had only had two miscarriages; one early on and one the result of a tumble out of the barn's loft which more than one in Angel Grove found suspicious given her husband's temper. Of the four times she'd managed to birth her children, two boys had been born overly small and had passed away within a few weeks of delivery, but in-between another girl and then boy had managed to live beyond their first year. It was crushing, but had become a sort of morbid reality to her otherwise rather tragic life.

Her daughter, Kelly Ann, who was named after her favorite brother in Chicago who had died the previous year, was a tiny thing, like she was. She was sweet as molasses with big bright amber eyes and thick dark brown curls and the pure joy of her mother's bitter existence. She was however, as her husband reminded her daily, only a girl. She had had such high hopes for her son, Francis Jr, who had been born a little more than two years after Kelly Ann. Francis, unlike his brothers and sister, had been born a robust and healthy ten pounder. He was by far the largest baby Doc ever claimed to deliver and, although the labor had nearly killed her, she'd been thrilled to finally birth a healthy infant. His father had also, she praised God, begun to leave her alone once he had a healthy son named after him.

But her sweet cherub faced, roly-poly little boy was not meant to grace her life for long and she wept bitterly as she dressed him for the last time in the Sunday outfit she and Miss Alicia had only recently shortened for him. The boy's troubles had begun shortly before his second birthday, with him begging her over and over for water and ended far too quickly with his bright red face crying that he was terribly thirsty. Doc Cranston had said it was too much sugar in his blood, but that was little consolation to her; he was gone and Caroline had one more tragedy to add to her ever growing list of sorrows.

Tears blinded her as she clipped a thick tangle of his beautiful brown curls, tying it with a little blue ribbon nipped from the eye-lace of the collar she had sewn for him not a month before. Sliding her fingers one last time over his fine high little forehead, she gulped back several large sobs, composed herself, then turned and allowed the farm hands to close his little wooden box; wishing for all the world it was her being laid to rest instead.

* * *

Tommy pulled irritably at the stiffly starched collar Kim had forced him to wear and praised the Great Power it was a cool, late fall day and not a hot summer one. The period dress he'd been forced into for the morning's ceremonies was a long way from his fabric softened cotton shirts and loafers back home. After only a few hours of endurance, he honestly didn't know how men had survived the so-called modern nineteenth century's idea of fashion. His feet hurt, his underwear itched, and the removable starched collar was just plain torture.

The smells of the nineteenth century were also a bit hard to take. It was like visiting a barn and not being able to get outside. Everything, even the people, smelled like horses and cows, sweat, old leather, and tobacco smoke. Dust covered everything and he grimaced at the flies buzzing around the dishes left by the women on the long tables being set up outside the Carson farmhouse. The food would be consumed by the mourners after the funeral of the baby and his stomach churned at the idea of the lack of refrigeration. The whole experience, combined with the disorienting after effects of the equalization process the night before and a heavy breakfast that sat miserably in his stomach, had made him more than a little grouchy and his foul mood was becoming more and more evident.

Farmhouse was really not the right word to describe the Carson's home. The little sod house looked like it had been made out of dried mud and sticks; only the one large glass window and solid wood front door belied its status as an actual residence. Still, the front gated enclosure was neat and tidy and the grounds and animals showed evidence of being well maintained. The little front yard though was simply too tiny to accommodate the crowd that had gathered to walk the casket to the cemetery outside of town and there was no place to sit and very few places to even stand that didn't leave one in close proximity to cows or pigs or piles of manure from the many tethered horses.

Increasing the disagreeableness of his mood was the fact that he was also very much aware of the surreptitious glances and chatter his and Kim's appearance had generated. If the women of Angel Grove thought they were being discrete, they were sadly mistaken. They were clustered in several tight gossiping groups and would take turns looking around to steal glances at the small trio standing off to one side, often with their gloved hands raised to cover their mouth and nose; their eyes peeking like children from beneath the brims of their bonnets and hats.

Kim, for her part, ignored the prattle; either she was used to it or simply didn't care. She stood quietly and patiently next to him, back straight and gloved hand softly tucked at his elbow. She surveyed the scene serenely beneath the brim of her small hat and looked as if she either didn't have a care in the world or didn't even realize how out of place the two were. Curtis however, seemed to be too busy struggling with his grief to notice the clucking females in the yard; although why he would be so upset over a neighbor's baby, Tommy wasn't sure yet.

After what seemed like years of standing in the sun by themselves, a few men began to approach Curtis; heads nodding and thumbs politely nudging their hats in Kim's direction. All of them were obviously curious that Kim was back in town and more than one set of eyes widened when they got a closer look at Tommy's face and Curtis introduced him blandly not only as his brother, but Kimberly's husband. As the men migrated back through the yard to inform their women of the new events, the noise became exponentially louder and more and more heads turned to openly stare at the trio.

Eventually, Curtis broke his silence by grunting in disgust and giving Kim an overly irritated look, but she ignored him and simply shrugged; focusing on the bright blue of the sky and the trees waving their branches gently in the breeze. Mercifully, the pole bearers appeared about that time, placing the little casket gently in a small, pony driven cart, and the townsfolk remembered the reason of their gathering. The chatter fell silent and the weeping of the women began in earnest as they fell in line, one by one, behind a heavily grieving Caroline.

Tommy's eyes watched the woman carefully as she past numbly by them; seemingly unaware of anything but the little cart she was following. He knew he shouldn't stare at her, but he also knew she was Kim's ancestor and his curiosity honestly got the better of him.

Like Alicia, who he spied waiting patiently in the back of the crowd to take her place in line, Caroline was tiny. She had to have been at least five or six inches shorter than his wife, who he frankly regarded as one of the smallest women he knew; although he'd never tell her that to her face. If Kimberly was all of the five feet two inches that she claimed to be, he had to supposed Caroline was no larger than four foot seven or eight, but as his eyes slid across the rest of the women, he realized that most of them weren't much larger. Taking an even closer look, he realized that none of the men were all that large either.

Tommy was what he considered to be decently tall for a man of the twenty-first century. He was taller than a few, about eye level with most, and shorter than some. In Angel Grove's past however, he suddenly realized that he and Curtis were both a good six to eight inches taller than most of the men passing them. They were also both broader in the shoulders and Tommy far more muscular.

"I love this time zone." Kim murmured softly, breaking into his thoughts.

"Why's that?" He answered, looking down at her.

"Because here I'm actually considered a fairly tall woman." She responded, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Taken aback, he stood up a little straighter and regarded her curiously. "Reading my mind?" He asked.

"Watching you." She responded, turning her gaze back to the procession. "Seeing if you have the same reactions to all this that I did. Watching how you process the information you take in."

Tommy repressed the urge to grin at his wife. She seemed to him to have slid so comfortably into the role of a Victorian woman; as if it were easy or came naturally to her. The way she dressed, her mannerisms, the way she held herself, seemed to blend so seamlessly into their surroundings that he hadn't considered she might have had to struggle with the differences like he was. He began to tell her so, but was distracted by a little figure approaching them.

A petite little girl, no more than four or five came right up to him, large amber eyes regarding him so openly and innocently from beneath a huge blue bonnet that he found his heart melting instantly. The girl stared at him for a moment, as if she were confused, then turned and gave her full attention to Curtis.

"What's the matter baby girl?" Curtis asked, removing his hat and squatting down to meet the child at her level.

"Ma forgot to take my hand." The girl answered plainly. The small pout of her little mouth silently gave away that she was incredibly hurt by that fact, yet she seemed determined to hide that it bothered her. She stood as straight and tall as she could in her pink Sunday church dress and refused to let her thumb reach up to her mouth as it longed to do.

"She didn't forget sweetmeat." Curtis answered gently, tweaking the girl's chin gently with his finger and thumb. "She just knows that you're a big girl and you can find her on your own if you need to hold her hand."

"I don't need to hold her hand." The child responded practically. "Ma's the one who needs her hand held."

Curtis smiled so sadly at the girl that Tommy once again wondered at his relationship to the family. He reached out ran gentle fingers over one of her braids, tugging it gently just above its pink ribbon before reaching out and taking the girl's hand in his. "I suppose that's true." He answered her softly, eyes misting a little. "But for right now, how's about you just hang on to mine for a while?" He asked softly, then stood back up and swallowed hard a few times.

He couldn't blame Caroline for forgetting the girl as the casket left the house. He knew how much she loved her and he also knew how hard she'd be grieving over the little boy. It was the least he could do to take charge make sure the girl wasn't too far away when her mother eventually turned around for her. Besides, he might not be able to hold the mother's hand, but no one could fault him for holding her daughter's.

The child didn't hesitate to fall into the long procession with them, small shoulders seeming to relax in their company and little feet falling easily into the slow walking rhythm of the adults as the dust from the road billowed up around them.

"Why can't Frankie go to Heaven at our house?" She asked after a few minutes, kicking a rock that crossed their path and then looking earnestly back up at Curtis. "How come we got to go into town first and leave him there?"

Tommy stole a glance at Kim, who turned and gave him the pained look of an adult caught off guard by a child's bluntness. She then allowed her eyes to migrate to the sky above, relieved she didn't have to be the one to answer. He then stole a look at Curtis, who seemed more than a little uncomfortable, but very determined to be respectful to the question and give the girl a serious and thoughtful answer.

"Well Miss Kelly Ann," He began slowly. "The truth is that I'm not so sure I rightly know the answer to that question." He said honestly, looking down at her upturned face and meeting her eyes. "All I can say is that that's just the way it's done."

The little girl regarded him seriously for a moment, then turned her attention back to the road and the long line of townsfolk walking slowly behind the little cart carrying her brother. "That's the same thing Miz Alicia said." She muttered disappointedly with a large sigh. "Still don't make much sense to me."

* * *

Walking out into the front yard, where a few neighbors and town folk had gathered, was a blur for Caroline and later that day she wasn't even sure she completely remembered it. Her eyes were so swollen from tears that she barely noticed the size of the crowd. It was a testament to her, to how well people thought of her and how much grief they shared at her loss, but she absorbed none of it. Her little boy was in a box and would soon be buried with his brothers under a small tree in a little cemetery outside of town with only a little wooden marker to remember him. It had happened too fast, she hadn't seen it coming, or perhaps she had simply denied it was coming. He'd been such a big boy.

She did register that Curtis was there, just as he always was, watching her follow the little wooden box, but what she didn't see was the pain and longing he could hardly conceal from anyone else. She moved past him numbly; eyes on the cart taking her son away. She wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms and have him hold her until the pain of little Frank's death melted a little, but instead, he took her daughter's hand and followed quietly behind the small crowd and she was grateful for that at least.

Cutis felt immensely guilty as he fell in line and trudged along with the rest of the procession. William had just approached him not two days before, asking if there was anything he could find in the Command Center that would fix the poor boy; there was no cure in the outside world for Juvenile Diabetes. Zordon had promised to consider intervening and allowing him to bring the boy in for treatment, but the anomaly had distracted them. No one, not even William had thought the boy would die as suddenly as he did. Doc had said they had time, that the disease would progress slowly, but it hadn't. Curtis had been as stunned as everyone else and he felt hugely responsible. The cure for the boy had been available to him, but he hadn't moved quickly enough.

Caroline was the one woman he couldn't bear to see in pain. He'd witnessed the funerals now of three of her children; stoically standing near the back as a good neighbor should, far removed from the place he desperately wanted to be. He didn't know exactly what is was about her, but she had besotted him like no other woman could; and many had tried. From the moment she'd ridden into town, he'd wanted to know who she was and where she'd come from.

Finding out that she was Francis Carson's wife had been a crushing blow. For nearly seven years, he'd watched her hold her head up high, seen her make the most of a tragic life, watched her carve a meager living out of nothing; keeping food on the table for her children and managing what her husband couldn't or simply wouldn't. He'd held his tongue and clamped his jaw shut each time her husband would screw it up and then quietly made it right again where he could.

Each time word came that she was expecting again was like a stab straight through his chest and into his heart and each time word came that she'd lost another baby was like a devastating blow to his soul. He loved each of her children like his very own, as much as he loved his own, and it pained him to leave them to the mercies of a man he didn't consider worthy enough to die face down in a gutter; possibly the one man he might actually leave face down in a gutter.

He knew how her husband treated them. He owned a good sized share in Earnest's Saloon and didn't think Francis was any different at home. He'd seen and heard about enough bruises on Caroline to know he was right and the knowledge that he'd probably be after her again now that the boy was gone was enough to make him want to leave the small group and beat the life out of her husband's drunken ass. But there was nothing he could do. Caroline was another man's wife and nothing was going to change that. All he could do was stand in the back of the small assembly, hold her daughter's sweet little hand, and offer assistance where he could; keeping his longings strictly to himself.

Upon reaching the small little cemetery, Caroline wasn't the only one in the assembly of mourners surprised to see her husband waiting for them. He hadn't been home when the baby had passed and she wasn't even certain he even knew, but Angel Grove was a small community.

He watched stoically off to one side as little Francis Junior was laid to rest with as much ceremony as the pastor could muster, but it was for the mother that he gave his best; not the father. The small grave had already been dug next to his two brothers, who both bore the same name, and as the tiny casket was lowered, the resolve keeping Caroline upright melted. She threw herself against the ground, crying out in agony.

It was Doc Cranston and the pastor that reached out to lift her up, not her husband, and although Curtis longed to rush to her side, all he could do was pick her daughter up hug her against his shoulder as the scene unfolded. Francis, he noted sourly, gave her nothing more than a disgusted snort and any hope that somehow he had come to the little graveyard out of any feeling for her or his son was quickly dashed when he commented bitterly that it was a shame to have to pay for three different graves when all three boys had had the exact same name.

"You're not wanted here." Caroline shocked everyone present by stating bitterly. As one, the crowd, who had been murmuring indignantly against Francis's words, silenced. In the years they had known her, no one had ever heard her say a cross word to or against him and even though many felt in agreement, most were shocked that she would say it publically.

"He was my son woman." Francis spat back resentfully.

In response, she gave a slightly hysterical bark that was half laugh, half sob and began to shake so violently with grief that she collapsed again on top of the tiny mound of dirt lining the hole, shocking everyone with a wailing cry that didn't last long, but was completely out of character for her. Despite himself, Curtis, still holding her daughter, stepped forward and cautiously offered a hand on her back in sympathy and slowly, a steady stream of women also moved forward to surround her and encourage her to leave the tiny grave.

"Congratulations Caroline." Francis spat to her turned back as the female assemblage pulled her to her feet and urged her away. "You just managed to screw up the one thing you ever managed to get right."

The life seemed to melt out of Caroline in that moment. She gave a muffled sob, as if trying valiantly to not acknowledge the barb, then collapsed to the ground in a dead feint. Curtis was quicker than the others to realize what was happening. He swiftly handed Kelly Ann to Doc Cranston and scooped Caroline up, carrying her like a rag doll out of the cemetery and down the road which lead into town and Doc's small office and hospital.

* * *

Tommy, unfortunately, had been to his fair share of funerals, but he'd never been to one for a child before. Despite his resolve to maintain an aloof distance to the assembly and remind himself that he didn't know any of the people involved, he couldn't help but be moved by the pastor's sermon and the mother's grief afterward.

Finding his throat tightening and his eyes misting, he turned his attention instead to the people around him. The person greeted by several as Doc Cranston wasn't anything like he expected anymore than anyone else was and he chided himself for even being surprised by it.

Like the others, he was short and older than he'd expected, but what shocked Tommy was his general physic. He was fat. Very, very fat, with a pronounced triple chin framed by huge graying mutton chop side burns and a mammoth handlebar mustache that were in stark contrast to his nearly bald head. His cheeks were flushed bright red and he kind of looked like a large round apple propped up on little toothpick sized legs. Two tiny blue eyes peeked out from beneath oversized, bushy eyebrows and to his consternation, Tommy found himself staring.

He'd never known a Ranger to be obese; maybe before they began Rangering, but never afterward. Even the retired ones still maintained some sort of obsession with physical fitness. He supposed it boiled down to the habit of needing to move fast, stay strong, and be ready to answer the call if needed again; or perhaps it was simply that Rangering increased the metabolism.

The man standing in the front of the assembly wobbled on his little legs and puffed for air simply walking from the little grave to the cemetery's gate. When Curtis handed him Caroline's daughter, he didn't hold her, but lowered her safely to the ground and held on to her hand. It didn't make sense. There was no way he would have ever pictured the man as a Ranger and he certainly would never have pegged him for Billy's ancestor.

As he watched Curtis carry Caroline out of the cemetery and down the road, his eyes followed Doc's slow progress with Kelly Ann. A few of the mourners slowed their pace and followed politely behind, but most gave up and quickly slipped past them. So intent was he on wondering if the poor man would even make it to his black buggy outside the gate, that he physically jumped when his wife gave a surprised squeal. Snapping around and instantly on alert, he was stunned to see her giggling.

"William Cranston!" She chided, slapping a tall young boy across the chest. "Don't you dare sneak up on me like that!" She fumed. He eyes, however, told him she was amused and very happy to see the overly tall and lanky boy. "You've gotten as bad as old Abraham." She reprimanded in a mock disgusted tone.

Tommy blinked hard at the name she'd called him. He'd been positive that Doc Cranston would have been the William from Kim's stories of the past, but there before him, laughing with his wife as the last of the mourners left them in the cemetery, was a candidate far more suited to his idea of Billy's ancestry and that of a Ranger in general.

What struck him first was that the boy was young; no more than twenty at the most. Frowning, he realized he must have been either very boyish looking or no older than nine or ten when Kim first organized the Western team a decade before.

William was long limbed and gangly, with bright blue eyes and a bushy shock of yellow hair that spilled out around the string vainly attempting to hold it back at the nape of his neck. Looking closer, he could easily see echoes of Billy both in the clearness of his blue eyes and the way he shuffled and shrugged at Kim's teasing, but he reminded Tommy far more of his student Conner in Reefside than any future super genius he might know.

"I am merely the apple who falls from my master's tree." William answered with mock seriousness, eyes twinkling with a mischief Tommy could read all too well as spelling trouble. He balled his fist and snapped it against his upright other hand, bowing sharply.

"Stop!" Kim hissed reproachfully, stepping forward quickly and hiding the boys hands with her own. "Not here." She said firmly, eyes serious and demanding he pay attention to her.

"I'm only…"

"You are not paying me respect." Kim added firmly, cutting him off. "You're ignoring a direct order to keep the team and everything Abraham agreed to teach you a secret from this community. Honestly Will, I know the ceremony's over and everyone's left, but you never know who's watching."

The boy at least had the decency to look ashamed and hang his head a little, but too many years of dealing with teenagers told Tommy the boy wasn't anywhere near as chastised as he was pretending to be.

"Come meet my husband." Kim said, voice softening and eyes twinkling again.

"Husband?" William asked, head snapping up and eyes wide; grin and good spirits instantly back in place again. It wasn't uncommon for Miss Kimmee to arrive in the company of someone else, but a husband? "Well I'll be." He said, extending his hand out and shaking Tommy's firmly before she'd even had a chance to introduce them. "Miss Kimmee married." He marveled, still shaking Tommy's hand enthusiastically over and over. "Well I'll be."

"William, this is my husband Tommy." Kim said patiently, obviously well versed in the boy's eagerness and calmly tolerating it.

"Tommy?" William asked, still shaking his hand eagerly up and down, "The same Tommy as in all your stories?" He asked, bright blue eyes opening impossibly wider. "Well I'll be…" He repeated. "You're sure smaller than I thought you'd be."

"And you're much younger than I thought you'd be." Tommy replied evenly, mentally trying to weigh the boy's height and build against his enthusiasm and manner; he seriously doubted the kid was over nineteen or twenty. "Can I have my hand back now?"

"Oh…shoot…" William gushed in embarrassment, halting the animated shaking and dropping Tommy's hand. "It's just…oh shoot…." He said, giggling a little and causing Tommy to raise a questioning eyebrow at Kim. "It's just that Miss Kimmee's told me so many stories about you and her friends. When I think of all the times I sat by the fire and listened….oh shoot…" He finished with a self conscious shrug, foot kicking the dirt and cheeks and ears glowing pink.

"What kind of stories?" Tommy asked cautiously, turning to Kim with a questioning look.

"Fireside adventure stories." She replied patiently, giving him a tolerant look that caused his stomach to sink a little.

"I can only imagine." He groaned, thinking of Kim's propensity to embellish.

"I just can't believe you grew up and married your Tommy." William chuckled amiably. "If that don't beat all…"

"We're introducing him as Curtis's brother." Kim commented, gauging the boy's reaction.

He stopped and looked at her second, then scanned Tommy top to bottom. "Can't imagine why." He laughed amiably in a sarcastic tone. "Though with that cropped hair and scowly face, I don't think he looks near as much like Curtis as you led me to believe."

"Trust me," She replied in an amiable tone. "Once upon a time he had hair even longer and fluffier than Curtis ever dreamed of letting his get."

"I like you're once upon a time stories." William added with a mischievous grin and Tommy rolled his eyes morbidly.

Scowly face? He wondered to himself. The three of them had begun walking towards the cemetery entrance and Tommy stopped as he opened the gate and gave Kim a pained look. She met his eyes evenly and returned a playful twinkle, reaching up to pat his cheek in an unrepentant gesture with her gloved hand as she walked past.

She knew exactly what he was thinking, but he hadn't been involved in that part of Angel Grove's history and she had. William had needed stories of a young hero to deal with his own insecurities over the responsibility handed him. Ranger kids were not exactly unheard of, and, when you really thought about it from an adult perspective, the difference between ten and fourteen seemed to get smaller and smaller as you got older, but he had been painfully young to have stumbled into his powers the way he had. He had needed her stories to know that he wasn't the only young Ranger ever to be self-doubting and have to struggle over their insecurities. The stories she had told of Tommy and his enchanted sword Saba may have been slightly embellished, but the young William had eaten them up and gained a confidence from them they hadn't had time to let develop naturally.

As the three turned and followed the small parade of mourners down towards the edge of town to Doc's office, and William chattered on and on about the happenings in the months since Kim's last appearance, Tommy regarded the boy with a temperate exasperation he usually reserved for his students when they were prone to being overly boisterous. Kim however, squeezed his arm and smiled softly at him when he turned to her; diffusing any real annoyance he might harbor. She obviously liked the boy very much and that was enough for him to reserve his judgment of him for the moment. He almost said something to that effect as William loped ahead of them to eagerly greet a barking dog, but before he could, Kim turned suddenly and shielded her face against his shoulder, bringing the brim of her hat down low.

He began to ask what she was doing when a cold chill hit him that at first stunned him and then slowly crept up his spine and into his neck. He couldn't really describe the feeling afterward it except to think at the time that it was a little like walking down the hallways of Rita's dungeons when he'd been an evil green Ranger; a generally wicked sense of malevolent foreboding combined with an innate alertness to be on guard for trouble. The icy feeling passed nearly as soon as it hit him and he realized, as he'd paused to analyze the strange feeling, that Kim had quietly stepped away from him and was now idly inspecting the hitching post near the barn opening of the community stables.

He began to move toward her, but suddenly William was beside him, urging him in a very serious manner in the opposite direction. The change in the boy's demeanor was so drastic, it took him a few seconds to realize it was the same person and he paused again in confusion.

"The disorientation from Murdock's ray will pass." William whispered hoarsely, grabbing his arm firmly and pushing him toward the coral opposite from where his wife was wandering. "Just keep moving and get out of his line of sight. It's not you he's after." He added, grip tightening. Then in a louder voice, he added in a more buoyant tone much more like the imp who had followed them from the cemetery, "Of course you can trust old Alfred to set you up with a good horse. He's got the best to be had in four counties and with your brother to vouch for you, you'll be saddled up again in no time."

Tommy stopped dead in his tracks and gave the boy a hard, challenging look, but to his surprise, the eyes that met his didn't look nearly as immature and boyish as they had a few minutes before. He recognized the look well, it was that of one experienced Ranger to another; one that asked him silently to wait and ask his questions later.

As they stopped and stood by the rail of the coral, a small group of a half dozen men rode slowly on horseback past the pedestrian traffic coming and going in and out of town and directly toward the entrance to the barn where Kim had headed and turned inside. William's eyes watched them as carefully as Tommy's, taking in every aspect of their dress, mannerisms, horses, and gun power. They wore heavy long coats and wide brimmed hats, but by the way they dismounted and moved toward the entrance, it was obvious they were well armed meant trouble.

To Tommy's surprise, William cursed softly and when he turned to the boy, there was no mistaking the look of an experienced Ranger expecting danger. He held himself loose and ready, but the muscles of young his neck were chorded and shoulders tense; eyes riveted to the group of men.

"Who are they?" Tommy asked quietly, both of them feigning disinterest and pretending to look over the penned horses while keeping the men squarely in sight.

"Don't know the albino or the short one." William commented softly, "But the other four…their Nester's old goons."

"An Nester would be?" Tommy asked, and William looked up as if surprised he didn't know.

"Trouble." He responded, eyes worried and scanning as far as he could around the backside of the barn in hope of confirming Kim had made it back out the other side and into the coral itself. It wasn't that he was worried about her fighting skills, but she'd be seriously hindered against them while still wearing her skirt and he didn't have his morphing coin on him or a way to alert Curtis. He turned back to face Tommy, hoping he was all the Ranger Kim had made him out to be. "The Rangering kind of trouble we thought we were done with more than five years ago." He added seriously.


	5. Chapter 5: Western Rangers Ride Again

HARTLAND

By: KSuzie

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney, everything else belongs to me._

* * *

Chapter 5: The Western Rangers Ride Again

* * *

Tommy's heart thudded in his chest as he and William watched four of the six men enter the barn opening. "Which one's Murdock?" He asked in a low voice.

"Black bandanna, black shaggy hair…it hides the fact he's not really human." William murmured, eyes also rooted to the barn and coral for any sign of Kim or a disturbance.

Tommy nodded as the man in question swaggered through the barn entrance. He was about his height, but much broader and moved with a confidence Tommy knew well; not the absurd audaciousness of a bumbling villain, but the strut of an intelligent criminal who thought he'd cornered his longtime adversary unaware.

"Why do I get the feeling he's not your run of the mill alien goon after conquering the city for the sake of conquering the city?" He murmured, glancing out over the coral to see if Kim had emerged out the other side.

"He's not." The boy answered, turning to face Tommy with worried eyes. "Murdock escaped from the cavern he'd been sealed in about seven years ago when Mrs. Carson's husband accidentally removed a tree stump from his back acreage and cracked the force field keeping him in. Miss Kimmee says he's impossibly old and his whole mission in life is to serve Nester and find something for him called Ivan's egg which will exterminate all humanity."

"Ivan's egg?" Tommy asked, frowning.

"Yeah." William responded, nodding. "Miss Kimmee says we don't ever want him to find Ivan's egg. She said she's been down that road too many times as it is and just can't do it again."

"Ivan Ooze?" Tommy asked incredulously, giving the boy a look somewhere in-between amazement and repulsion.

"Miss Kimmee says Ivan's egg has something called primordial ooze, if that's what you mean." William retuned, glancing at him speculatively. "Other than that, she just said we had to get Nester and Murdock sealed up again before they could find the egg. It took us a good two years of keeping them out of Angel Grove, and it wasn't easy, let me tell you. Every time we turned around there was another ancient animal demon to fight, and Zordon was afraid we were headed for a whole 'nother beast war, but then we destroyed Nester's fortress and both of 'em just up and disappeared; we all thought Murdock was dead for sure."

Tommy nodded, his frown deepening at the boy's words. "Kim was here the whole time you were fighting?"

"Sure enough. She said she didn't dare leave as long as there was any chance Ivan's egg would be found. Funny thing is, I think she and old True of Heart knew exactly where the dang thing was the whole time."

"What's his power?" Tommy asked seriously.

"He's a werewolf." William answered without blinking. "Half man, half wolf, all demon. The rays from his eyes 'll freeze a man dead in his tracks; a Ranger too." The boy warned, catching the older man's eyes and holding them seriously. "You usually can't see him until he's right on top of you and he's faster than the zords…I ain't josh'n you Tommy, he'll out run 'em, but he can't keep the pace up long. You gotta watch him close or he'll slash you good. We know how to treat his scratches now, but it's not easy."

Tommy nodded as the boy spoke, thinking of his student Connor and his power of speed. Connor could move faster than a man could blink, but he couldn't keep it up over long distances or for long periods of time. "He has a power source? A crystal or a coin?" He asked and the boy nodded.

"Totem. We tried for two years to destroy it, but never could."

"And the others?"

"Don't know the albino or the other one." William answered, glancing at the two that had remained behind with the horses, but the other three are Sirus, Bent, and Boulder; those last two are twins you can't ever tell apart. They're not particularly hard to fight if you're morphed, but without the morphers…."

He stopped, his head snapping in the direction of the coral as the small heard of horses pinned there screamed and began to run in one direction and then the other, some jumping the high fence altogether and running in terror down the main road into town.

"Deed-n-Double…" William swore and surprised Tommy by leaping to the top bar of the fence and then over it; jumping into the fray. "Wipories!" The boy yelled as if that were an explanation. "Get outta here Tommy! Go find Curtis and the others!"

Tommy blinked at the boy as much from confusion as from the dust the panicked horses had stirred up, then spied nearly two dozen gray, worm-like forms slither under the bottom rail of the fence. As he watched, the forms remolded themselves into shapes that were not too unlike the original putties, but they had a shiny, metallic scaled sort of body that moved with much more fluidity than the putties had. As they slithered and flowed across the coral, they sort of hummed and crackled with a sound somewhere in-between the buzzing of a swarm of bees and a swarm of locust. He watched for a few more seconds as the boy grabbed a blanket and a bridle hanging on a nearby post then attacked the odd creatures with the confidence and skill of any Ranger going after a well known foe, then slid between the rails and interjected himself into the fight.

Wipories, as William had called them, were not putties and they were not multiple swarms of insects. They were scaled, dragon like creatures, who could reform themselves to fight on two legs or four. They were mean fighters with long, black, claw-like fingers that protruded from the stumps of their four legs which easily sliced through fabric and skin, leaving a burning, whip-like mark that continued to sting and eventually numb the affected area into uselessness. Tommy didn't exactly feel out of his element as he edged over, back to back with William, but he never liked entering a fight with a creature he didn't know much about.

"What are you doing?" William yelled over the noise of the horses and Wipories, "I told you to go get Curtis!"

"I'm not the one you send to go find the others." Tommy growled, sliding easily into a fighting stance as the gray things circled around them for attack. "I'm the one you send in to finish the fight."

* * *

Caroline allowed Curtis to carry her into town and to doc's small infirmary, keeping her eyes closed despite the fact she knew he was well aware she'd regained consciousness almost immediately. Fainting was silly and she silently reprimanded herself for it. She was a grown woman who'd been taking care of herself and her children for years; grown women didn't faint like impractical little girls.

The last twenty-four hours, however, had been horrendous and if Curtis, the only man in her entire life who had ever shown her any kind of warmth and kindness, was willing to carry her all the way to Doc's infirmary, well then she was willing to feign sleep and allow herself to be carried. Besides, she knew all too well that in a few minutes she'd be deposited into one of Doc's invalid beds and Curtis would once again retreat in the shadows.

That's what he did. He rushed in and saved the day, slipping away quietly afterward least he intrude or give anyone a chance to give him credit for the deed; although everyone already knew he was the one to do it.

She reveled in the warm embrace of his arms, her body held close to his, but she had no illusions. Despite her daydreams, life had handed her a barely tolerable existence she'd never be released from. She was virtually broke, had a husband who she despised, and had no one in life who gave a damn about her or who would bail her out. Until the previous morning, she'd had two children who made life worthwhile, but now that little ray of sunshine had disappeared too. Deep inside the despair that consumed her, she knew she still had reasons to keep going. Her surviving child needed her and she had a farm to run. It was an existence she would continue to endure for her daughter's sake; if not her own. She would allow herself to grieve now, but she knew full well that the indifferent and oblivious sun would continue to rise again, despite any protest she might make against it, and shed its bright light on the reality that there were chores to do, mouths to feed, and bills to pay; life would go on.

For now though, she was content to turn her mind from reality and absorb every moment of the strong arms that held her. For a few minutes at least, she could allow herself to pretend that life was different and there was a man who cared whether she and her children lived or died. It was a fabrication she was content to dwell in even though she knew the truth; her secret hero had never looked twice at her as anything but his married neighbor who struggled just a tip toe away from the poverty line. She assured herself it made no difference. He had his own life to live, his own troubles to tend to, and daydreams never quite lived up to reality anyway, but she could still indulge her bleeding heart and pretend for just a few precious moments that he was hers and that he actually cared.

She frowned as the bright light of the outside dimmed and she heard the distinct sound of his boots crossing Doc's wooden floor. A few seconds later he lowered her and, as she felt her head touch the soft feather pillow, she burst into tears again, knowing the daydream was at an end, and rolled over away from him. It didn't matter, she told herself silently, everyone left her eventually. Her more rational side chided against the outburst, but the bigger part of her didn't want to listen.

Her son was dead, her life misery, no one cared if she lived or died or hurt, and no one ever would. She wallowed in that last thought, allowing it to take control as she wailed, pounding her fists against the small bed and kicking away the sheets and quilts Alicia was trying to cover her with.

"You can leave now Curtis." Doc drawled as he took several bottles from a side cabinet and then locked its doors with a small silver key. Moving over to a table, he began to measure out several different samples.

Curtis stepped back a little, but hesitated, unsure he was willing to go. He knew Caroline hadn't completely fainted, but had calmly allowed herself to be carried back to Doc's infirmary. She'd been quiet as a mouse and completely content until he'd deposited her in the small sick room and her outburst surprised him.

She wasn't a woman prone to fits. Instead, she was steady as a rock and one of the most capable females he knew. He allowed himself to half consider that it might have been his presence that was keeping her calm, which was rather a nice thought, but dismissed it immediately with the embarrassment of knowing that the thought was inappropriate. He couldn't allow his mind to wander there and very firmly clamped down refused to consider it; yet still his body hesitated. He wanted to pick her up again, rock her like he'd rocked her daughter all through the funeral. Hug her and…

"Curtis." Alicia snapped, still struggling with the hysterical woman on the bed, "Doc said you can go, we've got work to do."

Curtis nodded numbly and reluctantly backed out of the room. At the sound of a small chiming pocket watch though, his eyes snapped up from Caroline's thrashing and met Alicia's firmly. Both looked sharply back at Doc Cranston who merely nodded tolerantly, as if he'd been inconvenienced this way many times before. Shooing them away with both hands he said with exasperation, "Go on you two, Calamity Kim apparently needs you more than I do."

* * *

It took Tommy about thirty seconds to decide he didn't Wipories. Creatures that formed and re-formed were not his favorites and right up there in his book with self replicating monsters. They weren't particularly fast and they weren't particularly tough to fight, but the buzzing sound they made was like nails on a chalkboard after a while and they were slippery.

To his credit, William called out tip after tip for fighting the ninja like dragon slugs, but usually only after Tommy had already discovered what he was doing wasn't working. If he thought he was frustrated with the young Ranger before, he was doubly so after a few minutes of getting sliced and stung by the Wipories' claw-like fingers. Just about the time he was really about to lose his patience altogether, his eyes caught a pink flash and he realized that Kim had morphed and joined the fight; having far more success by herself than both he and William combined.

As Kim tore through the coral and Wipories flew everywhere, he grabbed the boy with more force than really necessary, and pulled him off to the side, out of the fray. When he protested, Tommy simply pointed to where a red and yellow streak flew over the barn and revealed a yellow and red Ranger landing to join the fight. The boy seemed to take a second to register what was happening, and Tommy smirked slightly as the realization dawned on the him that he was the only one of his former teammates that didn't have his morpher, but then another red streak flew through the sky and drew his attention back to the fight.

His eyes quickly scanned the coral, finding Kim first and realizing she was back in her pink Mighty Morphin uniform. The sight brought a smile to his face and a wash of pleasant old memories flowed over him; causing his shoulders and face to soften a little and a slight grin to wistfully tug at his lips.

The uniform was almost exactly identical to the one she'd worn in high school, with its white diamonds across the chest in stark contrast to the bright pink, but the white gloves and boots were markedly different. The gloves sported long western style fringe or tassels and the boots were also an old fashioned tooled look. Scanning the scene, he realized the changes carried over to the red and yellow Mighty Morphins fighting on the scene as well.

It was the second red in the coral that had originally caught his attention though and it was the second red that he diverted his attention to now. It was a typical red uniform for a Ranger, but not one he'd ever seen before. It looked very similar to the black, gold, and red uniform from the ninja storm team, but the gold crest in the center was not that of Shane's wind shield, but a gold falcon and the helmet was startlingly reminiscent of the Turbo helmet he and TJ had worn, minus the two small round head lamps.

His eyes continued to note a few other minor differences as the scuffle continued, but when a large mutant combination between some kind of nineteenth century farm machine and a grizzly bear broke through the fence, he stopped his musings and pulled the boy back through an opening in the fence and further from the fray. Neither of them had morphers and while he was comfortable with a little hand to hand combat against the ninja slugs, monsters were probably best left to the morphed Rangers.

"Of all times not to have my coin." The boy fretted, shifting from foot to foot and rubbing his hands on his pants as much in worry as to remove the blood trickling from his knuckles. "What happens if it grows? The zords are all locked down in storage."

Tommy noticed the blood streaks the boy was leaving and glanced at his own hands, noticing a few split knuckles, but nothing he'd bother with. Of more concern to him was that his right leg was quickly going to sleep and his foot would soon be too numb to walk with. Glancing down at his trousers, he spied a small, thin slash and marveled that something so minor an insignificant looking could do so much damage so quickly.

"In my experience, zords have a tendency to come when they're needed." He murmured in an unconcerned voice, eyes still analyzing the fight.

He didn't miss that the four Rangers worked well together despite radically different fighting styles. The Wipories had dissolved into some sort of liquid ooze as they were taken out and the monster didn't seem particularly difficult for them; it was what Murdock and his goons were setting up that had him concerned. "What do you think those four are up to?" He asked, getting William's attention by nudging him and gesturing back toward the barn.

"Oh Lord…" He murmured. "They're setting up Miss Kimmee's bubble machine."

"Bubble machine?"

"It's a kind of cannon." William explained hurriedly. "My father and I made it with Alpha's help. We thought it was destroyed when Nester's fortress blew up."

"What does it do?" Tommy asked, following as the boy began to move closer to the barn and glancing around to see if anyone noticed what they were doing.

"It'll transport the Rangers into a containment cell like Nester and Murdock were sealed in…that is, if he's rebuilt it right….otherwise it just might simply blow them up."

As the two edged closer to the barn, they slowed down to creep cautiously toward the cannon. The two twins, Bent and Boulder looked like your typical bad-guy overly muscular goons with about as much sense as turnips. They were jostling the heavy cannon roughly into position while Murdock hissed at them to be careful; uttering expletives and curses with every other word.

"We can't let them get in a position to fire." William murmured worriedly.

"What do you have in mind?" Tommy asked, rubbing his numbing leg firmly in a vain effort to restore feeling into it.

William turned and regarded the man cautiously. "Just how brave are you?" He asked tentatively.

"Try me." Tommy responded with a look in-between irony and annoyance.

* * *

Netau watched the escalation of the battle in front of him with irritation. He had no interest in Murdock's feud with Calamity Kim, although, if the wolf demon was right and Zordon's Western pink Ranger knew the location of Ivan Ooze, it was possibly worth the effort to stop and attempt to restrain her. He was reluctant to draw Zordon's attention, especially in Murdock's company, but if there was even a slight chance that he was right, finding Ivan's burial site might solve more than one problem for him. The concept was simply far too enticing to ignore…and he was already in the time zone.

So he watched somewhat less than patiently as Zordon's Rangers easily trounced a monster Murdock barely had the power to summon and couldn't possibly make grow to full potential. The cycle was boring at best. The Rangers faced off against Murdock and his bumbling buffoons, Murdock summoned an army of mindless fighters to tire them out, the monster arrived to heighten the battle… it was the same cycle played out in countless time zones and across countless alternate dimensions. The only object that made it even mildly remarkable was the Western pink.

Calamity Kim was the one anomaly of Zordon's western nineteenth century history that no one could quite pin down. She appeared at least once in nearly every dimension and in some dimensions more frequently. Most shrugged her off as a student of Zordon's who had followed him from another world, possibly Phaedos or even Eltar, and simply helped him from time to time to train the primitives that inhabited the planet. She would appear and then disappear and was of little consequence other than a curiosity to try and link her to other names that performed similar functions in other dimensions. It did, however, entertain him to consider, if Murdock actually managed to capture her, that he might be credited with the disclosure of her identity; but that was a minor musing at best.

As his eyes traveled to the mid-day sun, he briefly reminded himself he needed to move quickly to repair the timeline, but that would best be accomplished in the dead of night when the woman was fast asleep. For now he would wait and amuse himself by watching the wolf demon screw up an incredibly easy task. Perhaps if Zordon was too busy discovering why Murdock was on the loose again he'd gain enough time to slip in and out of this time zone without drawing the old wizard's notice; at least enough time to fix the Equaline wave… and surreptitiously secure enough of Ivan's primordial ooze to make himself immortal.

A small, malicious grin tugged at the corner of his thin lips, eventually exposing teeth that had dissolved into thin, sharp needles. Running into Nester's old crony had been fortuitous. If the council wasn't willing to make him immortal, he'd simply accomplish the deed on his own.

* * *

Tommy thought William's plan was insane, but he didn't have any better ideas. His leg was now completely asleep and the numbness spreading into his hip, leaving him all but stranded by the side of the barn as the kid hightailed it back from a small, innocuous looking shed off to the side and handed him three wrapped bundles.

"You ready?" The boy asked, giving him a worried look.

"It's you're plan." Tommy responded gruffly. The Rangers had pretty much gotten the best of the monster, but the cannon was now fully assembled and the two identical massive muscle men disguised as humans were unsteadily leveling the bulky apparatus, obviously tracking Kim; which unnerved him far more than his useless leg. "They got the cannon together." He warned. "If we're going to do this, we need to do it now."

"Right." William responded, nodding. He looked back towards the barn opening and then back at Tommy, pausing and shooting him a horrified look when he realized the older man was suffering a sting from a Wiporie.

"Go." Tommy ordered with far more force than he intended. The kid had a plan, he needed to learn plans had to be acted upon, not warbled over.

"But you're…"

"Going to be in far more trouble if your friend Murdock captures the Rangers, aren't I? Get going!" He ordered sternly.

William nodded once, then several times, as if convincing himself that was the right thing to do, but he was torn. Miss Kimmee's husband had been stung and stings from a Wiporie had to be treated right away or you couldn't reverse the damage they did. Kim and Curtis both insisted that any Ranger stung call on Alpha to transport them back to the Command Center immediately; always.

"Right." He said after a second or two, making his decision. Tommy was correct, they had to act now or Murdock might have a chance to fire their own cannon against them. "Okay..." He said again, but this time turned, gained his bearings and took off at a trot.

Tommy watched him go and barely concealed an involuntary roll of his eyes. He opened the small parcels he'd been handed and his gut sank and he spied the ancient looking blasting sticks. He honestly didn't know if the archaic looking things were dynamite or TNT, but they didn't have a blasting cap that he could see, just one long fuse embedded in the top. He turned and watched the boy maneuver cautiously into position, then pulled himself up to get a better angle himself. He'd be surprised if what the kid had planned actually worked, but he thought that the disturbance they were about to make would at least unsettle the bad guys and get the Ranger's attention back from the monster.

"Hey Boulder!" William shouted, scooting in front of the barn opening. "Put that thing down ya dumb lug, you'll hurt yourself!"

No sooner had he danced in front of the barn opening and shouted at the two twins, then he comically turned and made a beeline to the side and out of the way. It worked though, the two massive twins roared in outrage and dropped the cannon, much to the fury of Murdock, who howled after them, demanding the two get back in position. The twins didn't appear to hear him though, and tore out of the barn after William, who jumped the broken coral fence, flew past Tommy, and kept on running into town. As Murdock raced after them, Tommy used a match to light the fuse on the sticks and tossed them one after the other in towards the opening of the barn.

There was a slight pause in which Murdock watched the arc of the sticks fly over him and all four morphed Rangers also turned in unison. Murdock turned in surprise and spotted Tommy, who was now having to hang onto a broken fence post just to remain upright. He paused slightly in confusion, glancing back at the red and gold Ranger and then back to Tommy as if trying to figure out how the two could be in the same place at once, then quickly looked back to the barn entrance where the sticks had landed and watched as Sirus hightailed it out of the barn and straight past the Rangers. Realizing what was about to happen, his yellow, wolf-like eyes widened comically and he bolted away from the vacant barn after the two twins.

A few seconds later, the first stick exploded, then the second, then the third. Yellow fire burst outward in a hot plume of destruction, then there was a loud crack of thunder and the wood of the barn shredded and burst outward in all directions. As the Rangers ducted for cover, the few remaining horses screamed and bolted for dear life, and monster guts were tossed as far away as Earnest's saloon, Tommy found himself and the post he was clinging to tossed a good twenty feet in the air; landing smack into a large tin washtub of the local Chinese Laundry.

Unfortunately, with his foot, leg, and hip now completely numb, he couldn't quite maneuver himself into a position that would allow him to get out of the large, laundrey filled tub. He struggled for a few seconds, then gave up, sliding back with a frustrated growl into the hot, steaming, sudsy water. He didn't have to wait long. Within seconds, all four Rangers and William had reached him.

After vociferously reassuring themselves that he had survived and being caustically chastised by Kim for not telling anyone sooner he'd been stung by a Wiporie, William chimed in, "Whatever possessed you to use all three of those blasting sticks? Horace is gonna have another of his conniptions now that we've blown up his barn again."

"You mean now that we've blown it up for what? The fifteenth time?" Rocco's voice droned in his heavy Mexican accent. The red Western Ranger looked back to where the smoldering hole hadn't even left enough to burn. "My thinking is that it was your cannon that destroyed the barn this time, blasting sticks wouldn't shred wood like that….or leave that kind of deep hole. You are very lucky husband. You were not morphed, yet you were only tossed…"

"We'll rebuild the barn again." Kim said firmly from behind her pink helmet, cutting Rocco off and instructing him and Curtis to lift Tommy, who's whole right side was now paralyzed, out of the water. "We need to get him back to Alpha before the Wiporie venom gets into his spinal fluid and travels to the brain. Honestly Tommy, this isn't your fight. Can't you even try and pretend to be a civilian once in a while? Wiporie venom is serous and Murdock will be gunning for you once he figures out your not Curtis, I saw the look on his face..."

"You're welcome." Tommy interjected wryly as he was lifted, soaking wet from the large tub. He couldn't see her face from behind the old pink pterodactyl helmet, but he was pretty sure she was scowling at him.

* * *

Netau moved well away from the barn as soon as the first of the explosives was thrown near the cannon and the Murdock's moron henchman didn't show the sense to pick it up and toss it elsewhere. Explosives didn't bother him, but the cannon was a crude and rustic attempt at a containment device and containment devices were capable of massive destruction when damaged or destabilized.

Even after reaching a safe distance though, he kept his horse walking at a leisurely pace in the direction he'd chosen away from the barn, not even blinking when the structure predictably blew to pieces and the thunder of the explosion rolled past them, spooking the horses and sending the town into chaos.

"So what do you think of Calamity?" His companion asked, but he ignored the young man.

Nester's son was a juvenile delinquent barely worth associating with. Netau knew the history and, although he'd eventually grow into a fairly decent villain, history would pretty much ignore his tenure; snubbing him with little more than footnotes and mild references.

"I told you she's an impressive adversary. My father was never able to…"

"You're father was an idiot." Netau spat harshly, silencing the young man. "Calamity Kim is one of Zordon's Rangers, nothing more. That your father was never able to dispose of her and her pack of witless locals is proof that Ivan's trust was seriously misplaced."

"Lord Ivan's trust was never misplaced in my father." The youth declared angrily in offense. "Six thousand years ago…"

"Six thousand years ago," Netau hissed in an annoyed response, "You're father's incompetence caused Ivan to decompose, allowing the Ninjetti Rangers to encased him in the egg."

The young man scowled at the albino, clamping his jaw shut against the angry comeback that itched to fly from his lips. His father was dead, had died trying to free his master, never giving up in his faithfulness until the bitter, fiery end. It was unworthy of the stranger to defile the memory of such loyalty.

Loch was proud to be his father's son and proud to continue his father's quest to free Lord Ivan once and for all. He would do whatever he had to and if that meant being subservient to the arrogant wizard next to him, he'd be subservient; for now at least. Once Ivan was free, it would be another story. Ivan would reward his liberator well and Loch, as Nester's son, would be very well rewarded indeed for continuing the mission after his father's untimely death. His musings of power and rewards soothed his temper a bit and allowed him to hold his tongue, but in truth, Loch was very young and half human and definitely not the demon his father was; he just couldn't let go of the sting to his pride.

"My father was tricked." He pouted after a considerable silence where the two had simply ridden side by side back the shell of his father's old fortress. "Kim Hart's a descendant of the same Kim that tricked Ivan himself and sealed him into the egg six thousand years ago."

"What did you say?" Netau asked in a waspish, snakelike whisper, body tensing rigidly, ear cocked as he pulled back on the reins and signaled the horse to a stop. The boy also pulled up short alongside him and Netau's head slid fluidly in his direction, yellow eyes piercing his soul and causing him to shake briefly in genuine terror.

"My father was tricked." The boy stammered, unnerved, but still proud enough to defend his sire. "Just like Lord Ivan."

"Before that." Netau spat, eyes narrowing evilly. "I want to know about the one you called Kim Hart."

"Kim Hart, that's Calamity's name; ain't a secret to no one. She's Curtis Hart's sister and a descendant of the Kim who sealed Ivan in his egg chamber; my father said so. Said she was the spitting image of the red Ninjetti Dulcea sent after him and even had the same name…"

"Impossible…" Netau hissed, his normally calm and apathetic features contorting as he weighed what seemed to be impossible odds and the absolutely absurd conception that they were possibly speaking of the same demon spawn who had caused him so much grief and aggravation of late.

His body shook with rage as he walked his mind through the possibilities and began to draw link after link; incredulous that the obvious had eluded him. The first Equaline wave had begun with the elimination of her ancestry, the second had snapped into place nearly ten thousand years prior to the origin of the first. Loch had placed her six thousand years into Earth's past, it wasn't a difficult stretch to speculate on her ability to travel further back.

Kemora was a demon who could cross dimensions and time, it stood to reason that her doppelganger would have the same abilities, yet everyone simply assumed it was her handler Thomas who orchestrated the time and inner-spacial travel. Fury consumed him as he mentally ticked off episode after episode that couldn't be explained. Why she wouldn't die, why others fought to protect her even though she was considered contaminated filth to one side and a traitor to the other. Zordon had been wily, he'd give the old wizard that, but the time for games was at an end.

Netau's slit like eyes bore into the Nester's young son with a murderous vengeance he didn't bother to conceal. "We have a new mission." He rasped, his voice dripping with more evil venom than the boy had ever heard.

* * *

Kim held Tommy upright as the Rangers walked the short distance from the alley where Alpha had transported them to the front porch of Doc's small hospice. His entire right side from the base of his ear to his toenails was still numb from the Wiporie venom, but thanks to Alpha's treatments, he could at least get his muscles to move; if a bit clumsily. Alpha assured him he'd be fine by morning, but the day had taken a toll on the Rangers and as the sun descended across the afternoon sky, they were grateful to head back to Doc's place and regroup.

The group bypassed the main door leading into the small front office and headed through a side entry that opened to Doc's private home, automatically gravitating to a massive pine table and stone fireplace that dominated the front room. Once upon a time, when Doc's wife had been alive and his four sons and two daughters had been living at home, the table had been the center of the house activities. It had been the easiest way to congregate in the main sitting room and Doc had simply never changed it when his daughters had grown up and married and his older three sons moved to the east coast and Europe. It had come in handy when his youngest boy had brought the Rangers home seven years before, so he'd simply left it long after Angel Grove had quieted and it was just him and William.

"How'd it go?" Doc asked, walking through another door which led to the infirmary behind his office.

"How's Mrs. Carson?" Curtis asked in return, causing the others to quickly hide their amused reactions and tweaking Tommy's interest. By the looks of the others, Curtis was probably the only one in the room who didn't realize how concerned and moony he looked.

"Oh she'll be fine, considering." Doc answered with a tired sigh. "I've given her as much Laudlum as I dare. I'm sure she'll sleep through till morning." He added, wiping his brow with a white cotton handkerchief, then sliding the thin cloth under his double chins and back around his broad neck. "I saw the barn go up again. Horace hasn't been in for his nervousness pills, so he's either accepted that's the way it's gonna be when Calamity Kim comes to town or that old heart of his has finally given out for good."

"That's assuming he has a heart." William muttered as he plopped down in a chair at the table next to Rocco. "Don't know how old Alfred can stand to keep working with him."

"The barn will be rebuilt by morning." Kim answered absently, shooting the boy an admonishing look and helping Tommy into one of two wing-back chairs.

Doc smiled tolerantly at her, then lifted a tired hand out to Tommy, "Dr. Baxter Cranston." He said by way of introduction, "Most people just called me Doc."

"Dr. Tommy Oliver." Tommy returned automatically, taking the offered hand and returning as firm a shake as his numb hand would allow, then quickly added, "Hart…Tommy Oliver…Hart."

Doc chuckled a little and waved a casual hand as if to dismiss Tommy's obvious blunder and discomfort. "Better practice that son." He chuckled, lowering his massive frame into the larger of the wingback chairs by the fire. "Oh don't you worry none." He said dismissively again, grabbing his pipe and tobacco bag. "It isn't as though I don't know Curtis didn't start out a Hart…"

He paused, catching his breath with obvious effort, as if the walk across the room had exhausted him. Kim lifted cautious, questioning eyes to Curtis and then to William, noting how concerned both seemed over him. Doc had always been a big man, but he'd ballooned since her last visit and the normally dynamic personality was markedly subdued.

"Not that I don't stand by the accepted storyline though." He finished after a moment. "So you're Miss Kimmee's husband eh?" He asked with a chuckle, eyes opening to regard the newcomer.

"I'm sorry I didn't introduce you earlier." Kim apologized, "It's been an eventful day and I forgot you hadn't met him yet."

Doc chuckled a little at her answer, eyes twinkling merrily. "Everyday you're in town is an eventful day miss." He chided, then added, "Does your husband need me to look at that Wiporie sting?"

"No, I had Alpha do it." Kim returned, sitting down on the raised stone hearth next to her husband's chair. "Tommy didn't tell anyone he'd been scratched and he'd already lost the use of his leg and foot."

Doc, smiled knowingly and nodded several times, his chins bobbing in unison. "Nasty creatures." He commented watching as Alicia re-entered the room after checking on Caroline Carson and then turned to lead her small daughter down the hallway and into the kitchen at the back of the small residence. "You familiar with them?" He asked, looking directly at Tommy, but the younger man simply shook his head no. "You're a Ranger though." He said pointedly, regarding him closely.

"Yes." Tommy answered plainly, meeting the other man's eyes.

"You known Miss Kim long?" Doc returned.

Tommy chuckled in amusement at the man's not so subtle attempt at information through small talk. "We've known each other since we were kids." He returned with a wistful smile. He was tired and it showed plainly in his face and words. Between the Equalization process, the strange time zone he found himself in, and the Wiporie sting, he was more than ready to call it a day and go back to Curtis's ranch and the bed he'd been assigned there.

Doc didn't miss the fatigue in the other man nor the way Miss Kimmee hovered over him without trying to be obvious that she was hovering. The man was irritated with her, but Doc presumed that was because he appeared equally concerned and fretful about his wife. Who wouldn't be? He mused silently. They all worried about Calamity; they couldn't help it. She was a strong leader, but strong leaders occasionally took dangerous chances.

Regarding them together now, it was obvious that the two loved one another dearly, but it was still curious to him why Kim would bring him with her. From the look on Curtis's face, he was equally curious; which meant she'd left him in the dark.

"You serve on one of her teams?" He pressed, lighting his pipe and puffing it grandly, but it was Kim that answered.

"I served on his." She cut in before Tommy could answer, surprising everyone present. "Three of them if you count the Ninjetti Mighty Morphins as a separate team from the Mighty Morphins."

"You didn't tell me those stories." William interjected, but before Doc could chastise the boy for interrupting, the outside door opened and all heads turned.

"Abraham!" Kim all but squealed and jumped up as a small Japanese man bowed and entered the room.

"I wondered when he'd show up." Curtis murmured, giving Doc and Tommy an amused look.

"I sent the Richardson boy out to ask him to come and put together a tea to send home with Mrs. Carson." Doc responded, watching as Kim raced across the small gathering room. "She won't take Laudlum unless you force her, but she's going to need something to help her through the next few weeks."

Kim reached Abraham in four quick leaps across the floor and made a half hearted attempt to bow back when he greeted her, but it was caught up in an enthusiastic hug which was received with a small, if slightly smug, pleased smile, but not exactly returned. He patted her tolerantly on the back like a child, then pushed her gently away; but the smug smile remained in his eyes and told everyone in the room the old man was very pleased to see her too.

Tommy refused to be surprised by any of the Western Rangers anymore. Abraham at least was a little more characteristic of what he'd expect in Adam's ancestor. He was strong and stocky looking Japanese man, probably close to sixty, but it might have been the snow speckled hair braided behind his neck that made him think that way. The face, despite the thin gray mustache, looked younger and he moved with an ease and grace characteristic of a much younger man as well. He was dressed, not as a westerner, but in a more traditional Japanese style, complete with bright blue hanten.

"Oh for heaven's sakes." Alicia barked from the hall leading down to the kitchen, hands on her hips in an exasperated gesture. "Go home you old dog." She fussed. "You were too old to deal with Nester five years ago and you're too old now."

"Dog maybe old." He answered in a startlingly deep voice, thick with a Japanese accent which held a sharp barking cadence on each syllable. "But still has mean bite….old woman." He added, digging at her in return.

He threw his shoulders back, chest out, and drew himself up to his full height, which was just a little taller than Kim, and gave the woman a haughty and challenging look that would make any samurai proud, but she merely sniffed derisively and turned in a swirl of yellow fabric back into the kitchen. An instant after she'd left, however, the stoic samurai was gone and he spun around to Kim, face and eyes full of animated enthusiasm.

"Go-go Ranger time?" He asked excitedly, much like a kid who'd just been handed the keys to a candy shop.

* * *

From the murky depths of utter blackness, awareness crept upon him like a cold, unwanted chill. The sleeping dragon had slept for centuries in absolute stillness, yet now the Power stirred the air around him like fireflies in the mist; little yellow beacons in an otherwise cloudy haze of cold, wet fog.

He did not wish to wake. He desired nothing more than to be left in peace, yet he had remained behind only for this purpose. Someone had had to remain behind; just in case.

The others had long since gone ahead of him; he was alone. The awareness of this solitude was thick and murky; threatening despair and grief. He shut the emotion from his mind even as the shadows of it formed there. He had chosen to remain behind. Let the others glory in their venerated status; they were not the true ancestors. He wanted no part of accolades or martyrdom; he wanted success.

He alone was left to remember the dark ages of the universe; when evil ruled through pure malicious corruption and poisoning of the timelines. He alone was left from the coalition of crusaders who had exposed the dishonesty, who struggled to reset the balance of the universe. Something was amiss.

His wakening could only mean that the balance had once again been corrupted before the final shifts had been accomplished. His mind, once drugged with the deep and silent sleep of ages, cleared; his thoughts focused. Once more he, Primus, the great and wise ancestor, founder of the continuum, raised his conscious mind to a universe who called to him for help.

Inwardly he frowned at the source of the disturbance which had awakened him. A double Equaline wave raced through not one, but hundreds of dimensions. Such a phenomenon had not been witnessed since before he had closed his mind to the sweet lull of complete hibernation. Shaking his mind clear of the last vestiges of sleep, he turned his thoughts outward and to the source of the chaos.


	6. Chapter 6: The End of the Quiet Life

Hartland

By: KSuzie

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney, everything else belongs to me._

* * *

Chapter 6: The End of the Quiet Life

_Author's note:__ For more information on Kemora, see The Coins: Chapter 8. For more information on Ulysses' remembrances of Kim's journey into the past, see: The Coins Chapter 1: History_

* * *

Tommy settled back in the soft chair indulgently as Kim exchanged pleasantries with Abraham. The chair was comfortable, the fire warm against the chill in the rest of the room, and the jet-lag feeling that had plagued him since his arrival heavy on his shoulders. His stomach churned and he swallowed hard to keep the bile where it belonged. It was a strange sensation; Rangers were rarely effected by travel or sickness. He assumed it had something to do with the Equaline wave they had crashed through, but he honestly wasn't sure.

True to his expectations, the excited greetings and pleasantries settled down fairly quickly and she introduced the old Japanese man to him, but to his consternation, the topic didn't switch to Ranger activities, but instead settled on the more mundane things that went along with the quiet life that had followed the previous campaign. As interesting as it was to hear about their lives and their relationship to his wife, the heat from the fire began to soak sweetly though his tired body, his eyes grew heavy, fluttering briefly before they closed, and he drifted into a deep and inviting sleep.

* * *

Netau was not pleased. He hadn't expected the local guardian in charge of the current timeline to be happy to help him, but he hadn't expected an outright refusal to assist him in capturing the demon spawn. Calamity Kim, it seemed, was well entrenched in this particular period of history and Ulysses wouldn't hear a word against her; threatening in return to report Netau, who was also outside his assigned time zone, if he persisted in "wild and unfounded rumors."

The young demon had apparently established herself as a well documented and well accepted figure in the local nineteenth century guardian community; part of not only the dimensional association, but the local inter-dimensional society as well; making powerful friends. It made sense to him, she established the same security net of associations in her home timeline as well, but it was infuriating.

The Guardians themselves were not simply one organization, but a conglomeration of self-regulating authorities. All of them were supposedly dedicated to restoring the Great Balance of power that had been disrupted over ten thousand years before, but almost all had differing opinions of just how this should be accomplished.

There were fractions who dealt with the timeline on a localized, linear level in one dimension, those who expanded their influence to reach cross dimensionally, as well those who dealt with the timelines existentially. Keeping order among the often bickering factions were the Moderators and Panel of Inquisition and above them a few Adjudicators. But that was only the hierarchy of the mortal plain, beyond there, the chain of command was a little more difficult to decipher.

Netau hissed as he mounted his horse and slammed his heels brutally into the sides of the beast. Nothing was more exasperating than the local bureaucracy.

Local, linear guardians tended to resent interference in their nicely ordered one dimensional existence and cross dimensional guardians like himself often grew frustrated with the lack of a local's abilities to see the bigger picture of the universe. Both despised their Existential counterparts as being tight-assed oddballs and the Existentialists in turn looked down their noses back at them for their indiscriminate manipulations and interferences in vital shapings of an unknowing individual's self-chosen mode of existence with respect to the rest of the universe; whatever that meant.

The local bureaucracy was always a nightmare to deal with, Netau thought bitterly to himself as he galloped at full speed back to Nester's old fortress. They were almost always incapable reasoning; focused solely on the narrow-minded day to day events within their own limited assignments. He honestly didn't care whose spirit was imprisoned in what sub chamber or what grid had died or was tainted; he had bigger, universal, matters to worry about.

Ulysses, however, was not simply a narrow minded nineteenth century yokel. Although rare for a moderator to regress and submit himself to the ward-ship of a linear timeframe, it wasn't unheard of; especially in the case of a retirement after a long and distinguished service. He had expected more cooperation though.

Moderators were strict rule enforcers and regulations had definitely been broken if the demon spawn was actively interfering with past timelines by illegally posing as a resident historical figure. Ulysses was well known for his no-nonsense and often callous approach. He should be outraged, he should demand an investigation of the truant girl, he should call in the Inquisitors to get to the bottom of her clandestine activities. Instead, the unreasonable, stubborn old being was furious at him for interfering! He, who had been sent by the Adjudicators themselves to repair the Equaline wave and save the universe from being thrust back into the dark ages.

No, Netau was not happy at all. He had been chastised, berated like a child, told to fix his damn timeline, but he was not to touch or in any way come into contact with Calamity Kim. Unfathomable. It was one more grievance in a long and growing list where the young demon was concerned. It was an injustice; yet another wrong that would be remembered and retaliated against.

Worst of all, the old moderator had made very sure he knew he was now being closely watched. He would have to be very, very careful if he made a play for Ivan's primordial ooze. It was almost not worth the risk, but it no longer existed in his own timeline and there was no other period in close proximity to ferret it out. He had missed his chance when the egg had been opened before. If he wanted the instant immortality the ooze would bring him, he'd have to chance a grab at it now, while officially on a mission to the only other period in time where the egg was relatively accessible. It was now or never.

His lips tightened and his eyes narrowed as he charged forward. It was simply inconceivable that the novice girl could get away with manipulating the timelines as she had. Part of him wondered briefly who was protecting her. Time travel was a difficult mastery. He himself wasn't foolish enough to propel himself back more than a few hundred years; let alone several thousand. With only the slightest of miscalculations, the disruption to the timelines could be unfathomable.

The girl had been identified and placed six thousand years into her home dimension's past and the Equaline wave had begun just under ten thousand….and not just in one dimension. Kimberly was an established multi-dimensional corrections manager; if limited in authority to the cleanup of Kemora's tirades. Either she was incredibly stupid to try so many massive leaps over so many varying dimensions…or someone was assisting her. He was almost certain the latter, but the question remained who.

He would find out, he decided resolutely. He would find out, and when he did, he would expose all of them. He would see them crumble before the Inquisitors and brought to their knees. He would destroy them…

* * *

"Netau is most likely here for the same reason I am." Kim murmured, a slight frown knotting her forehead as she pressed her lips against her knees in contemplation; not liking that the other guardian had been sent in and silently cringing at the ways he might try and solve the problem with the timeline. She could think of at least half a dozen other senior guardians who had a much better feel of the harmony of timelines.

"The anomaly?" William asked, and she nodded in return.

She was sitting on the large stone hearth, next to Tommy's chair, arms wrapped around her legs. She had changed out of the formal skirt and polonaise, as well as the corset, and into the split riding skirt, white shirt, and vest that the Western Rangers were accustomed to seeing her wear.

She doubted Netau had followed her, it had to be a coincidence. According to Tommy, Ulysses himself had brought her back this time. Netau had to have been sent after the Equaline wave by the continuum; not after her. But why him? He was in charge of the ten years preceding and then following the twenty-first century millennia; not the twentieth. True, he was powerful and was a multidimensional sentinel, but he would have little to no experience with the harmonies of ninetieth century Angel Grove.

The question worrying her most was if he had recognized her. Zordon had reset her morphanological energies to correspond with the timeline, so she could only hope that she'd ducked away from him before he could get a good reading on her.

"I don't like it." Curtis returned softly, a frown deepening on his forehead. They were all speaking in low voices out of respect for Kimberly's sleeping husband. "The man was obviously allied with Murdock."

She glanced up at him and then to her husband as he shifted slightly. Curtis regarded the pair and absorbed her anxious look. She was worried, but he wasn't sure if it was the appearance of this new adversary or her husband's feverish condition. His instincts told him both, but at the moment she was far more apprehensive about her husband. He knew first hand Rangers rarely fell prey to minor illnesses and her concern troubled him.

As he watched her quietly fret over her sleeping husband, a wave of envy washed through him. He wasn't jealous. He and Kim enjoyed a uniquely close relationship, but he had long since given up any intimate intentions he might have once had toward her. Once upon a time, believing he'd never see her again as she departed from her first visit, he'd actually grabbed her and kissed her squarely and rather passionately on the lips. It had been a whim and he'd been awfully embarrassed when she'd returned a few months later, but she had brushed it off as amusing and the two had simply grown closer from there.

Closer, he thought wryly to himself, but not romantically. She allowed him to love her, and returned that love, but only in a familial way, like a sister, and he accepted that. Truth was, Miss Kimmee was the only woman he'd ever met that he could honestly call his best friend. She was the strongest woman he had ever known and, although she drove him to distraction more than not, she was family to him and had not only helped him be the man he'd become, but the Ranger as well.

Curtis had been born rich. His father had originally made his fortune in the year preceding the great San Francisco gold rush and, in years that followed, quadrupled that fortune many times over by supplying the hordes of hopeful miners that poured into California. But while Curtis had all the best things life had to offer, he never had anyone he could feel close to.

Born in the spring of 1856, he had very few memories of his mother. She had left him in the care of nannies to raise and then disappeared from his life entirely shortly after his father died in 1862. His brothers, considering him a nuisance, had quickly and efficiently packed up him up with the rest of his mother's household and sent their six year old half brother back east to boarding school; conveniently ignoring the fact that a Civil War was in full swing.

He had been a fiercely independent child, which quickly got him kicked out of boarding school and placed in military school, but, in contrast, was also incredibly needy. He wanted desperately to be loved, but learned very quickly that was not an acceptable personality trait in a budding young soldier and a liability to his survival in the dormitories. He learned the hard way that continued existence in the dorm hierarchy meant being stronger and tougher than anyone else and efficiently squashed his gentle side under thick iron walls.

Not having a personality that could be strapped down to a desk in a dark classroom for hours on end and resenting the strict disciplinary regime of his academy, he dropped out of school at the age of thirteen, but never forgot the lessons learned there. The discipline and strict work ethic that had been pounded unmercifully into him remained with him the rest of his life.

Oddly enough, with an innate love of books and learning, and access to the Power Chamber's data bases, he had ended up much better educated than many who lingered decades longer in academia; certainly more of an education than most of his western contemporaries. He supposed, if he could have stuck to his schooling, that he would have made a good scholar, but the wild west, with all its varying terrains and untamed wilderness, called to him like an irresistible mistress and he had been more than happy to answer her.

If his brothers weren't exactly happy about dolling out his inheritance when he returned to San Francisco and demanded it, they were more than happy to see him ride off in the sunset and never look back. He supposed, he thought spitefully, they assumed the west would simply swallowed him up. They had given a little boy a fortune in gold that would confound a man three times his years, but Curtis had always had a plan for his life. He was not one to mindlessly squander what he knew would never come his way again. He wanted something that would last. He wanted land.

Riding southward down the coast for no other reason than an old family story that his ancestors had settled there nearly a hundred years before, he had a plethora of adventures for one so young before ferreting out his family's old homestead and building himself a small mud house; completing the tiny structure just after his fifteenth birthday. He knew the townsfolk were curious about him, how a boy of his young years could come into enough gold to buy his own little farm and a small herd of cows, but he avoided and ignored them; preferring the life of a recluse and throwing himself into the land that he loved.

He'd never really meant to marry his wife a few months later, but it had been the right thing to do. She was the daughter of one of his hired hands and the granddaughter of a local Indian chieftain … and had given him a son a few weeks later. Not quite eighteen months after that, his second son was born and to his surprise, he suddenly found himself a grown up family man and head of a household.

His wife had been a sweet, quiet little thing and he supposed he loved her, after a fashion. At the very least, she had been a good companion and an invaluable asset to settling the untamed land into a working farm. She'd given him a daughter two days after his ninetieth birthday, but then the two had succumbed to smallpox a few weeks later and he found himself a teenage widower.

When her sister had offered to raise his boys with her own children in her village, he'd reluctantly let them go, but had also been relieved. He realized in later years that he really hadn't been a very good father to them, and that thought pained him, but he had been very young and very overwhelmed. Unlike his own family though, he'd continued to take care of them; sending food, medicine, money, anything they needed. When they'd been forced to move the village up the mountain onto the reservation lands, he'd gone with them and helped them build a new cabin. He'd even set up a small school and arranged for a missionary teacher to teach them and the other children in their village. Neither boy wanted much to do with him though, and that disappointed him.

Given their antipathy for him, he wasn't sure why he tried to stay involved with his sons or went to such extreme lengths for them. He hadn't fought to keep them, they certainly didn't want him, and his brother in law resented the interference. Miss Kimmee had accused him of having an innate need to be loved. She said he was a classic little boy denied. He didn't have a family, he didn't have a home, so helped others with theirs. He supposed there was a grain of truth in that, but he'd really never contemplated it. The truth was, she was the one who had secured him a stable home and inspired him to act upon his urges to help others in need.

On her second trip back, she had taken on the Indian agents, bankers, and the entire township of Angel Grove itself to secure him that right. He hadn't liked her interference, and it still chaffed him to remember it, but he couldn't deny what she'd done.

Curtis's ancestor had apparently been related to or migrated out of an unknown western tribe of Indians, but the line he was descended from had lived among the English and Spanish settlers in California for nearly a hundred years. His brothers all sported brown hair and brown eyes, but their skin tone, confined to their offices and ballrooms, was pale in comparison to his propensity to tan in the hot sun of his ranch. He was also esthetically a throwback to that distant and long forgotten ancestor, which had gotten him into more than one sticky predicament with the other settlers, and he'd had an Indian wife and admitted to having two sons who lived on the reservation.

Land hungry and envious of the prosperous ranch he'd built for himself outside of Angel Grove, a few of the local homesteaders had pressed the Indian agents to confiscate his land and have him confined to the reservation with his children. To his dismay, the local banker had been more than happy to assist them and, in the process, confiscate the bulk of the money Curtis had deposited with him. The 1870's had not been very friendly towards the Indians and, to his dismay, he found himself caught up and drowning in the unfriendly laws being passed that threatened to strip him of all he owned and had worked for.

In desperation, he had written his brothers in San Francisco, who were politically very powerful, but had been ignored. They considered themselves done with him and had no intention of coming to his aide. For the first time in his adult life, he'd felt completely helpless and it had been a huge burn to his male ego that the only person willing to come to his rescue and fight for him was female.

It had been a nasty, vicious struggle and he hadn't like the fact that the only way to win it had forced Kim to utilized the Command Center to forge documents and create a new past for him, but at the same time he'd also been deeply touched that she'd fight so hard for him and, in the end, adopt him as her own. She'd claimed him as his sister and given him her last name; no one had ever fought so hard or gone so far out of their way for him. More than that, she'd brought him into the fold of the Rangers and opened a universe for him that he'd never believed possible.

By the time of his twenty-fifth birthday in 1881, the tide had turned and it was Curtis who controlled Angel Grove. He didn't flaunt his wealth and few knew the true extent of his holdings, but he had not only bought out the ranchers who had fought against him, making Hartland the largest cattle ranch in three counties, but he now owned the bank that had tried to confiscate his wealth as well. His father's son, inheriting an innate knack for business, it now amused him to no end that he now held the mortgages on nearly every farm, grove, and ranch in two counties as well as the mercantile, the boarding house, the saloon, the telegraph, two mines, and the local whore-house.

Innately cautious and having never forgotten the turmoil of nearly losing it all, he was extremely cautious that no one know the extent of his holdings. His first order of business was to send the former banker back east with his tail between his legs, his second was to set up a chain of command that would ensure he'd never lose control of his assets again. To the outside world, he remained the unassuming owner of Hartland, privately he controlled every aspect of his life and his fortune as well as the fortunes of many others.

Yet for all his wealth and power, he was envious of the man Miss Kimmee had arrived with. Like the little boy who'd had his life ripped away and was sent packing into the uncertain unknown, he'd give all he had for a woman to look at him like that; to be loved like that.

Looking past her to the narrow hallway beyond the table, he felt his heart clench a little. Down that hall was a door and behind it room where there was even more enchanting female than Kim…but he clamped the thought down, refusing it before it could even properly form. Inside that sick room was a married woman grieving for her child; nothing more.

Thanks to Kim, he had a good life; he had nothing to complain about. Realizing both Doc and Abraham were watching him stare down the long hallway, he looked away and shifted his gaze to the burning fire of the hearth.

* * *

Zordon was stunned. If he had still had a physical body, it might have collapsed. Never, since he had bid farewell to his master nearly ten thousand years before, had he ever expected to be contacted by him again.

Primus predated him by tens of thousands of years, although exactly how many, the old wizard didn't know. He hadn't been a young man when his mentor had left, nor had he been a novice, but his loss had been devastating. For the first time in his life, he had felt the true weight of the responsibilities left to him. In the ensuing millennias he had done his best to live up to the expectations of his old master, but he had always privately held the belief, despite the accolades of those who came after him, that he paled in comparison.

At the time of Primus's retreat, Rita had just trapped him within his dimensional warp and the universe itself was heralding a new and untried era. The continuum had only just started to form the Dimensional Guardians and the massive crusade to repair to the damaged timelines had barely begun. The old ways had been discarded; they were re-writing their own futures. Primus and the other ancestors had simply faded away, leaving new generation to carry on in their memory.

To be once again called upon by his old mentor, the being who had taught him everything he knew about the Great Power and how to harness its force, was as devastating as it was exalting. If he were able, he would have broken down and cried; the emotions that poured through him were so overpowering.

Composing himself, he opened the communication link and responded. Whatever had brought his master back from oblivion would have to be gravely serious; the universe itself must indeed be in great peril.

* * *

Curtis forced himself back into the present as Kimmee tried to help them decipher the events of the day and strategize plans for the conflict they anticipated. Of primary concern to them all was that Murdock was back and had apparently recruited, or had been recruited by, a new master. She had half heartedly tried to assure them that Netau was technically supposed to on their side and not after releasing Ivan, but she was vague at best as to why the albino would be there.

For as long as he'd known her, Miss Kimmee was a strong force for good. If this Netau was also a force for good, then it didn't make sense at all that he would be out to harm her or stop her from traveling through time to help them. Partnering up with Murdock was the most damning action. Kim would never, ever convince him that the albino was a force for good if he was working with Nester's old henchmen.

"You trust he allies himself with good?" Abraham asked, voicing aloud the thought that they all had. He had spoken quietly, but his deep, growling voice carried easily across the room.

"I can trust that he will accomplish his mission by whatever means he deems necessary." She returned softly, not quite meeting his eyes at first and then looking up and holding them seriously.

Abraham held her gaze sternly for several silent seconds, then nodded curtly once, acknowledging what she hadn't said; what she couldn't say in front of the others. Abraham was also a guardian, but not nearly of her ability and rank. The power he was in charge of protecting was of little significance except to those directly seeking it.

He was not fooled by Miss Kimmee's small size, soft demeanor, or apparent youth. Exactly what the Dimensional Guardians utilized her for, he wasn't sure and she'd never confided in him, but demon spawn didn't usually bother themselves on the local level; even reformed ones. If this Netau was after her, it was for something more serious than simply aiding their Ranger team.

Abraham didn't trust the Guardians or their bureaucracy, with good reason, and although Miss Kimmee hadn't specifically identified this Netau as a Dimensional Guardian, he knew that was what she was referring to. Her concern bothered him. There was more to the story than what she'd relayed. He got the distinct impression that she was afraid of the albino and that troubled him.

He knew they were entering into a period of time commonly referred to as a keystone; a critical juncture. He knew part of the reason she returned so many times was to ensure the timeline remained steady during its transition through that juncture.

"You have plan?" He asked, waving his thin, narrow pipe in a circular motion as if to encourage her to share it.

"I had one." She admitted slowly, " But now I'm not so sure…"

She let her words trail off slowly, head cocked to one side as if wondering what to do. Tommy shifted again slightly and she turned to him, eyes anxious full of worry. She wasn't sure if it was a bad reaction to the equalization process or the Wiporie venom, but he should have adjusted to the time zone by now. He shouldn't be feverish and he shouldn't be falling asleep in the middle of the day.

Her husband was a powerful Ranger. He'd held more morphers than anyone she'd ever heard of. Most Rangers served only a short tenure of a few months at best. Tommy had served for ten years. Although lifers weren't unheard of, no one she knew of had experienced as many varying types of morphers. He had exposed himself to the energies of coins, crystals, keys and even a prehistoric gem not meant for human use; all of which had remolded his DNA and made him extremely powerful. The result was a morphanological signature unique to the Ranger community. She trusted Zordon to blend that distinctive signature with the current timeline, but she couldn't discount that Netau might recognize it anyway.

Fear coursed through her for him. She could handle being caught outside her own time zone. She was a guardian, one that had clearance to work in various times and dimensions; if not this specific time. She could also justify that Ulysses had sought her help and brought her back. Tommy's presence was more difficult to explain. She doubted Netau would accept the truth; that he had just stumbled into the vortex. She doubted the other guardian would care. He would gladly expose her less than legitimate adventures as Calamity Kim and she blanched at what he'd do to her husband.

She forced those thoughts away though. She had quickly shielded herself when she recognized him and he had no reason to suspect she was here. Tommy would be fine, she reassured herself, he was simply having a bad reaction to the equalization process and she knew firsthand how viciously a Wiporie sting could wipe the energy from you. Realizing the others were watching her, she wiped the concern from her face and turned around to face her friends.

"It's not like you to miss a battle when the chimes ring." She commented, looking at Abraham and changing the course of the conversation.

"Delayed." He answered unremorsefully, taking several large puffs from his pipe.

"The Richardson boy find you?" Doc asked lazily, realizing the conversation was turning from Ranger matters. He doubted Kim would elaborate and give them anymore details for a while. "I had him run out to your homestead and ask for a tea that would calm Mrs. Carson's nerves."

"Telegram." Abraham answered, grinning ever so slightly and looking very pleased with himself.

"Not bad news I hope." Alicia commented as she placed a stack of plates and silverware on the table, beginning to set it for a meal. In her experience, nothing good ever came from telegrams. She had decided long ago that the telegraph was a device Angel Grove and the nineteenth century in general didn't need and could very well do without, but as usual Curtis hadn't agreed with her. "I think there's been enough bad news today." She muttered.

"No bad news." Abraham answered, shaking his head, then putting his pipe back between his teeth.

Kim had risen and was making her way to the table to assist with setting it, but she stopped and regarded the old man frankly, silently asking if he was going to share. Slowly, he took his pipe from his lips and placed it on a side table. He leaned forward slightly, bringing out a thin piece of folded paper from an inner pocket and showing it to her.

"My wife come." He answered with a twinkle and an almost wicked gleam in his eyes.

"You don't have a wife you old coot." Alisha fussed from behind the table, hand on her hips.

"Do now." He countered, obviously pleased to tweak her.

At William's exclamation of surprise, Tommy's eyes opened instantly and he sat up in his chair. Kim shot the boy and impatient look, then turned to check on her husband.

* * *

Kelly Ann Carson turned in her chair at the noise of the commotion in the great room beyond the dark narrow hallway, then turned to watch Allison calmly ladling stew into a fancy porcelain tureen for the table. Allison hadn't heard the noise she realized. Her momma had told her the pretty blond girl was deaf and couldn't hear or understand her when she spoke; but the meaning of that word really hadn't really sunk in until that moment.

She watched as the girl filled a bread basket and then added it to the tray with the tureen. Kelly Ann wouldn't be allowed to eat with the grownups, but she really hadn't expected to. Her stomach was already full of the thick, rich stew Ms. Alicia had had the farm hand bring in a wagon from Mr. Curtis's ranch and she really wasn't interested in having to sit through a dinner where she'd be expected to sit quietly forever and ever and never say a word; pretending she didn't hear anything that was said.

As Allison lifted the heavy tray that was bigger than she was and disappeared down the narrow hall, she slipped from her stool at the butcher-block cutting table and took her bowl to the washtub, submerging it in the hot sudsy water Ms. Alicia had prepared.

Just then, a brightly colored wagon clattered past the back window of the kitchen, jingling merrily with large metal jingle beds and sporting a huge evergreen tree. A wave of boys and girls raced after it and, convinced Santa was also on the tree laden wagon, she opened the back door and ran after the pack of squealing and clapping children; leaving the door wide open behind her. Santa was the only person Kelly Ann knew that could bring her little brother back; then maybe her momma would be happy again.

As Allison returned back into the kitchen, she paused, realizing it was empty. Spying the wide open door and realizing the little girl was gone, she did the only thing she could think of; she screamed.

* * *

Ulysses watched Netau go with a sinking feeling. He didn't often exert his weight as a moderator. Technically, he was retired and had settled into a low level, low stress, assignment as a local grid guardian on his home planet, but from time to time he was still pressed into a more universal service and still held his authority within the continuum.

He was a very old man now and, like many old men, was disenchanted with the way the young run were running things. Specifically he disagreed with the younger generation's tendency to dismiss or disregard him as past his prime and useless. On a good day he was cranky and overbearing, but when vexed he was a formidable force indeed.

His career had begun six thousand years before as one of Zordon's Rangers. He had fought Ivan, assisted Animus with the Orgs, and had struggled through the Beast Wars before being tapped as an interdimensional timeline guardian; rising through the ranks to become a moderator. Few knew his whole history and even fewer knew his relationship to Kimberly. There was no way in all seven levels of hell he'd turn her over to the arrogant, overconfident, supercilious ass that had charged through his doorway without any preamble and demanded charges be brought against her.

As a boy, he'd idolized Kimberly; never forgetting it was she who had saved them by taking them to Phaedos and bringing the Ninjetti powers back to Earth. His bison spirit still guided him, although it had been centuries since he had used his coin to morph. As a veteran Ranger, he'd served with her occasionally throughout his tenure in and outside of time and was not the least bit surprised when she turned up a few years prior to form a new team dedicated to making sure Ivan didn't reemerge from his egg.

Ivan had been his own personal nemesis from his youth and he hadn't blinked twice at allowing her to help the Western Rangers keep him contained. He knew very well she was outside her time zone, but he also knew from personal experience that the Power itself seemed to send her on missions to keep the continuum flowing in the right direction. He was as loyal to her as any Ranger was to a former teammate and trusted her far more than he did any other guardian.

He had already checked the credentials of the pompous idiot who'd intruded on his sanctuary. Knew he was a guardian in charge of a future timeline, not the present one. What he didn't know was why the creature had been sent back by the adjudicators and why he was so hell bent to see Kimberly arrested by the Inquisitors. Netau had been nearly euphoric while damning her and declaring outrageous charges of abuse….and irate at his refusal to assist him.

Ulysses had served with Kimberly on and off periodically for six thousand years. He was more inclined to believe that this Netau didn't understand the situation; that he was unaware the extent of her tenure or what a critical asset she was.

One thing was certain, Netau was power hungry and dangerous. As a moderator, he had seen many, many guardians corrupted by the powers they held; this one was no different. He had no doubt that the being who had visited him played both sides of the continuum and, if he was correct, Kimberly had a very powerful enemy on her hands.

Sealing the doorway of his home, he pulled the collar of his coat up around his neck against the cooling afternoon winter wind and trudged toward his small barn. If Calamity was back in town, that meant trouble in its own right. She needed to be forewarned she was facing far more danger than she was aware of.


	7. Chapter 7: Enemy Mine

Hartland

By: KSuzie

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney, everything else belongs to me._

* * *

Chapter 7: Enemy Mine

* * *

If you've ever heard a deaf person scream in fright, you'll never forget the sound. It doesn't sound the same as a hearing person who has spent all their lives practicing tone and volume, it's high pitched and completely unhindered. It was this sound that brought all seven Rangers flying out of their seats and down the narrow hallway to the kitchen; Doc Cranston hot on their heels behind them.

"What in the world?" Alicia exclaimed irritably, voice edged with a very audible layer of fear as the Rangers filed in the room. All seemed calm and exactly like she'd left it. By the sheer volume of the girl's shriek, she'd been expecting Nester himself holding the girl at knife point while his goons set explosives.

Alison's hands were a flurry of movement and unrecognizable sounds and grunts punctuated them for emphasis. Tears streamed from her face as first William and then Kim pushed to the front of the small crowd to make sense of the deluge of hand activity and translate for the others.

Alison had been born deaf, a fact that had been crushing to her parents. Her mother had contracted Rubella from her older brother while pregnant with her and, even though it had only been a mild case, the damage done to her unborn daughter's hearing was severe; she couldn't register even the loudest of sounds.

Being born a female in the young wild west, which needed strong boys to man a farm, was a bad enough liability, but not being able to hear was considered a disaster. Although much progress had been made, many of that day were fairly uneducated and considered the deaf and mute to be retarded as well. By the age of two, when it became obvious to everyone in town that the little girl couldn't hear even the loudest bell ring from the church tower, her parents had decided they simply couldn't provide care for her.

She couldn't hear to get out of the way of horses and machinery, which was extremely dangerous, but she also couldn't talk or follow verbal directions, which made her useless in the never ending work that needed to be done. Unwilling to feed and clothe what they considered to be a retarded child, and who was an obvious drain on already strained finances, they'd simply left her with Doc and asked him to have her sent to an asylum somewhere that took in the deaf, dumb, and lunatic.

Unlike many western doctors of that time period, Doc Cranston was a very well educated man. He had the added advantage of being raised in Hartford Connecticut, where the first school for the deaf had been opened in 1817. Although he knew very little about it, he'd known of its existence and was able to research help for the young girl. This research led to a small manual and newspaper from a Georgia school for the deaf, which he'd obtained by mail order and used to teach her rudimentary signs for basic objects and needs as well as education about deaf communities.

It wasn't until she was six, however, when Calamity Kim first came to visit, that Alison's world exploded with possibilities. Kim didn't just know little signs like "Table-go" or "What eat?" She knew all kinds of signs and how to have a conversation with them. It was like being able to paint with oils on a canvass after years of making do with a tiny stub of a pencil.

Alison had never met another deaf person, let alone a hearing person who could actually speak fluently with her hands, and the concept that there were whole schools of deaf people back east fascinated her. She learned like a child starved for food and eagerly awaited every chance she could spend time with her. When Calamity Kim left town, she dreamed of traveling to one of those far away schools back east and learning everything she could about the world; possibly even learning enough to be a teacher herself and teach other deaf children that there was a world out there beyond the silence.

Knowing she couldn't stay long, Kim had taught William and the others how to talk to her, but although William had learned the new form of communication quickly and easily, the rest only knew a few simple phrases. Doc had tried the hardest next to William to become skilled at it, he'd cared for her since she was two and thought of her like his own, but, like many hearing people, he was much better at making himself understood to her than actually understanding what she was saying in return.

On her last visit, Kim had even begun to teach her how to read lips and, while difficult, she was fairly good at it now. She could even understand most of what Alicia said and Alicia spoke faster and murmured more under her breath than anyone Alison had ever known. She was so good at it, that many strangers to the infirmary were often astonished to discover she couldn't hear them, but unfortunately, most of the town still treated her like an addle brained idiot because she could never master talking back to them with any fluency. What words she could utter were only mimics of the vibrations she felt on William's throat when he spoke and, although she could mimic the shape her lips were supposed to take, the sounds she made were never well received.

Alison was actually very smart. If she could have spoken and if anyone had bothered to read her diaries, they would have realized she was actually quite brilliant where science and medicine was concerned. She read everything she could get her hands on and was better at assisting Doc than William was. She was quick to realize what medicines were needed and in what varying quantity as well as diagnosing what needed surgery and what didn't. As his health failed, Doc, who still considered her only a little girl, had begun to rely on her more and more, but because she could never learn to talk, most people still considered her dumber than dirt.

As she moved from childhood into her teens, she began to understand that she may never be taken seriously in life; she was a female and she was deaf. Life was hard enough on a girl in the nineteenth century west let alone a girl who couldn't hear or speak. Only William seemed to acknowledge there was more to her, but there was little he could do except sympathize. Resigned to the fact that her existence would most likely never change, she reminded herself firmly over and over that she owed Doc the roof over her head and the food she ate, so she simply contented herself with life in the back kitchen of his home.

When Miss Kimmee came to town though, that was another story. She could hardly wait for her favorite teacher to spend a few moments with her. She knew far more about the Rangers than anyone gave her credit for, so she understood that her mentor would be busy at first with Ranger matters, but eventually she would seek her out and they could talk. She had so much she wanted to share with Kimberly. She was no longer a little girl now and there were so many questions she couldn't speak to William about and Alicia simply didn't understand.

In desperation for advice on feminine matters, she had tried to write her questions on paper, but Alicia had only become flustered by them and burned the paper in embarrassment. The only reply she ever got was a book left on the cutting board block called "A Ladies Guide to Perfect Gentility."

It hadn't helped much. Most of the advice was on how to behave in public, which, since she was never really out in public, didn't apply to her. It wasn't entirely useless. She learned some rules about etiquette and shopping that seemed to be appreciated by Doc's patients and the local merchants as well as how to lift her skirt slightly with her right hand, like a lady, when stepping off a curb instead of yanking it up out of the mud like the whores at the saloon. She also found the advice for young ladies to "Remember that, valuable as is the gift of speech, silence is often more valuable…" highly amusing, but none of it answered her questions about the teenage emotions she was feeling or the changes in her body and she longed to talk with someone who might understand.

Now, however, she was panicked. It wasn't often people trusted her with responsibilities outside the kitchen. She'd finally been trusted enough to be given the opportunity to care for the child of one of Doc's patients and in the few seconds she'd been gone, the little girl had simply disappeared.

"What d'ya mean baby gone?" William asked aloud in frustration, signing the words as he did so. "She keeps saying "Baby gone, baby gone… What baby?" He asked, but Alison covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

"Alison stop." Kim ordered firmly, stepping to the forefront and signing to the girl in very definite movements. The girl gulped and immediately obeyed, silencing the wailing that had escaped her throat. "Tell me what happened." Kim insisted.

"She says she took the stew to the table and when she came back the little girl was gone." William translated for the others, accustomed to his role as her interpreter and automatically filling in for her half of the conversation with Kimberly. "The door was wide open and the baby was gone…Oh for heaven's sake Ally, Kelly Ann disappears and gets herself lost or in need of rescuing at least once a week… you know that." He finished, talking aloud but also signing to her. "Her ability to nose-poke herself into trouble's almost as famous as Calamity Kim's….no disrespect Miss Kimmee." He added contritely.

"Must be genetic." Tommy mumbled, leaning against the wall and rubbing his eyes wearily as he realized there really wasn't an emergency; or at least not one that required his attention. When the others turned to him questioningly, he grinned sheepishly and returned an apologetic look. He'd been thinking of all the times Kim had gotten herself into trouble as a girl and needed rescuing and hadn't thought anyone would be listening him. At his wife's irritated look, he rolled his eyes uncomfortably and focused on a low ceiling beam that had developed a massive crack.

"She's scared we're gonna be mad Kelly Ann took off and now dad won't ever trust her again." William muttered angrily, referring to Alison, who was signing to Kim again. He didn't like it when Alison got upset. It didn't happen very often and there were too many people in the room for him to try and comfort her with a hug or even a small squeeze of her hand. In frustration, he signed repeatedly that it was OK and that the girl would be found, but the intense movement and annoyed look on his face only reinforced that he was angry at her. Scared, she burst into tears; which only deepened his frown and increased his sense of helplessness.

"I only see Oscar's footprints from when he brought in the stew pot and then left." Curtis said quietly over his shoulder as he examined the muddy alleyway outside the back doorway. "Just outside though, on the side street, there's prints of at least a half dozen kids following a wagon."

"Hans Voepel must have come back from the lake with his evergreen for the square." Doc surmised. "The kids would have been chasing it so they could pin their notes to Santa in it before the decorations go on. My guess is, she heard the commotion and chased after them."

Hans and his wife Bruna had immigrated to the United States from Germany in 1870, finally making their way to California about a year after Kim's previous visit. Curtis had almost immediately adopted the two and set them up with a dry goods store that rivaled the established one; which not so coincidentally wouldn't sell goods to Alicia. Before that, the only way his housekeeper could buy provisions was if he accompanied her, which was inconvenient, or with a written letter of authorization from him, which seriously chaffed the yellow Ranger and set her off into a foul mood every time the larder needed restocking.

Hans, who had originally been hired as supply manager for the ranch, had been the youngest son of a green grocer and his wife the daughter of a butcher, so the two were a logical choice to run a new store which would compete with the old one. The store had flourished in the growing Chinatown section near the laundries and immediately become a staple for obtaining everything from simple everyday goods to the hard to get; including fancy tea tins and British porcelain toilets.

Angel Grove's developing middle and upper class adored the store and the unique and hard to find items offered for sale there were a must have for the growing parlors and tea rooms of the ladies societies. Business was so good that Hans had expanded into the storefront next door; creating Angel Grove's first catalog store for imported home furnishings.

Although technically located in the China District, he kept the German tradition of erecting a Christmas evergreen in the small grassy square located as a divider between the cross intersection of the streets outside his corner shop. The tree, which at first had been looked upon with suspicion by the local immigrants in that corner of town, was now a much favored tradition.

The residents adopted it as their own and Hans was delighted to find one Christmas that it had been covered in brightly colored Chinese lanterns. The following year, the square had been enlarged and a small gazebo, nick-named "the pavilion" was erected, which would also be covered in the brightly colored lanterns during the holidays. The lantern tree was always anticipated with great excitement by everyone in Angel Grove and the tradition continued well into Kim and Tommy's time a century and a half later; where the old gazebo marked the very center of what would become Angel Grove Park.

"I'll head up to the mercantile." Curtis answered. "She'll be up there with the other kids begging peppermints off Bruna."

"I'll go with you." Kim added warily.

Something in her voice made Curtis turn and question her. She was thinking hard and guardedly looking around the room as if for hidden clues to a mystery none of them were aware of.

"What are you thinking?" He asked cautiously, stepping back inside the doorway. His stomach was flip-flopping; never a good sign when Calamity Kim was in town.

"That I hope you're right… that she just ran after the town Christmas tree." She answered, not meeting his eyes but continuing to think through unknown possibilities.

"And if I'm not?" He hedged.

She looked up at him, then turned to look down the hall towards the room where Caroline was sleeping. The incident was an awfully easy way to get her quickly out of the house, she thought, then reminded herself not to be paranoid. Still, if Netau knew she was there, then he might try and lure her away from Caroline before she could fix the timeline herself or worse, he could mark the girl and use Kelly Ann to fix the timeline instead of the mother.

She squelched that thought firmly. Using the daughter instead of the mother would work, but it was crude and sloppy. She couldn't trust that it would put time back the way it was supposed to. Her eyes burrowed into the plaster walls of the hallway for so long that Tommy stepped forward and approached her; questioning look silently asking her to tell him what she hadn't voiced.

"I being paranoid." She confessed sheepishly, looking up at him with eyes that clearly stated she was second guessing herself.

"In my experience, it's better to listen to your gut and be cautious." He advised, "If it's overkill, it's overkill, but it's only the start of this mission and we're still not exactly sure what we're facing."

Looking up at her husband, she seemed to come to a decision. Nodding curtly, she turned and faced the group still assembled in the hallway. "Doc, you and Alicia stay here and sit with Caroline in her room." She ordered. If she was wrong, she'd be embarrassed, but better to be embarrassed than thwarted. "Rocco, stay outside the door to her room and don't let anyone in. Even if I come back in here myself and ask to be let in, you ask me a question only I would know the answer to, you understand?" she asked, and he nodded cautiously. Turning, she looked directly at Abraham, "If you sense anything, anything at all, if you feel anything out of the ordinary, come get me."

"What are you thinking Kimmee?" Curtis asked, boots clopping against the wooden floor of the kitchen as he approached her.

"I dunno." She admitted. "I just have a really bad feeling about this."

* * *

Netau was fuming, but he didn't dare let it show. Kimberly had taken precautions that the woman wouldn't be left alone. That meant she knew who he was and what he was doing there; which confirmed to him that she wasn't the resident historical figure she claimed to be, but an imposter from the future.

He watched carefully as the two identical men, one with long hair and one with short hair, accompanied her down the street to where the Christmas tree was being erected. There was something wrong with that picture, but he wasn't familiar enough with the current timeline to distinguish exactly what. The scene needled at him, as if begging him to find the discrepancy.

"You want me to kill the girl now?" Loch asked. One look at the men crossing the street and she'd begun to thrash about and try to scream again.

"Fool…" Netau spit, turning to glare at the young man holding Caroline's struggling daughter. In an impressive display of defiance, the saucy little thing had already bit and kicked her captures to the point where neither of the twins would touch her; even Loch was having trouble.

"Now listen to me, child of my prey," Netau continued in a softer tone, slowly gliding up to the young girl and regarding her so menacingly with his yellow eyes that the child stopped struggling and stared wide eyed at him. "We're going to take a little walk, you and I, and I'm going to take you back to Calamity Kim. You'd like that wouldn't you?" He crooned, nodding his head.

Kelly Ann nodded back, but she was far from convinced she really wanted to agree with him. She wasn't exactly sure what had happened. In one instant she was gulping air and trying her hardest to catch up to the children following the wagon, but her side had developed a stitch and her little legs simply couldn't keep up. She had stopped for just a second to catch her breath and the next thing she knew, something had swooped in from the side and she was being held captive in an alleyway next to the saloon.

"I've marked you girl. Do you know what that means?" He continued in the same crooning tone that made shivers creep up and down her spine. She shook her head no and he smiled placatingly, revealing a terrifying mouthful of thin, needle-like teeth. "It means I can always find you. Wherever you go, whatever you do, I'll always be able to find you." He warned, his voice taking on a growl-like, no-nonsense tone. "One word about our detaining you, one breath of protest…and I'll kill your mother. Do you understand?"

Kelly Ann's eyes widened in horror. Her mother was all she had, the only one that loved her; her father didn't want her and her little brother was dead. She didn't want her mother in the cemetery ground with little Frank; didn't want it all. Without her mother, she'd have no one and would be sent to an orphanage or a workhouse; the most horrible place she could think of. Terrified, she nodded that she understood.

"Then walk with me my child." Netau crooned sweetly, smiling evilly once again; the deadly threat in his eyes made the request bloodcurdling. He held out his gloved hand and glared at her, as if daring her to take it.

"Not a sound you." Loch grumbled, letting her loose and shoving her roughly in the albino's direction. He had bloody teeth marks all up and down his hand shook it roughly before pushing her away from him again. Cautiously, Kelly Ann took the gloved hand the albino offered to her and the trio began to walk down the main avenue of town as if nothing was amiss.

-----

"Nein… no sir. I haven't seen her." Hans, a tall, skinny man with blond hair answered in his heavy German accent. "I'll ask Bruna though, she has got the peppermints for the kinder. All of them went with her to bring the tree ribbons."

"Perhaps I might be of some assistance." A soft voice, cold as ice, murmured from behind them.

Kim didn't turn immediately, she knew who the voice belonged to, knew also that he had taken great care to keep her from sensing his approach. Curtis and Tommy turned swiftly and, to her dismay, instantly shifted into a stance that indicated they were ready to fight. You couldn't fight Netau, not that way anyway. She turned slowly, well aware that she was caught; she knew it and he knew it. Her mind whirled, trying to think of a plan of action, the right explanation, the right move; unfortunately, there wasn't one.

"I believe I may have something that belongs to you." He crooned, the gleam in his eyes revealing the utter triumph he felt. He had her. He had caught her red handed interfering without permission. He had caught her overstepping her authority and breaking at least four to five massive rules; two of which carried certain death if disobeyed. He had won; he could eliminate her.

Kim turned and came face to face with her own personal enemy. An enemy that supposedly worked on the same side she did. An enemy that hated her as much as she hated him. An enemy that she could never declare openly for fear of treason. A nemesis whom she knew would stop at nothing to see her tortured and executed for whatever wrong, real or imagined, he could pin upon her.

"Calamity Kim." Netau mused acidicly as she turned and came to a stop in front of him, "I should have known."

"I believe you have me at a disadvantage stranger." She answered calmly, watching his eyes narrow and the struggle to control his anger. He wasn't alone, there was a young man with him that she'd never seen before. She didn't dare reach out and try to determine if he was a guardian or not. "You appear to know my name," She answered serenely, "But I don't seem to know yours."

"Liar!" He spat, malice and fury replacing the ecstasy of triumph he'd felt only moments before. The girl was mocking him. His eyes narrowed, as if challenging her to deny that she was being maliciously disrespectful. "No games Kimberly. It ends here." He hissed.

"Thank you for returning little Kelly Ann." Curtis interrupted, stepping forward hesitantly. He didn't like the verbal showdown that was occurring between Kim and the albino. The two looked as if they'd draw weapons against each other at any second and he wanted Caroline's daughter well away from it when it happened. "I'll just take her back to her mother." He added, moving cautiously toward the strange men, but Kim raised her arm out and stopped him. Netau was in a dangerous mood, he could easily kill everyone present.

As if understanding there was trouble coming, Hans backed away slowly until he was sure the albino wouldn't stop him, then ran in the direction of the sheriff's office. He didn't know the strangers, but they had Caroline Caron's daughter and obviously weren't friends of Curtis; that meant trouble. If they knew and were after Calamity, that was the kind of danger that could escalate quickly out of control and destroy buildings.

"Curtis Trueheart." Netau declared lazily, shifting his gaze away from Kimberly and boring his yellow glare into Curtis. "The patriarch of so much and yet so little. How quaint," He mused. "Tell me, has your granddaughter figured out which comes first? The ancestor or the clone of the descendent? It all makes so much more sense now. What a pretty little web she's woven, I'm sure the Inquisitors will be quite amused to unravel it."

"Let the girl go." Tommy warned, stance tightening. A fight was coming, he could feel it with every fiber of his being. Kim was terrified, he could sense it even though she'd steeled her expression and seemed outwardly calm.

Curtis had been caught off guard by the stranger's words, and was obviously puzzled by them, but Tommy's comment brought him sharply back to the reality that he needed to get the girl away from the two men in front of him. Like Tommy, he focused on the situation at hand and edged into a position where he could easily swoop forward and grab Caroline's daughter. He could ask his questions later.

"Thomas Oliver." Netau greeted Tommy, his eyes shining with malicious glee as he finally recognized the distinct signatures of his enemy's husband. Both of them had been skillfully equalized to the timeline, but Oliver's signatures were as unique as a single cornstalk in vast meadow of clover. "Really Kimberly, you'll stop at nothing to break each and every rule you come across." He taunted. It was really too good to be true, he was going to be able to wipe out everyone at once.

"Let the girl go." Ulysses' voice boomed from off to the side and everyone turned to see the heavy set man barrel down on them with surprising speed. "You were warned." He declared dangerously, coming to a stop directly in front of Netau. His eyes blazed and his handlebar mustache raised and lowered with a temper that as ill concealed at best. "Leave… Now." He ordered, visibly shaking with rage.

"You can't deny me now!" Netau hissed, suddenly equally enraged, "She's even brought her husband with her! You can't possibly justify his presence!"

"If you don't leave now," Ulysses thundered, voice amplifying the fullest authority at his disposal, "I will have every Inquisitor I can rip out of the fabric of time itself interrogate you for the willful destruction of a keystone time marker!"

Netau at least had the courtesy to blanch slightly. He was shaking in rage, but backed away slightly, pulling his companion with him and leaving the small girl he'd been restraining in the widening gap between them. Moderators, even retired ones, were not beings you wanted to cross.

"How dare you condemn me?" Netau hissed angrily. "I, who have been sent by the Adjudicators themselves."

"Yes you, who have blatantly revealed yourself against my direct order, who has exposed the secrets of the continuum to innocents..."

"Innocents?" Netau cried, forgetting all decorum. "How can you possibly claim that…." He paused, gesturing insultingly to Kimberly, "That… spawn of Maligore as innocent!"

"Curtis Trueheart is a friend of the guardians, but he's not one of us." Ulysses pronounced. "Neither is that child and I have no idea yet about the other two." He added, referring to Tommy and Netau's companion. Netau faltered a bit, as if considering that he may, indeed, have actually overstepped, but not really wanting to believe himself capable of such an error.

"Your choice of traveling companion also belies your motives and indicates your affiliations are not what you've claimed them to be." Ulysses continued, in full moderator mode now. "Loch, son of Nester, is hardly the wisest choice of assistant; considering the father's associations."

At his words, Curtis's head jerked up. He hadn't known Nester had a son, but one look at Kimberly's pale face and he realized it was true. Nester's son added a whole new element to the equation. That was why Murdock and the twins were back; they served their master's heir. An heir who undoubtedly carried on his father's mission.

Netau took one more step backward, as if caught, but recovered well. "My associations are in alignment with the work assigned." He snarled, his confidence and authority once again returning.

"I'm sure." Ulysses returned in a malicious tone that threatened violence. "You are hereby banned from my territory Netau." He rumbled dangerously. "Return to this time and I will use all means at my disposal to…"

"I am here by order of the Adjudicators themselves to repair an Equaline wave!" Netau returned.

"I am requesting a replacement pending an investigation into your affiliations." Ulysses thundered over him.

"How dare you question…"

"You are in violation of a direct order to steer clear of Calamity Kim. You have exposed innocents to the existence of the continuum. You have exposed innocents to a future that is yet unwritten…shall I continue?" He thundered.

Netau paused, a look of pure venom spewing from his eyes, but he backed down. Backing up a few more steps, he gave Kim a look that clearly stated their encounter wasn't over. Then turned in a swirl of his long leather overcoat; leaving Loch no choice but to follow.

"Girlie…" Ulysses growled, turning his angry tone on Kim. "You've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do."

* * *

"Granddaughter?" Curtis asked incredulously, turning to Kim, but she only raised her eyes mournfully to him, as if a huge and terrible secret had been exposed.

"This is intolerable." Ulysses rumbled, striding forward like an iron locomotive, his vast girth barreling toward them menacingly, then abruptly coming to a full stop. "Not you girlie…" He clarified as Kim winced.

He raised one large, tree trunk like arm and shook his finger at her like a wayward child. "That…associate of yours." He rumbled. "I'll have his ass on a pike, I'll have every moderator in the whole damn continuum after him, I'll have the Inquisitors after him! The damage! The damage in a mere thirty second conversation…unfathomable!" He ranted, face turning beet red and then purple in his rage.

Taking a white handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his brow in a gesture similar to Doc's, taking several deep breaths to calm himself and then shaking his head ruefully. "Never seen so much damage in so little time. Unfathomable…." He blustered again in frustration. Pausing in the silence that ensued, he seemed to master his temper, shake his head regretfully, then turned to stare at the two men regarding him as if they weren't sure what to say.

Curtis had stepped forward and picked up Kelly Ann, who clung to him as if her very life depended on it. He turned away from the older man and gave Kim a questioning look, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. She looked uncomfortable, and very, very worried and upset. He wanted desperately to ask about the Albino's revelations, but he didn't dare; not yet anyway.

"I guess I'll have to start with you won't I?" Ulysses muttered ruefully, turning to Tommy. His eyes were apologetic and his demeanor much softer, as if he regretted what was to come.

"Tommy's Zordon's heir." Kim blurted out un-expectantly. When the men around her turned as one, she added, addressing Ulysses only, "He knows; he's just not from this time period. He knows secrets I doubt you and I do. In my time zone, Zordon's passed all the responsibilities of the human Rangers to him…you can't touch him Ulysses." She said plaintively, begging him to understand and take her word for it.

The revelation seemed to surprise the older man, and he hesitated as if pondering the notion, but in the end simply nodded his head as if glad to have an excuse not to carry out whatever it was he had in mind. "And him?" He added, jerking his head in Curtis's direction.

"He's one of Zordon's Rangers and a documented ally of the local guardian community. We should turn him over to Zordon and let him decide the best way to proceed." She said, hesitating for a second before adding, "And the girl's too young, if she's understood anything at all that's happened, she'll forget it soon enough."

Ulysses nodded and regarded the small group in front of him one by one, stalling in his observation of Tommy for just a moment longer than the others. "I agree." He pronounced, nodding again as if to reaffirm to himself that the judgment was just and correct. "You better have a good explanation for this though." He added, giving Kim a stern, warning look, but not nearly as reproachful or blustering as he had been with Netau. "It better be something serious that brings you back here this time."

"You're the one who brought me here." She answered, startled by his words, but not nearly as stunned as he was by hers. His big, bushy eyebrows raised all the way up into the thick crop of grey, curly hair hanging over his forehead.

"Me?" He asked incredulously, "You must be…" He began, then stopped as he spied a group of men approach. "Trouble." He murmured, brow frowning deeply with irritation. "We'll continue this later."

Quickly, his demeanor shifted from one of high authority to that of an inconsequential and feeble old man. Tommy watched as the old man suddenly morphed and seemed to blend into the muddy surroundings of the edge of town; marveling at the silent and masterful transformation. He watched for only a second more as Ulysses skillfully stepped away from the scene, then turned with the group to watch Hans returning with the sheriff and several deputies.

Kim couldn't quite conceal the groan that escaped her lips. "Are you kidding me?" She asked softly, cautious that her voice didn't carry across the road. "They made Bart one of Josh's deputies?"

"The townsfolk figured the best way to get rid of the gun slingers riding through was to hire gunslingers to take care of them." Curtis returned sardonically, holding the little girl in his arms a little tighter. Things just seemed to go from bad to worse that day.

Angel Grove's so called sheriff was a fairly decent wild west equivalent to what New Yorkers might call a mafia don. He kept the peace, but he also demanded a good piece of the town's profits in return for it. He was also the only remnant of the contingent who had tried to run Curtis off and steal his land and money. Try as he might, Curtis just couldn't seem to get rid of him. The townspeople liked the quiet he kept in their growing town, the merchants tolerated or were terrified of him, and the ranchers simply didn't have a choice if they didn't want their herds run off a cliff.

"Bart…a deputy…" Kim mused ruefully. "And how's that working for them?" She asked, turning to give Curtis a cheeky look. He rolled his eyes and sent her a silent sarcastic look that seemed to ask how did she think it was working?

"Well, well, well…." The tall man with a sheriff's badge asked as he sauntered the last few steps toward the small group. He'd seen the albino and Nester's son retreat and understood the danger was over. "Calamity Kim." He mused aloud, coming to rest a few feet away from her. "I knew the moment that old barn went up again that you were back in town. Rumor has it, you've been made a respectable woman, but I just don't buy it."

"The barn will be replaced by morning." Kim responded, ignoring the jibe. The sheriff had been one of the biggest propagators of the rumors that she and Curtis were lovers, not siblings…or worse, sibling lovers. "And I don't think you're in any position to judge a woman respectable, do you?" She fired off, a hard edge forming in her voice that surprised Tommy. He stole a glanced at his wife and Curtis and realized that the sheriff was not someone well liked by the Rangers of this era.

"You're damn right that barn'll be raised again." The sheriff fired back, ignoring the jibe. "And then you and your Rangers are gonna stay outta my town. If one horse from that coral goes missing Calamity, just one, I'll have your pink ass in my jail for horse theive'n."

"Oh that's real good Josh," Curtis fired back heatedly; of course horses were going to go missing from the morning's event. He'd bet his prize bull that several of them would show up saddled beneath the deputies now mulling around behind the sheriff. "Prevent Kim and her crew from doing their job and you can round up your gang of so called lawmen and fight the Wipories and monsters yourself. Now that's a showdown I'd love to see. Just how far do you think Colts and rifles are gonna go against creatures like that?"

At his words, the scruffy crowd of men behind the sheriff seemed to shuffle a little, as if none of them wanted to be called out in the middle of the night to fight creatures that always seemed to be a cross between local Indian lore and Grimm's fairytales. Tommy watched them carefully, trying to distinguish which one of them was Bart, who he knew to be Bulk's ancestor, but he couldn't be certain. None of them looked anything like the Bulkmier he knew and more than one sported an eye patch; the one characteristic he knew to look for.

The sheriff himself though, appeared un-phased. He sauntered forward, holding Kim's eyes firmly with his for a few seconds, then turned abruptly and regarded Tommy. Tommy didn't like the look, it was smug and appraising and completely arrogant.

"You must be the twin brother everyone's talking about." He asked, measuring him up for a second as if he'd just caught him with his fingers in the bank till, then smugly placed his cigar back in his mouth with a look that challenged him to answer.

Something about the way he'd asked the question caught Tommy off guard. He caught a glimpse of his wife, who had quickly stifled a panicked look and then of Curtis, who looked decidedly uncomfortable as he rocked the little girl in his arms back and forth. Then he realized the sheriff had spoken to him in another language; and not just any language, Greek. He was honestly stunned, it was the very last language he expected to hear in a wild western Angel Grove.

Tommy didn't speak much Greek, he had opted to study both French and Spanish in college as his language options. He had, however, studied the Ranger histories extensively and much of Zordon's early records on Earth had been translated from Eltaran into Greek nearly three thousand years before he'd become a Ranger. Ancient Greek wasn't the modern language spoken in his day anymore than Shakespearian English paralleled American slang, but it had been amusing to learn both while still in high school; simply as part of his studies inside the Command Center.

Why a sheriff in the middle of nineteenth century Angel Grove would speak to him in Greek baffled him and he spared both his wife and Curtis longer looks of confusion. Their expressions, however, were steeled blank and silent and he didn't miss the look of triumph that began to cross the sheriff's eyes. Something was definitely amiss here, but he'd have to play along for now and wait to find out later.

"You speak Greek?" He answered in the same language, funneling all the surprise and confusion he felt into that one simple question. He didn't exactly say it well, but it was good enough to stun the sheriff, whose cigar promptly fell from his lips in astonishment, and good enough to allow both Kim and Curtis to chuckle in relief.

"My… grandmother immigrated from Greece." He answered lamely.

Tommy nodded slightly in response, then turned to his wife and shot her a look that said she had a ton of explaining to do. She met his eyes sheepishly and pressed her lips together, as if caught full on in another of her harebrained schemes.

"If you'll excuse us sheriff." She said, looking away from her husband and obviously changing the subject. "We've got work to do before sundown."

The sheriff looked from Tommy to Kim, then at the afternoon winter sun that was quickly lowering in the sky. "Not one monster Calamity." He warned, regaining a bit more of his confidence and swagger. "I don't want to hear of one monster ripping through my town."

"It's Angel Grove sheriff." Kim responded dryly. "You want to be rid of monsters? Move."


	8. Chapter 8: Revelations

Hartland

By: KSuzie

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney except Ivan and Dulcea who apparently belong to Fox (who knew?), the Demon King was originally created by Daniel (but I've changed him around a bit to fit my stories) and everything else belongs to me._

* * *

Chapter 8: Revelations

Author's note: To read the full argument mentioned in this story between Kimberly and Tommy after the Serpentera mission, see The Coins: Chapter 15.

* * *

"Ulysses has asked to see you," Zordon began, the light from his Power Tube the only illumination in an otherwise dark Command Center, "But I have informed him that I would speak with you first."

Kim nodded silently and hugged her arms, glancing around the dark chamber, but avoiding the eyes of both Curtis and her husband. The chamber itself was virtually shut down while Alpha recalibrated it in anticipation of the team beginning a new campaign against Nester's son. It was a normal precaution and not out of the ordinary, but, given the circumstances and the revelations that were to come, the darkness made her uneasy and she shivered despite herself.

"Ulysses has asked to know why Netau has singled you out for persecution." Her mentor stated calmly, "Given the circumstances, I thought it best you reveal the situation to me first, then we can decide how to proceed."

Kim gulped. She couldn't help it. Revealing the causes of Netau's umbrage against her would break several major rules that could catapult her into far more trouble than she was in now.

"Those revelations would violate more than one…" She began hesitantly, pausing slightly and not knowing how to continue, but Zordon interrupted.

"I think, perhaps, we have entered into a period where complete disclosure of the facts surrounding our present situation now supersedes any cautious observance of Continuum rule." He said gently, but his meaning was clear. He needed answers and he had the authority within the continuum, and as the master she had trained under, to demand them from her.

"Curtis…" She protested weakly, buying herself more time than really trying to argue.

"Curtis has now been exposed by Netau to a universe of which he was only vaguely before aware." The old wizard answered. "Given the current situation, this is perhaps fortuitous. I have two choices, to allow him to proceed into realm where his talents can be utilized or destroy him. I have chosen the former, but I think you were already aware what my decision would be on that matter."

Kim nodded, but didn't answer. She already knew Curtis would become a very powerful Ranger, but she never really uncovered what he actually did for Zordon in the years after he retired his morpher. She was sorry for him really. The Guardians did important work in the universe, but it was a difficult life for someone used to a free will.

"He will need answers to proceed," Zordon continued, "Just as I do."

Kim hesitated again, then took a few steps away from Tommy and Curtis, gathering her thoughts. There was no easy answer, no one place to begin, no one event that had shaped the course of how she had become what she was or how she had begun the work that she did.

Leaning against the consol for support, she began, "When I was seventeen, I fell through a rift in time back to the eighteen seventies."

Curtis nodded as she spoke, remembering that part of her adventure, but curious about her perspective of it. The events she portrayed were as he remembered, but the added details from the perception of someone traveling from the future and not living in his present time surprised him.

"No one really knew how the portal opened or where it came from." She explained, "But Billy was able to open another, adjacent, portal and allow me to return home."

She paused as Tommy nodded in acceptance of her account, then grabbed a seat and indicated Curtis should do the same. He had a feeling it was going to be a long explanation if she was beginning with events that happened more than a decade in his past. He wanted to know, but part of him also dreaded what was to come. He verified her story, adding details of his own that he remembered, then, for some unknown reason added "But you didn't exactly recount the story to us like you just explained it now."

Kim cringed. She knew that had been coming. "No." She admitted. "I went back later and told Zordon exactly what happened, he already knew it anyway, but no, I never told you guys the exact truth."

"Why not?" Curtis asked, more curious than concerned. Miss Kimmee always seemed to stretch the truth a bit. She never actually flat out lied and was one of the most honest people he knew, but he also knew she could turn facts upside down and sideways faster than a rattle snake could spit at a horseshoe.

"You have to understand." She began, looking at him earnestly and choosing her words carefully. "The turn of the twenty-first century was a very different place than the ninetieth century. Things there aren't like this present. The Rangers on my team were very young and very proud of their ancestors. Aisha's viciously proud that her great grandmother was the first black businesswoman in Angel Grove, history never recorded anything other than she ran a boarding house, Aisha didn't need to know what kind of boarding house, just that she should be proud of her grandmother for being the strong, independent woman she is."

"What's so bad about running a boarding house?" Tommy interjected, but by the look on the other man's face, he realized that wasn't what Kim was referring to. Curtis frowned and shifted in his seat, but didn't answer.

"The same with Rocco." Kim continued, ignoring the interruption. "His descendant was named for him because he was…well he will become…a huge hero to the town. There was a disaster," She added in a rush when Curtis gave her a curious look. "There will be…" She corrected hesitantly. "Rocco single handedly saved a lot of people at great risk to his own life. No one remembers he was a hired gun or a ranchero, history remembers him as a rancher and a hero and his family is extremely proud of that heritage."

"You were still a bit too rosy in your explanations." Tommy admonished gently, thinking in particular about Earnest's Saloon being described as a juice bar. Why he actually believed it back then, he wasn't sure, but it had sounded good at the time.

"So your Rangers at the turn of the twenty-first century will all be descendants of the Rangers now?" Curtis asked.

"For the most part." Kim answered, nodding.

"What does that mean?" He returned.

"While the genetic morphanological predisposition and markers are desirable in a Ranger candidate, they are not mandatory." Zordon supplied. "Occasionally, it is neither feasible nor in the best interest of the current team to employ nepotism."

"I agree." Tommy responded absently, without thinking. Kim gave him a curious look, but he merely shrugged.

"What did Netau mean by has my 'granddaughter figured out which comes first? The ancestor or the descendent?' I don't understand." Curtis asked, using the conversation to voice one of his most burning questions.

Kim blanched visibly and looked worriedly at Zordon. She tightened her arms around her body and closed her eyes hard. Opening them, she again looked up at the old wizard as if expecting the order to stop her explanations, but he simply awaited her answer as silently and keenly as the other two.

"Tommy's the one who looks like my twin, yet Netau said granddaughter, not grandson." Curtis prodded.

"You're…well…" She struggled, searching for the right words. "I suppose I didn't go back far enough." She answered, biting her lower lip. "A few months before I fell back through time, our enemy in the future employed someone named the Green Wizard to help with our destruction."

She explained how the wizard had cloned Tommy and the battles they had fought, then explained that the clone had turned to good; which didn't happen in every dimension. The decision had been made to allow Tom to travel back into colonial times and that Curtis was a descendant of his third son. A clone was a genetic twin, but you could also possibly argue that the magic used to create Tom was could also be perceived by some as a form of reproduction; making Tom Tommy's offspring.

"So I think what he meant was that you're Tommy's descendant, not ancestor." She finished sheepishly.

"This surprises me greatly." Zordon interjected and all heads turned in his direction. "I was given the impression that the clones generated by the Green Wizard's magic were sterile and could not self reproduce. If facts have proven otherwise, it could possibly alter my decision to return the clone to earth's past…although that history is already recorded and amending that decision would appear to interfere with our present."

Kim visibly slunk down on the counter, shoulders rising nearly to her ears, as Tommy gave her an admonishing look. "I haven't gotten to that part of the story." She admitted quietly, looking exceedingly guilty.

"Then proceed." Zordon responded.

"Wait," Curtis interjected, raising a hand for emphasis. His question hadn't been entirely answered and he was afraid if he didn't get the answers from her now, he'd never know them. "So you really are my granddaughter?"

"Sort of." Kim answered begrudgingly and he sank back down in his chair in frustration. "I'm Junior's descendant." She answered and at his confused look added, her own frustration creeping into her tone, "Or rather, I'm supposed to be. There's going to be…" She paused and grasped at the air with her hands as if trying to pull the correct words out of it. "Francis Carson Senior was supposed to die in December of 1887; not Francis Junior. Both Kelly Ann and Junior were supposed to be raised by you, but unless I can fix it, I'll never be born." She spat as if her words were disagreeable to her. "I'm Junior's descendent…or was. By the turn of the twentieth century no one even remembered they weren't your birth children. Only a very high level time master could have known than Junior was Francis's son and not yours. Junior inherited the ranch and my grandfather passed it on to me…of course I promptly lost it." She added bitterly.

"You didn't lose it." Tommy interjected sternly. Kim was allowing her emotions to cloud her descriptions and needed to collect herself. "Your uncle and your dad contested the will and so did your grandfathers' brothers and their children. You were under age and the court allowed your dad and your uncle to sell your share of the property for you and put the money in a trust fund."

Kim's arms had wrapped around her chest again and her foot was tapping rhythmically in agitation. Losing her grandfather's house was not a good memory, but it had worked out in the end. "I got it back." She muttered, as if trying to make an excuse that they all knew wasn't necessary. She knew how much Curtis loved his land and had genuinely felt, if not exactly accurately, like she'd been the one to allow it to slip out of the family's hands. "Eventually." She amended.

Curtis absorbed the information quietly and without comment, observing her agitation and wondering if it had only to do with the loss of the ranch. He knew how he'd feel, it had just about killed him when the courts had tried to take it away from him. At that thought, he sat bolt upright, head and eyes snapping to attention. "That's why you fought so hard to help me keep it."

Kim regarded him quietly, but didn't speak. Eventually Tommy answered, "You have no idea how hard she fought for it in our time."

"Oh I think I do." Cutis answered, turning to him with a frank look. He remembered all too well the length to which she had gone to save it before. It had baffled him at the time, but he understood much better now. It was her land as much as his; she loved it as much as he did. He regarded Tommy for a moment, then, turning back to Kim, asked seriously, "What happened to Caroline?"

Kim closed her eyes in response, jaw clamped shut, foot tapping again. This was not an easy position for her to be in. She was revealing things she felt were too personal. No one should know too much about their own fate; even Zordon. It was one thing for her to reveal the details of herself, but quite another for Curtis to learn of his own future.

"Kimmee, I need to know." He pressed when she remained silent. There was only one way he would ever come into possession of Caroline's children and the thought nearly crushed him. Something must have happened to her, something awful. He had to know, couldn't stand not to know.

"Shortly after my visit to the past, Zordon called me back to the Power Chamber…" She began, ignoring him and continuing with her story.

"Damnit Kimberly, tell me what happened to her!" He shouted, rising out of his seat so quickly that Tommy jumped out of his own chair; reflexively on guard and ready to intercept him should he spring on his wife.

"Curtis…" Kim replied beseechingly, as if on the verge of defeat. "Let history play itself…"

"Tell me!" He demanded so forcefully that she winced and Tommy edged forward to her side.

Kim regarded him carefully for a long moment before her shoulders drooped. She had dealt with far too many alternate Tommy's not to understand the man in front of her. When he loved, he loved all consumingly; it was a trait they all seemed to share. "You're going to marry her." She replied softly.

Curtis's face blanked in confusion. He was sure she would tell him Caroline died a horrible death at the hands of her husband or some other unknown catastrophe. Why else would he come into possession of her kids? "Marry?" He asked in a dazed voice. That idea had simply never occurred to him. She was going to be his, all his, for better or for worse, for absolutely ever….it was inconceivable.

Kim smiled tenderly at him as he slid back into his chair. He looked for all the world like a stunned child at Christmas receiving every toy he'd ever dreamed of.

"As I was saying," Kim continued as her husband moved to collect his chair and place it closer to where she was leaning against the counter. "A few days later Zordon called me back to the Power Chamber by myself. He explained that being exposed to the morphanological energies of the original pterodactyl coin in combination with Dulcea's crane coin had resulted in the activation of latent genes. Recessive genetic traits that would have never, ever, normally activated, had turned on. That's not unheard of." She added, looking first at Zordon, then at the two men. "Weird side effects of morphers happen all the time." She added, as if trying to justify it to herself.

Zordon had explained to her that he believed the gateway into Angel Grove's past had originated from within her. She'd been upset by the scheduled demolition of her grandfather's house and desperate for a way to save it. She hadn't been feeling well and had been running a slight fever. "I've come to realize that's usually when my powers are growing or changing." She added. "I also can't seem to control them as well when that happens."

Kim continued on, explaining that Dulcea had asked to train her, which Zordon considered a great honor and encouraged her to do. "I declined." Kim added, giving Tommy a rueful look. "I always seem to at first decline the major opportunities that will change my life. I didn't want to leave Angel Grove and I didn't want to leave Tommy. Plus I wasn't exactly thrilled to be morphing into some time controlling super human. I didn't handle it well at all, which is probably one of the reasons why Zordon decided to separate me from Tommy and the other Rangers."

"Why would he do that?" Curtis asked.

Kim regarded him with a tired expression, as if the energy was simply draining away from her with each word. "I wanted to get married and have babies and live a normal life." She answered, trying to sound casual and a bit silly, but there was no mistaking the bitterness in her words. "The continuum needed someone to fight Kemora and the Demon King."

At the mention of the Demon King, Zordon appeared to visibly shutter in his tube. His eyes seemed to roll back in the image of his head and Tommy swore that he gave the imitation of someone trying to brace or calm himself. "The Demon King has returned?" He asked, voice tainted with worry.

"The vortex has cracked." Kim confirmed. "But as far as I know, only Luhg, Eortes, and Teeg have emerged.

"That is too much." Their mentor replied, in a grave tone. "It has opened too far and must be resealed immediately. Kimberly, this is dire, the fate of the entire universe…"

"I understand Zordon." Kim answered. "And now you understand the challenges the future is facing; why I was pressed so hard into becoming what I am. The continuum is corrupt." She admitted, giving Curtis a rueful look, as if facing a fact that could never be voiced. "It has been for some time. It's also been determined that the forces of evil are cheating, which shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone, but it was. It appears that they have been using a demon named Kemora to wipe out the keystone located at the end of the twentieth century. Of course, at the time, I wasn't privy to any of that information; I just wanted to go to the movies with Tommy and pretend life was going to end happily ever after."

Kimberly paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, then explained how, a few months later, Zordon had arranged for Gunthar Schmidt, a famous gymnastics coach to discover her. "That was my childhood dream." She explained to them, "But again, at first I refused. I didn't want to leave but Zordon insisted, saying it was not his place to interfere with the destiny of his Rangers and that I needed to rest my body… I had been captured and tortured." She added, looking at Curtis. "Years later I discovered it was simply a way to removed me from Tommy."

Kim turned to her husband regretfully as she described the next chapter in her life. It had deeply affected him as well and, although he'd read her diaries and already knew the story, she'd never actually spoken with him about it.

As she continued her narrative, she explained that she had come to learn that, in many, many dimensions where the Kimberly and Tommy remained together, and in a few where they didn't, the Kimberly had birthed her first child by the age of eighteen. It appeared that she and her Tommy were also headed in that same direction. "The original power coins apparently didn't sterilize me as completely as they did Trini. If I'd been allowed to stay, and I had followed the other Kimberlys, then that would have ruined everything." She explain. "Having a baby would have forced them to wait until my child was old enough to remove me from it; that would give Kemora time to realize I existed. Time itself was critical, I had to be trained, removed before I was noticed and either killed off or recruited by the other side. That was a future they couldn't risk with me."

"I don't understand." Curtis interjected.

"I do." Tommy answered bitterly. Kimberly had been taken from him in order to make her a weapon against Kemora. They had the same talents, the same ability to bend and manipulate time. Zordon had seen a chance to create another Maligorian demon spawn, but one that could be used to fight the forces of evil; it had been a power play. Tommy had been compensated for his loss with Katherine, but unlike many other dimensions where the Tommy and Katherine had bonded and lived happily ever after, the patch hadn't worked and he'd simply grown into a bitter and angry man. He raised his eyes and locked them with his wife's, but most of the anger bubbling in him dissolved at the sadness she radiated.

"The continuum needed someone who could easily cross time as well as dimensions." Kimberly explained. "That's very rare. Either you have one gift or the other, but rarely both. In addition, I have the ability to feel what I call the 'harmonics' of the universe. I always know where I am, when I am, and I also have the ability to patch…" She paused, struggling to explain it to someone who didn't know the whys of the continuum or its purpose. "I can place things in the right order." She said at last. "I can feel if something's been altered from its natural path and what needs to be done to fix it."

Zordon made an surprised and unrecognizable sound at her words, which apparently the others heard as well since all three turned to him as one, but he remained silent and didn't elaborate.

"I understand the balance that's trying to be achieved." She explained after a short silence. "Not the whys of how it works, but the feeling of it. It's believed that Kemora has this same ability. They needed me to counter her damage, but that wasn't going to happen if I stayed in Angel Grove and married Tommy."

"So you were sent away?" Curtis asked.

"Yes, across country to Florida, but I didn't stay there long. A few weeks after I arrived I met an interdimensional being named Thomas."

Kim explained in great detail, the bitterness plain in her voice, how Thomas had manipulated her. She had been desperately homesick and heartsick for Tommy, but had been led to believe that returning could very well put her and the people she loved in danger. She had been told that Kemora knew of her existence, which was true after a fashion; the demon always seemed to hone in on the stronger versions of Kimberly. She was warned that, if she was near Tommy and the others when Kemora confronted her, the demon would kill them all; just as she had done in countless other dimensions. Where that was a true enough statement, Thomas had failed to inform her that wasn't always the exact history of every Kimberly.

She had also been told that Tommy and Katherine were known to be a very stable and loving couple in countless dimensions and that, by holding on to him, she would be doing him an unspeakable disservice and quite possibly putting his very life in great jeopardy. Tommy was needed. He had his own destiny, a galaxy of Rangers that would depend upon his leadership, and she was being very selfish to hold on to what not meant to be.

"I was very young." Kim said distantly, eyes unfocused as if reliving in her mind's eye the hurt endured by her first consultation with the being who would become her mentor after Zordon. "As a Ranger, we believe in our core that the needs of the self cannot compare to the needs of the universe. I knew Thomas was an older version of Tommy from the future, but I made the very amateurish mistake of believing Thomas was my Tommy. I knew alternate's existed, but it never dawned on me until years later that I was working with one. I thought he had come from the future to help me make a better choice; to put us both on the right path early enough to prevent some unknown catastrophe. I believed him and I believed I had no choice but to break my connections with the Rangers and Tommy and follow him to Phaedos to prepare myself for Kemora's arrival."

"The only catastrophe was trying to pair me off with Katherine." Tommy muttered, half under his breath. He hated this portion of their shared history; resented it with a vengeance. Kim gave him a sympathetic look and he softened his scowl, but his arms crossed gruffly in front of him and he ground his jaw in irritation.

"But it wasn't true? You never tried to confirm it with Zordon?" Curtis asked, looking between Kimberly and her husband.

"It was true enough." Kim responded scornfully. "And yes, I transported back to the Command Center with Thomas and went through everything all over again with him."

"And he didn't warn you that you were being manipulated?" He asked incredulously. That was inconceivable to him. Zordon was the one being all Rangers trusted implicitly.

Kim turned and regarded her mentor. The face above her was a younger version of the one she had known as a child. She wanted the same answer, wanted with all her might to demand how he could have done it to her, but she already knew. "There was only one choice." She said hoarsely, throat constricting with suppressed emotions. "I was the only one they had found with the innate talents they needed, but I had to make the choice of my own free will. He let it me make the one they needed."

There was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice but, as she stared at the sadness in her mentor's wizened eyes, she realized that he understood what he had to do and that she would eventually forgive him for it. She was a Ranger. She had been a Ranger practically all her life; had been selectively bred to be what she was. She knew that now, and he now knew she was aware of it as well.

"He said that all would be well in the end." She answered distantly, turning away from them. "And it was." She finished in a flat, dismissive tone that contradicted the earlier sorrow in her voice. "Eventually."

At her husband's loud harrumph, she grinned wistfully, then sniffed and shrugged her shoulders; shaking the last of the sadness from her. Gathering her thoughts, she re-focused on her story. "Working with Thomas enabled me to train on Phaedos for long periods of time, then return to Florida within minutes of my departure. That was really my first experience bending time." She continued.

Kimberly would train up to a year at a time with Dulcea, then be given a few weeks of "rest" while she returned to Florida to train for the Pan Games. In one respect it was laughable, she mused. She had become so strong as a young Phaedosian warrior, that something as strenuous as training for the Pan Games was like a lazy walk on the beach. Thomas always returned her within a few minutes of when she left; she was never missed and she never aged. By the time she reached the Pan Games, she was already well into her twenties and approaching thirty, yet she was physically no older than the teen she was supposed to be. Sheepishly, she admitted that she had always felt a bit guilty about that and that was probably why her medals were packed away, un-displayed, in a box somewhere.

Not long after the Games, Jason, a long time friend and fellow Ranger, had appeared at her mother's doorstep in Paris with a message that both of them had been called back to Angel Grove. Zordon had asked that she use her celebrity status to help promote a charity fight the boys were competing in for a local children's shelter and Jason was needed to fill in for an injured friend. The request had seemed odd to her given his insistence that she not return to Angel Grove, but she'd never forgotten Thomas's initial warning that Kemora always sought out her victim Kimberly's in California first before scouring the rest of the planet. Convinced that Zordon might secretly be placing her in a position to defend her friends from the demon, she agreed; only to find herself captured by a villain named Divatox.

"Why didn't you just transport everyone out?" Curtis asked, engrossed by the story.

"At that point," Kim answered frankly, "I still wasn't very good at opening portals. I needed the power of the crystal in my Phaedosian staff to consciously open one and I couldn't get it to come to me in Divatox's ship."

Tommy rolled his eyes morbidly at her comment, wondering how frustrated their Zordon must have been. She'd spent the equivalent of a decade trying to develop an innate power he was convinced she had and yet she couldn't even control it enough to escape an idiot like Divatox. At that point, he would have known that time was running out for him; it must have been exasperating.

"I think it was necessary that I not escape." She commented absently, which drew his attention. At his curious look, she added. "I couldn't break through and overcome my human genetics. I was stuck." She explained. "Zordon brought the morphanological power to humans, but we're really not very well designed for it."

Humans were adaptable creatures, but there was only so much they could do given their genetic blueprint. Although several species had broken through the barriers presented by their race and had embraced a more comprehensive existence in the universe, most humans, like the Eltarans, had to shed the core of their genome to fully accomplish it.

Zordon had allowed her to be captured by Divatox and allowed her and Lerigot to be transported through the Nemesis Triangle to the island of Muirantias. She believed that Zordon had purposely slowed the Rangers down with the Ghost Ship, a vessel so old and decrepit it hadn't been used for generations, in order to keep her from being rescued too soon. Zordon had known, based on experiences in other dimensions, that Tommy had to be present with her on the island, that he had to be sent in, but her Tommy was one of the stronger versions and she had concluded that he couldn't risk him saving her too soon; thus the ridiculously slow ghost ship loaded with highly advance Turbo zords that could easily have joined together and crossed the Triangle before Divatox's submarine arrived.

"What happened?" Curtis asked as she paused.

"The Rangers didn't reach me in time." She answered in a detached voiced; eyes completely unfocused and reflecting the horror of the experience. They glowed ever so slightly, as if reflecting the fire that had claimed her. "I was lowered into a pit of pure energy and burned to death."

"But you're here." Curtis observed.

Kim seemed to chuckle sardonically, then raised incredibly old and tired eyes to his. "Only my humanity burned. The demon Maligore reformed Jason and I. We were reborn almost instantaneously as his spawn. I didn't have to worry anymore about my humanity limiting my potential; I was no longer human."

The realization of what she was saying was reflected back to her on Curtis's face. He was horrified, but before he could speak, Zordon drew their attention.

"Yet you did not serve him." He stated.

"At first I did." She admitted, turning to watch the concern spread across her mentor's face. "Turning me was not easy; it required both Tommy and Lerigot. I didn't want to be turned. I had been betrayed and I knew it. I hated you." She admitted, anger sharpening her words. "Even long afterwards. I hated you for what had been done."

"Yet you turned." Zordon stated, as if only one point needed clarification.

"Tommy still loved me." She said flatly as if hating to be the one to confirm the success of a future plan. Her eyes glassed over again and she seemed to dissolve back into her memory. "He hadn't fallen so in love yet with Katherine that he'd forgotten me." She mused.

"I never forgot how much I loved you." Tommy interjected definitively, drawing her attention. His eyes were sad and pained; neither would ever remember that chapter of their history without also remembering the angst that defined their relationship for nearly a decade after.

"You never forgave me for it either." She answered regretfully.

Tommy shrugged uncomfortably. He'd forgiven her, they'd moved on, but he was still angry. There was nothing left to be angry about, the rational side of him understood that, but letting go of something that you'd bitterly and resentfully held onto was no easy task. "You're making up for it." He returned with a what he hoped was a mischievous grin. She returned the smile, then looked away, painfully aware he hadn't denied it.

"The next few years after that were devoted to the continuum." She continued, changing the subject.

Kimberly had resumed her training with Dulcea, then moved on to any other master willing to tutor her. She utilized the timing techniques Thomas had taught her, often literally living two or three lives at once. She and Kemora had faced off not long after her adventure on Muirantias and she'd been shocked and dismayed to learn that the demon had once been an alternate Kimberly.

In Kemora's case, her Tommy had never truly loved her and had been infatuated with Katherine from the start. Being unceremoniously dumped by what she perceived as her one true love had been more than that Kimberly could bare and, once exposed to the fire's of Maligore's pit, had taken her perceived betrayal out on the universe ever since. Her only mission in life seemed to be hunting down every alternate Zeo and Turbo team and murdering every Kimberly, Katherine, and often Tommy, she could find. By systematically ferreting out specific alternates and removing them from otherwise stable timelines, she created a chaos within the continuum that had not been seen since its founding.

However, there was more to Kemora's wrath than just simple vengeance. Although both were distinctly different adaptations of Kimberly, the two were actually very much alike. They each had different versions of a nearly identical power. Over time, Thomas had come to the conclusion that there was more method to Kemora than madness. Although the butchery she performed had undeniably caused her to lose her mind, the result of her carnage was too precise and caused too predictable a result to be completely random; only one specific timeline keystone was ever eliminated.

It was then discovered, almost by chance, that Kimberly had the same "feel" for the universe that Kemora did. She knew the correct patterns, could feel the balance in the same way her doppelganger did. While Kemora might or might not be conscious of the disturbance she caused, Kim was very much aware of how to "fix" it.

"Every alternate is genetically identical, but they also have a different morphanological signature. It's a kind of resonance, a difference in the way the Great Power moves within them." She explained. "Even though the alternate's I find are different, sometimes I can find ones that don't belong or aren't needed on their world anymore, but they fit the resonance of another world and will propel it forward in the right way. I don't know why it works, but it always does."

Whereas she might not be able to put a Kimberly or Katherine back into a world ravaged by Kemora's mayhem, she could accurately and predictably find an alternate child of a different Kimberly or Katherine and place it successfully into the damaged timeline. The Kimberly or Katherine of that broken world would be gone forever, but the child insured the next generation would stabilize it until the timeline reached the next keystone.

When both Tommy and Curtis began to question her, she explained that, although alternate worlds parallel, the actual histories themselves could be very different. Time was not linear and there were many worlds either ahead or behind each other. "This is why keystones are so important." She explained. "Every history is slightly different, but the keystone is a marker where you know all the right players are in all the right places so that each dimensional history, although different, follows the same basic path."

It wasn't easy, but she was able to use these keystones to track down worlds that had legitimately ended and find children that could be removed without notice. They would be "placed" in a world or timeline that would not only "fit" the accepted history of the timeline, but also fit the harmonics. She could "feel" when the balance had been altered and also "feel" the best way to fix it.

When further pressed to elaborate on certain details, she admitted that, in many instances, simply placing the infant or child in question up for adoption was enough to nudge the timeline back in place, but occasionally she had to convince an alternate Tommy or his brother to raise it. At Tommy's surprised exclamation, she realized too late what she'd admitted to. She winced visibly and turned to her husband, who's eyes blazed sternly at her.

"Aaron." He said plainly, although it was more of a growl than a comment.

"Who?" Curtis asked as Kimberly winced again. She looked like she'd been caught strangling someone; panicked and guilty.

"My brother's son." Tommy growled. "Did he even know what you were doing?"

"His one condition was that I never tell you." She replied uneasily, refusing to look at him and simply staring worriedly at the floor beneath her. "He can't have his own children, he didn't ever want you to have any claim on him."

"Of course not, then he wouldn't be able to maintain he had the oldest son of the next generation." Tommy spat back. "The son of an alternate Tommy?" He asked. When she nodded numbly, he added bitterly, "The son of your alternate?"

Again, Kimberly nodded, but refused to look at him. Her arms crossed defensively around her chest again and she visibly braced for the barrage that she knew was coming; he didn't disappoint her.

"Did you ever once think maybe I would have taken him? That maybe, given the fact that I'm the twin that laments he doesn't have any blood ties on Earth, that I desperately searched all my life for any genetic relative I could find, that I might be interested in raising him? David's never given a shit about family ties; he knew for years that I existed, that I lived less than an hour away from him, and never bothered to introduce himself to me. How could you give my own flesh and blood to my brother over me?"

"It was an alternate Tommy's child." She replied defensively. "Not yours. You still haven't grasped that there's a distinction."

"That doesn't matter to me!" He nearly exploded, jumping out of his seat and forcing her to look at him. "It doesn't change the fact you placed my alternate's child, my genetically identical twin's child, on our world and didn't give me first option to raise him."

"You had left Katherine." She replied in a stony voice that didn't hide her frustration or budding anger. "And you were chasing Mesogog. We weren't even on speaking terms. What was I supposed to do Tommy?" She demanded, voice rising in proportion to his. "Simply show up on your doorstep and say 'Hey, how are you, here's a baby that's genetically yours and mine, wanna stop building your command center and raise it?' You would have slammed the door in my face. David's a guardian, albeit a local one-dimensional guardian but he could still understand that the timeline was in jeopardy because you hadn't produced a child yet and were showing absolutely no signs of ever marrying or starting a family."

"I'll bet he just loved that, didn't he?" He spat back venomously. He understood what had happened, understood the logic of it, knew things had to be done in the Ranger world that were sometimes ethically dicey, but it had happened to him and that made all the difference. "I'll bet you played right into that rivalry between us didn't you?" He accused, unwilling to let his anger die. "Tommy screwed the timeline up and now we need David to come to the rescue and repair it." He hypothesized in a sarcastic voice. "I'll bet he jumped at the chance. I'll bet it gave him a god damn head rush every time I held my nephew, every time I lamented I didn't have a family, every time I admitted how envious I was that Aaron was so strong and smart and talented. All that time that smug son of bitch knew he was raising my son!" He shouted, voice raising in pitch until finally breaking over the last words. "Your son… and my son…" He nearly sobbed, voice full of lament. "He had no right to have first choice!"

Curtis was stunned by the outburst. The emotions behind the words were heartbreaking and a glance up to Zordon's concerned face showed the great wizard was also surprised by it. Kimberly had tightly closed her eyes and her shoulders had hunched up above her crossed arms as if the barrage had been physical instead of verbal. Her fingers clawed into her arms, but she slowly regained her composure, shoulders softening and eyes opening to regard her husband. He had stopped his onslaught and was simply staring at her with tear-laced eyelashes. She had hurt him again, she realized. She hadn't meant to, but what was done was done.

"I had no choice." She said softly. "I had intended to keep him myself; I promised his father I would keep him, that I would make sure he knew his heritage. I never wanted to…" She stopped and closed her eyes again, this time in defeat. "Tommy I had no choice. The guardians didn't exactly know I was repairing my own timeline, that requires a lot more permission than I bothered to ask for. Sometimes I don't have time to wait for the moderators to debate; I see an opportunity and I have to act or it's gone. I couldn't keep him. Thomas warned me that the moderators would kill him instantly if they found out. I needed to find a home for him quickly and I couldn't come to you."

"Yes, you could have." He insisted, but in a gentler voice.

"No." She answered sadly, shaking her head. "I couldn't. I'd already come to you once for help and you refused."

It was Tommy's turn to blanch. He closed his eyes and collapsed back into his chair as he realized what she had said was true. She had come to him for help not long after the Serpentera mission and he'd turned her away. He'd just broken up with Katherine and had been in no mood for any kind of peace talk with any female; let alone the former girlfriend he blamed for slashing his heart and destroying any last vestige of youthful innocence he might have harbored. He'd lashed out with words so venomous the two hadn't spoken again for nearly a decade.

"David was my best option." Kim concluded softly. "He was genetically related, Aaron would look like him…"

"Aaron looks like you." Tommy interjected morbidly, which made her pause and regard him curiously. "He does." Tommy insisted. "I've always kind of wondered at that. I thought I was just being…" He paused and shrugged as if it didn't matter. No one needed to know he'd baby sit his nephew and daydream about him being his own son. In his mind's eye the boy was always Kim's, never Katherine's, but he'd really never dwelled on it, never realized it could have been some innate sense telling him to wake up and realize the possibilities; hind sight was always twenty-twenty.

When he didn't elaborate further she added, "David was also well equipped to handle any…" She paused and considered her words, "Aaron is the son of two powerful Rangers. Side effects of morphanological energy exposure in offspring are well documented. David was well equipped to handle any…"

"Side effects." Tommy finished for her. "Which Aaron has in abundance."

"Aaron's mother never left her Tommy." She explained, although she really didn't have to. "She remained a Ranger through Turbo. Apparently she continued to morph while pregnant and Aaron was sheltered on the grid."

Tommy nodded wordlessly, guilt and despair heavy on his shoulders. He was well aware of what happened when pregnant females morphed. The grid would never allow an unborn innocent to be endangered. It kept them safe and sound, although how exactly that happened he didn't know. The children were born extraordinarily healthy, although they often showed more than one mutation as a result of their morphanological gestation. They were like his Dino team; all had retained a fraction their powers, just not the ability to actually morph.

He would have been the better father for the boy, he realized bitterly, but David was a good second choice. The recognition that his shunning of Kimberly had not only lost him a decade with the woman he had always loved, but a chance at raising his nephew as his own son weighed heavily on him. Although he hated to admit it, Kim had been correct to feel that she couldn't come to him for help during that particular period of time, but she was wrong to think he would have refused her; he would have done anything to have had Aaron as his own. The thought broke his heart.

"Kimberly." Zordon called softly from above, redirecting their attention. "Was the continuum aware of your transplantations?"

"My directive was to use my innate talents to stabilize the timelines and maintain the balance of the continuum by any means necessary." She replied.

"Was the continuum aware of your transplantations." Zordon insisted gently.

"My actions have always been in alignment with the work assigned." She responded, and both Curtis and Tommy felt an uneasy chill creep down their spines.

"Kimberly…" Zordon insisted gently.

"Not…always." She admitted sheepishly.


	9. Chapter 9: The Web We Weave

Hartland

By: KSuzie

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney except Ivan and Dulcea who apparently belong to Fox (who knew?), the Demon King is Daniel's (but I've changed the history a bit to fit my stories) and everything else belongs to me. Just to warn everyone, I've taken massive liberty with canon…again._

* * *

Chapter 9: The Web We Weave

* * *

"Damnit Rocco…" Curtis snarled, fists bunching dangerously at his sides.

"Miss Kimmee said no one Curtis; Not even her." Rocco responded calmly in his heavily accented, sing-song, lazy sort of way; infuriating his friend even more.

"She didn't know she was going to be gone this long." He argued heatedly. "Give me the same sort of password question that she asked you to give to her and let then me through."

"Miss Kimmee said no one Curtis." Rocco drawled, just slightly more forcefully than before. He was tired of standing. His feet hurt in his worn out old boots and his legs had begun to throb; still, he held to his post. No one, not even his friend, would get past him.

Curtis swore bitterly, causing the other man to raise an eyebrow in surprise. They had been arguing for nearly five full minutes and Curtis was becoming more upset and agitated with each word. True, Kim had said no one, but she also hadn't thought they'd be more than a few minutes. She and Tommy had gone to Ulysses's homestead, but he had declined to follow; choosing instead to return and check on Caroline.

Kimberly's revelations had brought out the protective streak he had for Kelly Ann's mother and he didn't bother to hide it now. She would become his wife, they'd raise her children together. In his mind, he now had permission to openly care for her; to love her. Rocco's dogged insistence on following Kim's orders to the letter frustrated him to no end. He was the leader of the Rangers on Earth, not her. They needed to follow his orders.

"God damnit let me in there!" He shouted, but although the other man shifted a bit at the uncharacteristic outburst, he remained in place.

Slowly, the door cracked open a bit from the inside and he moved as if to slip passed the other man, but again Rocco stepped in front to block his way; a mean, deadly wicked look he knew all too well threatening him not to even try it.

"Curtis go home." Alicia whispered in a harsh voice from behind the crack. "There's nothing you can do here tonight, both Miss Caroline and Doc are sound asleep…which is where you should be at this hour and you know it."

"How is she?" He asked in a worried voice, trying to catch a glimpse of anything in the room beyond the door.

"Sleeping as soundly as the Laudlum makes anyone sleep; how do you think?" She snapped back. "Now go home. You're not doing anyone any good here."

The door closed and Curtis exhaled heavily in exasperation. He wanted to see her, to sit with her, to hold her hand. In his mind she was already his, but reality told him differently. Her husband was still alive, he reminded himself bitterly. It was her husband that was supposed to have died, not the boy. The thought weighed heavily on him and again he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt at not having moved fast enough to save her son. Kim was going to fix it; had to fix it. Time had been disrupted and now her own future was in jeopardy.

Slowly, he turned and marched down the long hallway, through the kitchen, and out the back door to the alleyway. Slamming his hat roughly back on his head, he strode purposely toward the hitching post where Tiger was tethered. He'd go home, but he didn't have to like the idea.

* * *

"You overheard?" Zordon asked softly to the now quiet chamber as Alpha attached himself to his recharger and powered down.

"Yes." Primus rumbled in the darkness.

There was no visual to the communication; Zordon didn't expect one. Even as a youth he was rarely granted the privilege of a visual. It was the feeling that resonated behind the words, the strong reverberation within the Great Power, that confirmed his old master's identity for him. He simply knew within all his being that he had returned and was with him.

"I cannot say I approve, although I do not disagree." The voice resonated. "Many have tried the implementation of similar programs; most have failed."

"Kimberly has confirmed that all has not been in vain." Zordon responded evenly, as if justifying himself.

"The girl confirmed nothing." Primus returned. "I am not impressed."

"I have come to realize that she often surprises those who underestimate her."

"Then I shall withhold judgment." His old mentor rumbled apathetically.

* * *

Tommy was in a funk. As Kim sorted through Ulysses's tools, he found a small stool near the large stone fireplace and sank down, chin coming to rest on his fist.

His mind drifted over the previous ten years of his life, often tending to dwell on events that brought out the more morbid or resentful side of him. It would pass, it always did, but as he wasn't exactly necessary to the procedure currently being planned, he indulged himself the luxury of brooding; fully aware that he wouldn't allow it to last long.

He thought about his high school breakup with Kim, the new details he had recently learned, his high school relationship with Katherine and their disastrous breakup in college. He thought of his tenure racing cars for his uncle, being forced to give it up in pursuit of Mesogog, then of the Serpentera mission with the other reds and his blowout with Kimberly afterward that led to nearly a decade of silence between them.

Life had been relatively good to him, he realized that. He had been raised in a stable and loving home, he was well educated, his inventions had made him financially able to do the things he needed, he had friends, he had an enviable and high ranking position with the Rangers, a wife he adored, but it had also been pretty shitty to him as well over the years and this was what he now gave himself temporary permission to feel sorry over.

Kimberly had been taken from him; ripped away as if she'd never existed. True, he had gotten her back, but they had lost more than a decade of life together. She would outlive him, he knew that. Her Muirantian genes would allow her and Jason to live ridiculously long lives, but his own life would expire in just about half a century, give or take, and he resented losing out on a precious decade with his wife when there were alternates somewhere out in the vast universe that got to stay together the whole time.

He resented the events that separated them, resented them trying to appease him with Katherine, resented the whole Muirantian episode, resented screwing up and trusting Antoine Mercer with technology that led to the creation of Mesogog, and most of all, he resented losing out on the chance to raise his nephew as his own.

The logical side of him realized he was being morose, but he couldn't help it; he loved that boy. He realized then that-that was what was bothering him. Understanding the problem, he knew the funk would soon lift, but like a little boy pouting over a restriction, he held onto it for just a little longer. He would have been the much better parent, he thought bitterly to himself. Not that he could have been anymore loving and devoted than his brother was, but Aaron was much more like himself than David.

As much as he loved his brother and as much as they shared the same sense of extreme loyalty and need to succeed, they were both very different in their approach to living life. Tommy hated to lose, hated it with a passion, but he also had an ability to step back and appreciate the talents and hard work of others. This was why he and Jason had remained friends when Tommy had been given Jason's place as leader of the Rangers. He appreciated Jason, could accept the areas where his friend was genuinely better than he was and had an honest sense of wanting to learn from the former leader of the Mighty Morphins to make himself stronger and better.

You couldn't teach David anything. David knew it all and if he was ever proven wrong or second best would become angry and resentful. He would sulk and slip away to try and figure out how to be the victor in the next round. Often times, Tommy simply let him win or have his way just to end whatever rivalry had sprung up between them; and there were far too many of those petty contentions to count.

David was his only living flesh and blood and Tommy loved that bond as much or more than he did his brother, but he was not blind to his brother's faults. What made others consider Tommy the greatest Ranger was his ability to inspire and encourage the finest in others. David always had to be the best, always had to be the winner, and that was exactly what he was teaching Aaron.

Tommy hadn't understood his wife's almost instant devotion to the boy and certainly hadn't understood the boy's immediate reciprocation of it. At the time, he knew the boy as his brother's son and he simply didn't understand how the two could be so attached. He wasn't jealous per se, but it seemed like the boy was perpetually wrestling him for his wife's affection; even going so far as to beg her to marry David instead of him. His brother had found the whole thing highly, and almost smugly, amusing; Tommy did not. He had spent years ignoring his brother's competitive nature and it simply didn't sit well with him to see it developing in his nephew.

As he watched Ulysses and Kim sort through various odd and strange devices, he wondered how differently things would have turned out if Kim had felt she could have approached him; if he had been given the opportunity to raise the boy. The thought sunk him further into his melancholy and he frowned deeply.

* * *

William watched Curtis storm out of the kitchen, then heaved a huge sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically and shaking his head slowly back and forth. He'd been standing by in case Rocco needed him, but he hadn't really felt the leader of their team would actually come to blows with the other red. Curtis was usually more level headed than that, but then again, Miss Caroline was involved and that was generally enough to send their leader into a temper.

Allison emerged from the narrow hall soon after with a hot kettle that smelled heavily of one of Abrahams teas, and smiled softly at him before hoisting it up to the black pot-belly stove top. Grinning mischievously, he stole a clandestine glance down the now quiet hall, then slipped up behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her tiny waist and burying his head between her neck and shoulder. She jumped, but not at his touch. Quickly checking to make sure no one had followed her down the hall, she turned in his arms and signed nervously that there were too many people in the house and he should let her go.

Signing back silently in the dim lamplight, he reminded her that everyone was holed up in the sick-room with Caroline except Rocco and Rocco already knew what they were up to. She shot him a look that clearly meant he should behave, but he took advantage of the fact that she had turned to read his signs and slipped his arms around her once again, this time pulling her close and leaning in to kiss her soundly.

She made a token effort to resist, that's what good girls were supposed to do, but then easily melted against him with the comfort of long association, wrapping her arms around his neck and returning his enthusiasm with her own. It had been a long, emotional day and both seemed to need the contact, easily merging together and sharing in the comfort of a physical closeness that, although deemed daring by the values of their contemporaries, would have been considered chaste by standards of generations to come.

Both knew the kiss was prohibited, let alone the clinging to one another that tended to accompany such actions; neither cared. William was nineteen, old enough in nineteenth century Angle Grove to head his own family, but Allison was only barely sixteen, so they were very careful. Besides, both knew that Doc would not approve if he knew.

Although he loved Allison like a daughter, both children knew that Doc had plans for his youngest son that didn't include a deaf girl as a wife. William was the only son remaining in Angel Grove and, although he had very little love of medicine, it was both expected and required that he become a doctor and take over his father's practice. Only Doc's failing health had prevented William from shipping off to college in St. Louis the year before.

Doc considered Allison a good girl and, for the most part, part of the family, but he certainly didn't think of her in terms of being a good spouse for his son. She worked in the kitchen and helped in the infirmary and that was about the extent of her role in their lives.

When she was still alive, William's mother had hoped her youngest son would grow up to marry her friend's middle daughter. Unfortunately, William had proved sickly and frail and the family hadn't been much interested, but that had changed in recent years once Rangering had strengthened him and filled him out. In all honesty, Doc really didn't care one way or another, but he figured he'd send his youngest boy off to college and he'd find a good, upstanding girl to marry like his brothers had or he could come back and marry the girl his mother had picked out for him. The only caveat was that he made sure William knew he had to return to Angle Grove.

William, however, had no such compunctions. He'd been in love with the pretty blond haired, blue eyed Allison ever since her parents had dropped her on his father's doorstep. She'd been as pretty as a porcelain doll baby and one look from her sky blue eyes could still turn him inside out and sideways. His father, however, had made it very clear that he was to have no such thoughts about the little deaf girl. William was from a good family, even if they lived on the outskirts of nowhere, he was to find a wife from a similar place in society; Allison's parents had been illiterate Irish immigrants and dirt poor.

As the kiss came to a slow and reluctant end, he let his mouth trail down her long neck, then back up to the ear hidden behind a tumble of wayward blond curls, wishing for the millionth time that things could be different. Sixteen was young for her to marry, but not unheard of. He kept hoping his father would change his mind, but every conversation of the future seemed to entail a lecture on him going to medical school and finding a good wife to bring home or coming home to marry Lizzie Bernards…as if he had any interest at all in the high and mighty, stuck up, daughter of Angel Grove's mayor.

He moaned in protest as she firmly pushed him away, nuzzling her neck one last time before reluctantly stepping back to collect himself. Regretfully, he let her pull away and busy herself with picking up an already clean kitchen; his heart clenching at the surreptitious looks she shot down the hallway. Someday he wouldn't have to stop with stolen kisses, someday he'd be able to whisk her away to their own private room where he could kiss her and love her all he wanted, someday he wouldn't have to hide and hope nobody noticed…someday.

* * *

"So you're positive he's the one the continuum sent back?" Kim asked as she sorted through boxes of various devices that Ulysses had brought up from his cellar. They were ancient and so unusable it was almost comical, but Zordon had asked him to help her and she did her best to appear appreciative of his effort and council.

"He said so himself." Her friend responded, placing his pipe back in his mouth and clamping down on it audibly with his teeth.

"Just because Netau claims something, doesn't mean it's necessarily true." She muttered, causing his bushy eyebrows to raise a little. "I realize that's a novel concept in this timeline, but it's a sad fact in mine."

"So he's in charge of you?" He asked, glancing back at her husband to determine if the younger man could hear them or not. He looked worried and Ulysses couldn't really blame him. He was worried about Kim's actions and behavior as well.

Ulysses had served the continuum for a long time, both as a field agent and as a moderator. Corruption was nothing new to him, he figured he'd seen it all in his tenure, but Kim's attitude toward it concerned him. She seemed to regard it as simply a normal state of affairs instead of a rarity. It didn't surprise him that the forces of evil were cheating or that she had been sent back to combat that cheating, but it did surprise him that she would chose to cheat to remedy the situation. Under normal circumstances, he would have turned her in. He wouldn't have liked it, he would have felt guilty for the rest of eternity, but he would have held firm to his beliefs and his moral duty as a moderator.

However, this was not a normal circumstance. Zordon himself had asked him to aide her and had even hinted that one of the great ancestors had a hand in this "patching" as Kim called it. The thought of a being older and greater than Zordon himself, a being who had actually trained his mentor as a youth, returning to repair the double Equaline wave was tantamount in his mind to the ushering in of the end of the known universe. Why else would a being involved in starting it all actually return from the beyond? He shook his mind clear. If it was really the end of the universe, Kimberly wouldn't be sent in to try and help fix it. Still, it unsettled him to know there were beings greater than his old master alive and well and actively manipulating the strings of fate.

"Not exactly." Kim answered him. "Netau is in charge of the multidimensional period of time that existed a decade before a keystone event called the Z Wave and a decade after. I just happened to have zero lined there, to have been born and lived through that period."

Ulysses nodded in understanding. A zero line was the dimensional line a mortal being was born to. They had to follow out that history as well as serving the continuum in others. As part of her birth-line Kim would have continued to look toward Zordon as her master, not Netau. He could see how that would rub against the other guardian.

"I'm also better at fixing things that go wrong in that particular period; even though I'm associated with it." She admitted, still sorting through his crates. "He doesn't like that very much, especially when the moderators and Inquisitors send me to do something and don't bother to inform him."

The older man snorted derisively. Guardians tended to be a jealous lot. He hadn't liked it either when he felt his turf had been encroached upon by others; that in itself spoke volumes and explained most of Netau's angst. "Why would the moderators send him back this far then?" He asked. "Do you think he's lying?"

Kim shrugged. "Equaline waves are unpredictable. The continuum probably had to act fast. They needed someone senior and with a lot of experience and he was probably in the right place to get noticed."

"Why send you back as well?" Tommy asked from the fireplace, confirming to Ulysses that the young man had exceptional hearing and he needed to watch what he said around him.

Kim turned to regard her husband. She had her own ideas of why she would also be sent back, but, although she trusted her friend, it was not enough to reveal everything to him. She was fairly certain Netau was sent back because he'd caused the original disruption. She could see the markers of an altered history line between the nineteenth and twenty-first century; every alteration had been specifically made to deliberately prevent her birth. That took someone with a definite grudge against her, one ruthless enough to try and erase her from history, as well as a great deal of skill and talent; there just weren't that many in that category who could pull off such a masterful alteration. She had probably been sent back to make sure he actually fixed things and got the job got done correctly. The fact that it was Ulysses that had come to bring her back, and now had no memory of doing so, bothered her, but that particular problem wasn't critical to the one facing her; so she pushed it aside from her thoughts.

"The first repair probably didn't work." She answered absently. "That happens sometimes. A guardian is called in to fix something and it doesn't work or work well enough. Time is running out, so the moderators send someone else in a little before the first repair is made to try something else. That's why I have to work fast."

"What do you think he did wrong?" Ulysses asked, regarding her carefully. She hadn't said exactly what was on her mind and he began to wonder if Kim had really been sent back to refurbish a tarnished timeline or to fix a wayward guardian bent on tarnishing the continuum's reputation. Netau was corrupt, the moderators of her time zone couldn't be oblivious to that.

He wasn't entirely sure what she did for the continuum, but she was demon spawn. She didn't work for the side of evil, which was a rarity, but she would be a good choice to send in against it. A corrupt guardian was a difficult force to contend with. Neither side of the continuum liked to admit it's agents could turn; most were quietly disposed of. Being the daughter of Maligore, but having turned her back on that birthright, Kimberly would be an ideal sort of creature for that kind of assignment. The thought made him shiver. He'd never met a Divestor, couldn't imagine his friend as one, but it would make sense.

Kim shrugged again casually as if it didn't really matter; a bit too casually. "My guess is, he tried to fix Junior's absence by marking Kelly Ann." She murmured and Ulysses nodded as if that made perfect sense to him. "That's why he caught her and then let her go so easily." She added.

"What does that mean?" Tommy asked, rising from his stool and walking over to them. He was done moping. He needed to shake himself out of his bad humor and the best way he knew how was to dive into something else; preferably an assignment and Kim's would do nicely.

"That would be the easiest thing to do." Kim explained, turning to him. "We can't change that Junior died… well, we could, but that brings up all kinds of issues that no one really wants to delve into. What needs to happen is to nudge the future timeline, get it going in the right direction, not with this generation, but the next. The easiest way to accomplish that is to mark a child who's located in the right place and come back to that child when she grows up."

"And do what to her?" He asked, frowning. He wasn't sure he liked where the conversation was going.

"And make sure Junior's future children are born into this world alongside hers." Ulysses answered frankly and Kim nodded.

"That's the easy fix." She confirmed, "But it won't work in this case."

"Why-ever not?" Ulysses asked, genuinely confused. The method she described was the time-honored method. There wasn't much else that could be done short of transplantation, but that was extremely risky.

"Jr. didn't live very long, but he had a huge impact on the family." She explained. "His wild ways caused Curtis to be a stricter parent with my grandfather, who was raised on the ranch after Junior died suddenly. Curtis also instilled in him a huge love of the land; he won't get that with Kelly Ann mothering him. She moved back to Chicago with her husband and the children born to her there had very little connection to Angel Grove. The grandchildren in Chicago also had very little weight on deciding the fate of the property when Curtis died. It was my grandfather that kept the ranch running as long as it did."

"What else do you have in mind?" Ulysses asked cautiously, eyes narrowing. He had a feeling he was about to be introduced to Kim's real work within the continuum. "Marking the girl's basically your only option right now."

Kim regarded her old friend for several long seconds, wondering if his loyalty to Zordon would really win out over his loyalty as a moderator to the continuum. She doubted he knew their mentor's real role in manipulating the fabric strings of time and space, but it really didn't matter. If she didn't interfere, she would never be born and her work in the universe would be wiped away by the Equaline wave. On the other hand, if she did interfere and Ulysses didn't heed Zordon's directive to remain quiet, she would be damned by the moderators and handed over to the inquisitors for adjudication and punishment; no one ever won those trials and there were no appeals.

"Using Kelly Ann as the patch is sloppy." She answered. "It shows a distinct lack of any innate feeling toward the workings of the universe. The best way is to cross dimensions and find a closely related world who's history ends within a decade or so from the time period we're in now. If I can find a pregnant Caroline and transplant the fetus from one mother to the next…"

"Do you have any concept of how dangerous that process is?" Ulysses roared indignantly. What she was talking about was completely illegal and only utilized under extreme circumstances. It was rarely approved and if it was, it was only after careful deliberation by the moderators and endorsement of the Adjudicators. "You could completely destroy the Balance!"

"It's only a matter of matching the harmonic resonance of one alternate dimension to another." She replied dismissively, as if it were of no great consequence.

"It's impossible to pull off safely." Ulysses blustered. "It takes a panel of masters, working in tandem and even then…"

"No it doesn't." She answered quietly, but firmly, looking directly at him and meeting his eyes with the hardest look he'd ever seen from her. "It simply takes a creature genetically bred and trained to accomplish for Zordon what a committee won't; specifically…me."

When he reared back, looking at her in absolute horror, she sighed deeply and shook her head, adding, "Ulysses, you were a moderator far too long not to know that the continuum works on many levels. What do you think Zordon's been doing on this backwater for the last ten thousand years… retiring? Do you honestly think he'd simply sit back and put his trust in a continuum that has its own agenda? No, he's been hard at work over the last few millennia making sure the universe is ready to protect itself when evil makes its next big move. He's been building grids, building infrastructure, manipulating the human genome on this planet to better accept morphanological harmonics; making sure we're prepared even though the continuum's had its head in the sand for ten thousand years."

"Zordon was trapped in his interdimensional warp by Rita." Ulysses spat back. "His plasma tube had to stay on Earth, it's the only location in which we're able to always clearly establish contact and communicate with him."

Kim inhaled deeply and then let the breath go slowly, as if dealing with someone who simply didn't understand the complexities of things. "Zordon wasn't trapped." She answered resignedly. "Rita sealed him inside a loop within the Q9 warp coordinate which disassociated him from his body in a process very similar to the one used against Queen Bansheera. Alpha was able to create the plasma tubes to communicate with him, tubes that allowed us a visual of his spirit, but he was never really limited to just this planet. Utilizing the tubes, his spirit was very much able to travel to KO-35 when the Astro Rangers needed him and still be back in time to aide Earth when Alpha sounded the alarm that Rita had broken free. He only kept Alpha and his Power Chamber here so he would left alone to his work."

"But in our time, Zordon needed Lerigot's magic to free him from the warp so he could return home to Eltar." Tommy interjected.

" I doubt that was the case." She countered, giving him a sardonic look.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

Kim shrugged again. Looking through the various items in the crate instead of at her husband, she added. "I think, although I can't prove it, that when Ivan returned and destroyed his plasma tube, Zordon's body was pulled from the warp and reunited with his spirit, just like Bansheera was. I think Ivan somehow physically transported him here to Earth where he began to age rapidly. Remember, he was physically present with us for a while and very weak and frail. Ivan was far more powerful than Lerigot. Bansheera was a demon, her body didn't age while disassociated; it still needed recharging though. Zordon may have been Eltaran, but he was still human and human bodies age whether trapped in a warp loop or not; Dulcea has the same problem facing her."

At Ulysses's disgruntled frown at her revelations, she turned to regard him impatiently, "Yes, that's a future you shouldn't know about, you shouldn't also know that Tommy was the one to finally destroy Ivan, well…he liquefied him back into his primordial ooze and froze it to the surface of a runaway comet, but I already told you that story long ago on our first mission together."

"That's the Tommy that destroyed Ivan?" Ulysses asked, looking the younger man over as if re-evaluating his opinion of him.

"Of course that's the same Tommy," She snapped impatiently, "You think I know a lot of Rangers named Tommy? …don't answer that." She mumbled, shaking her head; it was pounding again and she lamented not having Alpha check her over before leaving the Power Chamber. She didn't feel right. She was more irritable than she should be. Something was off, but she couldn't place what. She hoped it was simply time disorientation and sleep deprivation, but the warm burning behind her eyelids warned she was developing a slight fever and that never boded well. A fever was a prime indication that her powers were growing or changing again and more often than not she'd lose most of her control over them until the mutation had stopped. This was the worst possible time for something like that to happen; she had work to do and had to do it quickly.

Turning to her husband she added, "I think Zordon needed Lerigot's magic to physically be able to leave the surface of the planet after Ivan weakened him. Once Ivan pulled his body from the Q9 warp, it was too hard to sustain it; even by using the plasma tubes to imitate the suspension he'd been held in. His body was too old, too frail, it was failing…you could see it if you knew the signs to look for. The image of his face within the plasma tubes began to look different, as if he was strengthening it by superimposing another image; his voice even echoed differently in the years after that. Didn't you ever notice it?" She asked, and when her husband nodded, she continued, "His whole existence had been devoted to waiting for the Demon King to re-emerge and try to take over the universe again. Remember, The Demon King was never conquered, just trapped. The greatest fear of Zordon's generation was that he would escape to doom the universe. Zordon was completely dedicated to making sure that didn't happen. That's why Jason and I were allowed to be taken to Muirantias; to boost our powers. Together with you and all the others, we might have a chance to do what his generation couldn't."

She paused and gathered her thoughts, a deep frown creasing her forehead. "He was incredibly frustrated that he hadn't been able to destroy the Demon King and his followers. I think he felt that, if he was going to survive in this plane of existence long enough to face his mortal enemy again, he had to find a way to make his failing body whole again; so he had to go and find the answer."

"You don't believe the story that he was homesick?" Tommy asked wryly, a slight grin and twinkle to his eyes indicating he hadn't believed the party line handed to the Rangers either.

She shot him a frustrated look, then continued her search through useless items in hopes of finding something, anything, that would aide her in her next task. Crossing dimensions was hard enough, crossing time and dimensions while searching for a place that harmonically resonated with your own in order to find one specific being that could be seamlessly transplanted was mindboggling. She needed to give herself a head start as well as several back-up options.

"Zordon has too high a value on life and free will to deliberately alter the human genome simply for a tactical advantage over an old and vanquished enemy." Ulysses mumbled irritably. "He'd never do it. It's…it's… well at best it's unethical."

Giving him a hard look that clearly stated she felt him to be incredibly naive, she replied, "Here on this backwater, far removed from anyplace the galaxy considers mainstream, modernized, or even third world, more grids and grid portals have spontaneously formed in the last seven thousand years than anywhere else in the galaxy…you think that's a coincidence? You think it's a fluke that in the last two hundred years of our evolution, Earth humans suddenly and inexplicably evolved into the most morphanologically compatible species in the known galaxy? Six thousand years ago Zordon had to purposefully and deliberately alter your DNA to get a morpher to accept you Ulysses. Earth humans were the least compatible in the known universe. But in a short one hundred years, just in time for the Demon King's vortex prison to begin cracking, this planet will know more teams of Power Rangers than all other worlds in the known galaxy combined."

"Migrations…Colonists with strong morphanological markers, who would be naturally drawn to Zordon's proximity, simple inbreeding with the a local population that had uncharted predispositions to begin with." Ulysses stammered. "For generations people have felt protected by Zordon's presence. They migrate here from all over. When that happens their descendants procreate…Kimberly, what you're talking about his highly illegal under the terms of the Edict. Zordon would never, under any circumstances, stoop so low as to… "

"Oh please." Kim spat, tossing a metal object unceremoniously back into its wooden crate. "With a few notable exceptions, for the last several thousand years the galaxy has considered Zordon nothing but a legend… Maybe, just maybe, I'll give you that he was trapped by Rita for the first two thousand years or so, but after that, there's no doubt he continued on with his work here on earth."

"So you're saying you're the culmination of some type of long term breeding program?"

"Among other things. Look, I don't think it's a coincidence the Mighty Morphins were in the exact right place, at the exact right time, and the exact right age to fight Rita when she broke free. I also don't think it's a coincidence that the morphers took on their first try, that replacements for the team just happened to be readily available…replacements that also had no trouble morphing on the first try…and all of us.." She paused and gave her husband a significant look, "With maybe a few exceptions, are all descendents of known Rangers that fought on known earth teams."

"And this is supposedly what he uses you for in your time?" Ulysses asked in a horse tone, indicating her preparation for an unauthorized mission. He sank into a nearby chair and glared at her accusingly. "Going behind the continuum's back? Manipulating things as he sees fit instead of by the laws of the Great Balance?"

The realization that she might be right was devastating. Zordon had helped to orchestrate the Continuum. He was one of the few beings in the universe everyone assumed they could always trust. To hear that he was anything but the pinnacle of all moral aspirations was unsettling.

"I fix things for him." Kim admitted. "He put me in charge of repairing the things that have gone wrong over the years."

"That's comforting." Her friend replied sarcastically. "You realize what will happen when they find out. They won't blame Zordon girlie, they'll blame you."

"I'm a Ranger." She responded seriously. "We do what we have to do."

She shrugged as if dismissing the conversation and returned to the items packed within the straw filled crate. Ulysses stared at her incredulously for a few moments, then returned his pipe to his mouth with a loud chomp and slunk down in his chair.

"What will happen?" Tommy asked, his frown deepening. The facts in Kim's outburst weren't unknown to him. Zordon had been quietly manipulating things around him for many, many, millennia, but the extent of his dealings was only apparent in that the absence of them was so obviously noticeable upon his death. All fully realized that what occurred during his lifetime might never be fully realized, but he doubted Zordon ever intended it to be.

When Kim didn't answer him, he turned to the old man puffing in irritation on his ancient pipe. The man met his eyes, briefly relaying his agitation and dismay, then looked roughly away, muttering "Don't ask."

* * *

"Mr. Carson I presume?"

Francis raised bleary and red rimmed eyes, rearing his head back drunkenly at the sight of the albino. He wondered briefly if it was the whiskey that made the man's eyes appear to glow yellow, with snake like slits where the pupils should have been, then decided not to bother wondering. Angel Grove was the center of all eeriness. Things had happened to him in the little dust ball of a town he was trapped in that belonged solely in Homer's Odyssey or the Iliad, No one would have believed him about those evil looking eyes anyway, so it didn't matter.

"Who wants to know?" He slurred spitefully, raising a brown glass bottle and downing several gulps of the home-brew Earnest swore up and down was good Irish whiskey. It wasn't whiskey he drank, he knew what whiskey tasted like, at one time had tasted the finest the world had to offer, but he was too drunk to care.

"I have a proposition for you Mr. Carson." The albino crooned softly, "One that will, shall we say, return you to your proper place in the scheme of things."

"What the hell do you know about my proper place?" Francis spat sourly. He'd been a wealthy man once, someone people admired, respected…well maybe respected was taking things a bit too far, but he'd been rich once. He hadn't had a care in the world until he'd grabbed himself a bit of saucy fun in the guise of one of his friend's little sisters. Now he was stuck in a pissant backwater with a frigid shrew of a wife, not a half-penny to call his own, and no son to carry his name on. Life sucked.

"Why don't I buy you a drink Mr. Carson." The other man continued amiably. "Perhaps something a bit more palatable than your… private label."

Francis snorted, loud and disgustingly. "Good one sirah!" He chortled, showing a dirty yellow and un-kept smile. "That's a good one… Private label…I haven't had a private label drink in…" He paused, not quite sure when the last time he'd had his father's private label; his brother's wedding? his wedding? The thought caused his inebriated mind to wonder randomly for a while in hopes of an answer, but in the end, his head simply wobbled vacantly on his shoulders.

"Mr. Carson?" The albino asked, just a hint of irritation in his voice.

"Yeah?" Francis slurred in return.

"You were about to allow me to purchase you a drink."

"I was?" He asked, then, when the albino nodded, seemed to consider the matter. No one ever wanted to buy him a drink. "Ok." He slurred.

Netau smiled slowly and wickedly as Kimberly's ancestor rose unsteadily to his feet. He was a filthy creature, smelling of sweat and manure and cheap moonshine; completely unworthy of association. Under normal circumstances, he'd never stoop so low as to speak civilly to him, let alone offer him hospitality.

Catching Murdock's eye, he nodded once, indicating all was going as planned. If he had to repair the timeline, he thought bitterly, he might as well repair it to his advantage.


	10. Chapter 10: Change of Plans

Hartland

By: KSuzie

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney except Ivan and Dulcea who apparently belong to Fox (who knew?), the Demon King is Daniel's (but I've changed the history a bit to fit my stories) and everything else belongs to me._

* * *

Chapter 10: A Change of Plans

* * *

Curtis left Tiger hitched to the post and trudged down the wooden planks that served as Angel Grove's version of a sidewalk. He didn't want to go home just yet. Few people were out and about; the sun had set and most had gone home long before the regular night life emerged and started in earnest. Those who recognized him smiled and nodded, hopeful for a little more information on the day's events. Horace's barn had gone up again, a clear signal that Calamity and her Rangers were back in town, but he didn't stop for pleasantries; simply kept his course with the minimum polite response.

He was not a drinking man, but every once in a while he indulged himself…besides, it had been a while since he checked in with Earnest and the bar-keep would be waiting for instructions now that the Rangers were back. Entering the saloon, he paused briefly and surveyed busier than usual scene, freezing as his eyes caught sight of the albino, seated at a back table with an obviously drunk Francis Carson. Netau's head rose slightly, then turned slowly in his direction; indicating he was very much aware of his scrutiny. He scowled at the evil looking creature, eyes hard and cold, but Netau's lips merely curled upward in a small, silent taunt of a grin.

Snapping his eyes away, he made his way to the long, highly polished wooden bar, unleashing his angst in the form of a deadly scowl toward a stranger that dared to give him an unwelcome look. The man made a clearly audible slur about half-breeds stinking up the local establishments, but moved on quickly enough when Earnest approached and threatened to toss him out. Curtis sighed in resignation, but kept the movement concealed. The remark stung, but he refused to let it show.

"Sorry about that Curtis." The bartender offered, taking a glass from a stack on the opposite counter and wiping it with a clean towel before placing it in front of him. "Didn't peg him as causing any trouble."

Curtis shrugged as if un-phased, but the foulness of his mood had increased exponentially and radiated obviously outward. The dynamics of Angel Grove were changing and he had yet to change with it. He was dressed well enough, still in the white shirt and dark pants he'd worn to the funeral, but he'd slipped into his old buckskin jacket and unbound his hair; allowing it to cascae down his back. He didn't think he looked anything remotely close to an Indian, but he knew how he looked to strangers. To the influx of eastern greenhorns arriving daily into their ever growing town, there was no difference between him and the savages of their storybooks.

"The usual?" Earnest asked, drawing him out of his thoughts. Curtis nodded and he reached below the bar and unlocked a small cabinet; pulling out an intricately carved crystal carafe of whiskey. The other man's mood was dark, which didn't bode well, so he slid the glass towards him and silently began to wipe his pile of clean glasses, waiting for him to initiate the next round of conversation.

"What's the albino doing with Carson?" Curtis asked softly, lifting the glass and downing the contents in one painful swallow; another bad sign.

Earnest looked up and regarded the back table as if only just now aware of its occupants. "Didn't notice Carson." He murmured, rubbing his double chin with a burley hand. "Nel pointed out the strange one about an hour ago. He's paying in old Spanish coins, but they're worth more than what he apparently thinks they are, so I told her to keep serving….friend of yours?"

"Hardly." Curtis sniffed, placing the glass back down with a thump.

Earnest nodded at him, silently registering what the other man didn't voice out loud. Curtis owned more than a half interest in his saloon as well as the attached "hotel" upstairs, he fully expected his silent partner to fill him in on Calamity's arrival and what to watch out for…eventually. The aging bartender had already heard she was in town, which would mean a boom in business. He'd heard the barn explode not too long after the funeral for the little Carson boy and, sure enough, the rush had begun well before the sun began to set.

Although no one in town could prove Curtis was one of Calamity's Rangers, and he'd never admitted anything to Earnest, it wasn't a stretch of the imagination to piece together that he was at least involved with them. She was supposedly his sister, after all, and he himself had been credited with more than one heroic deed since he'd ridden into Angel Grove. Regardless, if the white stranger had a grudge against the albino, that meant the odd looking man was on the wrong side.

"Want me to throw him out?" He asked cautiously.

Curtis fingered his empty glass, watching the legs of its contents slowly slide downward and settle into the bottom. "Watch them." He answered gruffly. "Let me know what they do."

Earnest nodded, glancing over to the far table again. "Want me to send Nell over?"

Curtis appeared to consider the idea, then shook his head. "Keep the girls away." He answered. Fingering his glass, he contemplated sliding it forward for a refill, but before he could weigh the pros and cons of a second shot against the possibility of having to morph again before sunrise, a surly voice interrupted them.

"I think you best be on your way boy." It growled in a thick baritone.

The noisy saloon silenced almost immediately and Curtis slowly turned. Behind him were three men, including the one who had muttered something against him earlier. They were all relative new comers to Angel Grove and he wasn't surprised.

"Mind your tongue Eugene." Earnest snapped, one hand carefully lowering the fancy bottle behind the bar, the other shifting a little closer to his concealed rifle. "Last time I checked, this was still my place, and I decide who stays and who doesn't."

"Since when do you serve his kind in here?" The one named Eugene snarled in a whiskey slurred voice.

"And what kind would that be?" Curtis asked calmly, opening his jacket and showing his holstered guns, knowing as he did so that he was only provoking the situation. Instead of answering, the man hesitated, taking in Curtis's deadly, gunslinger demeanor. Years of Rangering had thickened his build and there weren't many who'd openly challenge him to a brawl. Curtis could almost read the regret in the other man's eyes; he had more than he'd bargained for and he knew it. "Since these fellows are so interested in me, maybe you should introduce us Earnest." He added.

"We don't need no introducing." The second man offered, unable to see the hesitation on his comrade's face. Behind him, the man he'd displaced at the bar earlier slunk down and stepped back.

"Problems?" A new voice asked just off to the side Curtis's line of sight, bringing up the rear from behind the three men. This time, Curtis allowed his head to turn a little from the men, though he still kept a watchful eye on them through his peripheral vision. He hadn't heard Kimberly's husband approach, which surprised him a bit, but he knew the voice and relaxed a little. Not that he would have any trouble taking on three greenhorns in a bar brawl, but fighting damaged furniture and furniture was expensive; it wasn't good for business. With Tommy joining him, the men would be less likely to start anything indoors, if at all.

"No." Curtis answered blandly, muscles relaxing as the three men looked in confusion from one nearly identical twin to the other. The only difference was that Tommy, with his short hair and new clothes looked a whole lot more like civilized city-folk than he did; it pissed him off. "No problems. These gentlemen are rather new in town." He continued. "If I'm not mistaken, this one is Spencer Brent's new manager over at the lumber yard and this one," He continued, pointing a lazy finger at the second man, "I'm pretty sure just bought the old Henderson place last summer."

"Who the hell are you to…" The second man began, but he was cut off by a curt grunt by the first to shut up.

Curtis knew he should leave it be. The men were cornered between him, Tommy, and the wall. Both he and his newly appointed, so called, "brother" had the look of men that needed to be left alone. The first one had obviously reconsidered and the second was faltering now that his comrades had lost their nerve.

Both he and Tommy were armed, further discouraging the trouble makers, but for some reason, he was not in the mood to let bygones be bygones. He was itching for a fight and if it wasn't going to be with the albino, then it might as well be with three greenhorns who thought they could bully him.

"As a matter of fact," He added in his best gunslinger style, "These boys were just about to by the whole house another round."

The entire saloon was now deathly quiet. Not one sound of glasses clinking or chairs shuffling could be heard; all eyes were on the five men staring each other down. The first man glared angrily back at him, but he met the gaze coolly, almost mockingly, daring him to make a move. The comment had been as good as throwing the first punch. His companions shuffled nervously, looking back and forth between Tommy and Curtis. It was a showdown as good as any seen decades later on television and in movies and, for Tommy, seemed to drag on for an eternity. For a moment, Curtis thought the men would actually chose to fight it out, but they didn't. They backed away, almost in unison, and returned to their table.

"Earnest," Curtis said at last, breaking the silence. "Fill everyone's glass."

As he turned back around to the bar, Tommy caught his eye with a stern, disapproving look, but he didn't care. The day had been massively hard on him. He knew all too well that Rangers didn't pick fights, but he'd always been a bit of a rouge in that department. He tried hard to turn the other cheek, to hold to the higher ground, but he was a remnant of wilder days; days were a man earned his respect the hard way first, then through more altruistic deeds.

Still, he had to face the fact that Angel Grove was in transition. Old wooden shacks were being replaced with brick front stores and offices. There was the beginning of a wooden, deck-like, side walk lining the new section of town, there were fewer and fewer wagons and more carriages, and the people themselves seemed tamer. The women showed this change the most. Ten years ago Angel Grove's sparse female population could be seen in rough farm clothes and prairie bonnets, but more recently, ladies strolled the wooden planks with parasols and feather trimmed hats.

He realized was a relic, a hold-over. Very soon a decision would have to be made. He could either grow and assimilate, or he'd be pushed out. Given Kim's recent revelations, he supposed it would be the latter. As Tommy approached the bar next to him, he surveyed him. Everything about the other man spoke of civilized society. His hair was cropped short, his hands smooth, his nails clean. Still, he exuded the aura of a man not to be trifled with. Curtis had no doubt that Kimmee's husband could handle a weapon if needed, yet he doubted he'd ever used one outside of his Rangering duties. Perhaps civilizing himself wouldn't be all that bad; it was something to mull over anyway.

* * *

William contemplated following Kim's husband in search of Curtis, but thought better of it. She had come back to the house briefly and released Rocco from his watch, but she'd also warned them all to be cautious until she returned again. She was off again almost as quickly as she arrived and he had elected to stay home.

Part of it was that he was worried about his father's health and the strain the day's activities had-had on him, but part of it was that he was also nervous to leave Allison alone now that Sirus, Murdock, and their gang were back in town.

Sirus had never been known to behave where women were concerned and Murdock wasn't much better. Allison wasn't a little girl this time around. She was still young, but in the last few months she'd begun to fill out in all the places a girl should and she had slipped from the pretty porcelain doll look, to one that was very pleasing to many a male eye.

She turned and, realizing he was staring at her, silently asked what was wrong.

"You need to promise me you'll be careful." He signed back worriedly. "There's trouble again."

She smiled at his concern, but also shrugged it off. "I've been through it before." She signed back, sitting down at the long table and watching as he took a seat opposite her.

"It's different now." He replied. "You're not little anymore."

"I can take care of myself." She offered back confidently. "I'm not nearly as stupid as people think I am, you know."

William frowned deeply and shook his head. "That's not what I meant." He continued, uneasy with acknowledging his line of thought. There were some things you just didn't talk to a girl about, but Allison wasn't just anyone. She'd been his best friend growing up and they shared nearly everything together. Still, more recently things had turned from the comradery of friendship to something more. How did you talk openly to a girl about that something more?

"Listen to me." He signed back definitively, hoping she'd take him seriously and not laugh at him. "That's not what I meant." He began, pausing and thinking hard about what signs he wanted to use. There really weren't any signs to say he felt she was so pretty she was in danger of being carried off and raped; even if there were, he wasn't at all sure he'd have the courage to use them.

"Look…Sirus and Murdock, they'll…well, they'll…they're pretty bold. They'll be hanging around town looking for…company… kind of…" He signed in a stilted, stammering sort of way. Pausing, he brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed them, trying to buy a little time to think. "Just…If you can help it, don't go out alone and stick to the main roads…no short cuts, understand me?"

"Why?" She asked, genuinely confused. "It's not like the bad ones would ever seek me out, I couldn't talk to them if they did."

"I don't want anything to happen to you." He responded irritably, ears glowing a bright red in contrast to his light blond hair.

"What could happen?" She returned, frowning and not really following him. William had the easiest signs to read of anyone else she knew, but he wasn't looking directly at her and was shuffling around like he was embarrassed, making it difficult to understand what words he was stressing. She wasn't sure why he'd be uncomfortable, she'd already confided in him that she knew all about the Rangers. The others might still try to be discrete around her, but she already knew most of their secrets.

William growled in frustration, then stood and made his way to the other side of the table. Sitting down next to her, he paused, drawing courage, then said plainly. "You're growing up Allison and you're …pretty." He added shyly. "Sometimes, well sometimes…sometimes that could make a man look twice and…he might get certain ideas…if you were all friendly and all…"

Allison started in surprise as she realized what he was talking about. She wasn't nearly as naive as he apparently thought she was, which was a good thing as far as she was concerned, but this was a subject that was completely taboo. One that Alicia had very firmly refused to talk to her about. Frustrated, she'd finally resorted to stolen glances at Doc's medical journals late at night, but those mostly contained only technical litanies of diseases and obstetrics and, although she had a pretty good idea, she was still at a loss as to how it all really worked let alone the flirtations required to initiate or repel it. Good girls apparently didn't know anything about a man's affectionate attentions and to even ask about it had somehow branded her very brash in the older woman's eyes.

Allison was desperate for more information, but it was glaringly obvious that it wasn't a subject she couldn't talk about with other females, let alone William. She suddenly felt herself grow very flustered and embarrassed. On the one hand, she would dearly love to know how to escape the barrage of attentions that had drifted her way, on the other, wasn't it better that he think her completely ignorant? Didn't it make her one of those "undesirable" females for even acknowledging it?

Unfortunately for Allison, there was more than one man in town who thought if a girl couldn't speak, she couldn't tell. The trouble had started only four months before when the Henderson's had sold their farm to an eastern family of settlers and had grown steadily and frighteningly worse in the past few weeks. She rarely left Doc's home now unless she was in someone else's company, but Doc's health was visibly failing now and he depended more and more on her to run errands for him if William was busy or studying his assignments.

"What is it?" He asked, watching her reaction to his words closely.

Allison froze and watched him closely, panic beginning to stir in her stomach. She was head over heels in love with him, but she had no illusions. Doc was against his youngest son developing anything other than a sisterly affection for her. They already had to hide stolen kisses in the dark when no one was looking. William loved and obeyed his father, would he use the other men's lewd attentions as an excuse to be done with their clandestine activities? Would he scorn her if he knew the truth? That more than one so-called respectable citizen and family man had tried to force his intentions on her?

Other questions bothered her as well. Was she really the unprincipled girl Alicia seemed to think she was? She thought of herself as a good girl, but she also couldn't deny that she loved and encouraged William's advances; that was hardly propitious of her. She just didn't know.

She wanted to stop the interest of the other men, but at the same time wanted more of William's; often finding herself longing for him to pay her more notice than he did. It just didn't make any sense. From what she could piece together, if she was a good girl, she wouldn't want any attention at all; from anyone. A good girl submitted to her husband only after they were married. But she adored it when William kissed her and touched her, so did that make her bad? Perhaps she was. On the other hand though, if she was really one of "those" girls, would it really matter to her who's attentions she received? Wouldn't she want it all the time like the girls upstairs at Earnest's Saloon?

"Allison, what is it?" He signed again, more insistently.

"I understand you." She signed back, glancing at him quickly, then lowering her eyes in embarrassment as her cheeks flushed hotly. "I'm not a fool, I understand what men want, I know what kind of attention you mean."

William starred at her for several long seconds, wondering if it was his own pressing nighttime demands that had produced the guilty and uncomfortable look on her face or if , inconceivably, she was talking about the attentions of someone else. Finally, he pulled her arm until she looked at him again.

"What is it?" He asked pointedly, but she only shrugged and looked away from him. Fear crawled through him then, cold and wet, with unbearable foreboding. Pulling on her arm again, he asked, "What happened?"

She gave him a mournful look, which caused his stomach to sink even further. "Alicia says I'm never to talk about it. Good girls don't talk about it…to anyone."

"Talk about what?" He asked, though he honestly didn't think he wanted to know. "You can tell me anything." He added. "You know that."

Allison turned away with such a wounded and despondent expression that William's heart sank. He didn't want to know, didn't want to even think about it. The very idea that someone could have …. That he hadn't even noticed, hadn't stopped it, but when? how?

"Tell me." He signed insistently, firmly turning her around, concern for her clearly written in his blue eyes; fear and dread was quickly sliding into an unfamiliar mixture of anger and jealousy. If anyone had so much as made an unwelcome gesture towards her he'd…he didn't know what he'd do.

She turned her head and shook it, unwilling to read his fingers, although she already knew what he was asking. He insisted though, and eventually she took a deep breath, resigning herself to answer.

"Alicia says it's a woman that asks for it, that if I don't ask, they'd leave well enough alone." She explained, fingers hesitant and eyes desperately mournful, "But I don't ever ask, not ever William, you have to believe me, it's the truth. I understand gestures and body language better than anyone in town. I know I'm not…not…you know…asking…"

"I believe you." He responded, scooting his chair closer and torn between the desire to wrap his arms around her and the need to keep his hands free and stay far enough back to watch her words. He'd failed her, he didn't know how, didn't know when, but she'd needed him and he'd missed it. It had to have been when he was away at school, before his father had become so ill he'd had to be called home. Anger began to replace the foreboding. He'd find out who it was that was bothering her and he'd bloody the bastard.

"Alicia won't tell me what it is I'm doing wrong, she just says I must be wanting it cause they keep coming."

William froze. She'd said "they." Plural; there was more than one. "Who's they?" He asked, face hardening into such a scowl that she cringed involuntarily.

"It wasn't me, I swear it William." She signed hurriedly. "Yes, I admit it, I dearly like it when you kiss me, but I swear I can't stand it when they come at me…I get so scared…"

"Who's they?" He repeated firmly.

"You have to understand, they believe I can't talk, I can't tell."

"Who's they?"

"The worst of them only tore my dress, a few bruises, that's all. It never got to the point…I don't know, but Alicia said she didn't think… it's not at all like when you touch me…"

"Who's….they?" He growled, every inch the angry Ranger about to destroy his enemy.

* * *

"Zordon I need help." Kim pleaded, exhaustion seeping through her words. Her fever was rising, causing her thoughts to muddle and she knew she didn't have much time before she'd have to succumb to another mutation of her powers. "I've never done an embryo transfer before and it took far too much of my power to locate a suitable replacement. If I make even one mistake…there's no second chance with this."

"Kimberly I cannot assist you." Her mentor responded patiently for the third time. "This is not an issue of assisting a female with reproduction, this is an unauthorized removal and transplantation of a living entity; a clear violation of Continuum law."

"A violation that is necessary to stop the Equaline waves and a violation you yourself agreed needed to occur." She argued, unable to hold back her frustration.

"I understand." He responded softly, eyes sympathizing with her from his power tube.

"You understand that it has to happen but you won't risk responsibility for it." She spat, surprising herself with the amount of venom behind the words. "If I do it all by myself you won't be blamed for it; they'll only go after the wayward Ranger outside of her own time-zone."

"Kimberly," Zordon responded gently, "I cannot interfere. The powers that be within the Continuum pretend to ignore my existence while continuing to carefully monitor my experiments and influence. Although I long ago passed the torch of command, they vigilantly guard their own powers and authority and look upon the old guard with suspicion and jealously. Any assistance on my part would bring attention to and flag your efforts; putting you in greater jeopardy than you already are. You know what must be done and I have complete confidence your abilities will provide a successful outcome."

Kimberly stomped an impatient foot in irritation and closed her eyes; ignoring the burn of the lids against her eyeballs. She could feel the chaos of her system raging throughout her body. She knew the signs, knew the symptoms, understood that she had to take herself away from those she loved until her powers had calmed down. She'd soon be worthless to anyone; unable to do anything but writhe in pain until she could gain control over her mutinous body again.

Feeling her mentor's gaze upon her, she slowly reopened her eyes and regarded the old wizard carefully. There was a genuineness that resonated in his words, but something had been carefully omitted, the truth had been turned ever so slightly, twisted around a set of facts that had been left unsaid. It saddened her beyond comprehension. There was a time when she would have trusted Zordon implicitly, blindly accepting all the great being had to offer, but that time had passed. She mourned that innocence, grieved for that youthful faith that would never again be fully realized.

"Who pulls the strings behind your decision to sacrifice me?" She asked in a calm voice. The anger and frustration had passed, only a disenchanted acceptance of her fate remained. She knew, as Zordon did, that to transplant the embryo taken from an alternate universe into her own was a death sentence. She was being asked to sacrifice herself to save the universe from two out of control Equaline waves. As a Ranger, the choice was clear, as a human, the choice was devastating. She would lose all she loved, but the universe would go on without ever knowing how close it came to oblivion.

"No one is asking you to sacrifice yourself pink Ranger." He answered kindly, and she realized she had hit a nerve. Once again he'd side-stepped the question and refused to answer directly, but by addressing her as a Ranger instead of by her given name, he'd reminded her that her duty to the universe was clear.

She regarded him evenly, blinking every few seconds. No, no one was asking her to sacrifice herself. The choice was hers and hers alone, but if she refused, the future would be erased and the universe would be back to what it was before the Demon King had been banished. Humanity would be eradicated in countless dimensions; the forces of good would fail. There was no choice. She would perish if the continuum discovered what she'd done, when they discovered what she had done, but Tommy and the others would live on.

She lowered her head, silently digesting that she would act alone. No one would assist her in stopping the waves, and no one would come to her aide when the Continuum discovered what she had done. She was on her own.

Slowly, her eyes reopened and she raised her head, ready to acknowledge what was yet unsaid between them, but before she could, a bright red light flashed across the Power Chamber and alarms sounded. She and Zordon turned as one as a brightly glowing communications orb came to life and delivered its message above the blaring noise around them.

"Kimberly…" Kim's own voice began, "This message comes to you exactly three days into your immediate future. You have very little time to stop Netau…."

* * *

Curtis watched carefully as the albino patiently followed a stumbling Frank Carson out the swinging doors of the saloon. His gaze shifted over and met Tommy's, both men silently agreeing that they should follow. They rose as one and began to follow the unlikely pair out the door, but before they could reach it, they were intercepted at the entrance by Kimberly and the rest of the Western Rangers.

"What are you doing here?" Curtis blurted out before he even realized he'd vocalized his thoughts. "Who's with Caroline?"

"She fine." Kim said simply. "Everything's just fine, now if you'll just sit…"

"I'm not sitting anywhere." Curtis replied heatedly, eyes scanning his team. "All of you have assign…"

"Curtis… sit." Abraham interrupted in his thick, barking accent, placing his hand on the younger man's chest. "All is revealed in time."

The leader of the Western Rangers paused, evaluating the old man in front of him. As his eyes traced from the hand on his chest, to Kim's worried eyes, to young William's look of complete and barely contained murderous rage, he shifted gears and stepped back; willing to hold his peace until whatever had altered the plan revealed itself.

"Netau just left with Francis Carson." Tommy supplied, catching Kim's eye to gauge whether she was aware her ancestor was in serious danger. She nodded by way of answering and slipped past him, one hand taking his in a surprisingly firm grip and leading him back into the saloon with her.

The hand was burning hot and he blinked sharply, thoughts leaving the endangered man and refocusing on his wife. Questions assaulted his mind in lightening succession. She was sick, that was obvious, but how sick had she become in the last hour since she'd left him? Had she succeeded? Had she failed? Why had she corralled the Rangers in a very public saloon instead of the privacy of Doc's living room or the Power Chamber?

As she pulled him to a back corner table, his eyes scanned the other Rangers. They had grim expressions which didn't bode well. Young William was having an especially hard time concealing his angst. Tommy wondered what could have possibly happened to change the plans they had made not an hour before.

"What's going on?" He asked his wife seriously, as she released his hand and indicated he should take a seat. She returned a momentarily sorrowful glance that was quickly wiped away by a determined look he was coming to associate as her version of a no-nonsense command look.

"Change of plans." She said simply and indicated the other Rangers should also take a seat.


	11. Chapter 11: Poker

Hartland

By: KSuzie

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney except Ivan and Dulcea who apparently belong to Fox (who knew?), the Demon King is Daniel's (but I've changed the history a bit to fit my stories) and everything else belongs to my imagination unless otherwise indicated._

* * *

**Chapter 11: Poker**

* * *

**Author's Note:** In this chapter, the sheriff makes a snide remark about the White Stranger's supposed Greek origins and Mt. Olympus. The scene is a humorous poke at KJ's Ranger Scroll "Too Far Back" where the Zeo Rangers cross paths with Xenia, Warrior Princess (ever wondered why Callisto hated Carri?), which would otherwise not make any sense at all to anyone who hasn't read it. It's also a tiny nudge at a friend of mine who, while totally butchering another anime/super sentai's canon with a similar Herculean cross-theme, has a tendency to fall into frenzied vapors when the gospel of PR cannon is "tweaked" by blasphemous fanfiction fiends. Yes, it's silly, but it's all in good fun and all part of the "fanfiction discontinuity" that makes alternate universes so marvelously amusing to play in. And yes, if you missed my point, it has absolutely nothing to do with PR canon :o)

* * *

Netau snapped his hand in a dismissive gesture, scattering the thin green lines into a shower of yellow and blue pixie dust which danced merrily for a moment before dissolving into an illuminated mist; mocking him. He hissed a sharp intake of breath, the timeline had corrected itself. Not fully, the effects of an Equaline wave could never perfectly be undone, but astonishingly close. The precision of the correction astonished as well as frightened him; it had been masterfully done.

As he had not been the one to correct it, he assumed it was the work of the demon spawn. How she had managed to stabilize the timeline and keep it from snapping through the nineteenth century to the twentieth was too unfathomable to contemplate. She was simply not experienced enough to accomplish something that intricate. Fortunately for him, the second wave was still steadily moving forward and would soon overtake the first; eliminating the need for too much concern.

He turned and gingerly stepped over the floating hand of Francis Carson, sneering derisively as it lifelessly bumped against him in the shallow water of the creek. Carson was dead, without any chance of impregnating his wife and correcting the timeline naturally. That meant someone had directly interfered…or that Carson hadn't been Kimberly's ancestor after all. It was something to ponder, but not now.

"Pretty lights…" Boulder chimed in a deep, thick voice; boyishly clapping his massive hands like the imbecile he was as the last of the timeline illuminations melted into the dim moonlight.

Netau spared him a disgusted look as he turned his back on them and walked further up steam. "Stay in the water." He hissed.

He stopped and glared pointedly at the three local recruits Murdock had brought along. They were no better than drunken barbarians, scum of the town saloon, more than willing to beat Carson to death simply for the sport of it, but also more than eager to accept the hush money that accompanied the deed; filthy, despicable, and unworthy of his company.

"The sheriff might not have any love for your Mr. Trueheart, but he's no fool. No prints, not one. No evidence at all except what I've specified." He warned.

They nodded in unison, more afraid of the albino than the fact they had just murdered a man. Francis Carson was a bum, they had done the town a service by getting rid of him, but the albino wasn't someone you crossed and could easily turn them in for it.

Murdock also nodded in response, shoving both massive twins in the direction the albino had taken, then paused, his eyes narrowing as he took in the growing sliver of moonlight. Less than a week until full moon and with that moon the promise of his monthly metamorphosis. The hairs on his back shivered with anticipation, mouth salivating.

Netau had given him permission to take the three men who had killed Carson for them. The promise of an extended and bloody hunt thrilled him, but he suppressed the feelings. With one last glance at the twins to make sure they stayed on course, he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a few items. Carefully analyzing where the dead body lay in the shallow steam, he tossed them carefully to the ground where they'd be easily spotted in daylight. With one last glance at the moon above him, he turned and followed the others.

* * *

Tommy yawned deeply. He couldn't help it. It started as a little urge that he thought he might be able to satisfy by slightly stretching his jaw a little, but the moment he did, his eyes closed and his reflexes simply took over; it felt too good to resist.

He felt worlds better. Doc had given him some sort of "powder" and "bicarbonate" that seemed to cure whatever technology the Command Center's med-bed couldn't. His fever was gone, leaving only a dull stiffness and fatigue in his muscles, but the grandfather clock in the corner by the stairs had just struck four-thirty AM and he was tired. The saloon was quieting now, slowly but surely emptying as the sun promised to illuminate the sky once more and expose the more clandestine activities that only took place in the shadows. Empty, that is, except for the very noticeable presence of every single Western Ranger.

Just before ten the previous evening, the sheriff and a few of his deputies had strolled in and been pressed into a poker game that Kim had managed to draw out throughout the long night. Tommy thought the sheriff seemed more curious than surprised to see them. He got the distinct feeling that the other man knew exactly who his wife and her friends were, but although he eluded to it, he never came right out and openly accused them of being the Western Rangers; which in and of itself was curious.

It was an interesting dynamic. Kim openly despised the blond, lanky man Curtis referred to as Josh rather than by his title, but it was obvious the feeling wasn't entirely mutual. Tommy got the distinct impression that he loathed the Rangers, but he wasn't about to let that get in the way of flirting with Calamity Kim at any given turn. The fact that she had pronounced herself married didn't seem to matter that much either; even with Tommy right next to her. Nearly every sentence since he'd walked into the saloon had carried some sort of not so subtly veiled sexual innuendo.

At first it had infuriated him, then he began to realize the other man was purposely annoying her by goading him; watching them closely to see what would happen. The so called deputies with him would laugh and leer, exacerbating every insult in hopes of also igniting his anger. After a while, he realized what was going on and relaxed a little; fairly confident that the hatred dripping from his wife's eyes nullified any advance from the lawman.

As the minutes ticked by, he sincerely wished his wife would give him some clue as to why she'd effectively corralled them all in the saloon. It was obvious that she was letting the sheriff and his men win just enough to keep them interested, but it was also obvious to everyone that she was ill; which frightened him. It troubled him that, now that he was on the mend and feeling better, she seemed to be worsening. To complicate matters, she seemed to be losing control over her powers. Surprisingly, the sheriff and the others in the saloon didn't seem perturbed by the light shows that would spontaneously erupt about them or glasses that flew off tables to smash against the wall; this was Angel Grove, stuff happened when Calamity Kim was in town.

It bothered Tommy though. He still wasn't exactly sure how her Muirantian experience had changed her. He could never seem to get a direct answer. He knew she and Jason were no longer technically considered human, but Maligore's demon spawn, knew that she was considered to be no more than an adolescent in that regard and, like an adolescent, was still growing and changing, but he still didn't really know everything about her. For the most part, it didn't bother him, he'd never been around when she and Jason suffered their "phases" and ignorance really was bliss sometimes. Throughout the night though, she had struggled with the appearance that nothing was wrong, but it was obvious to all that something was. He wanted to help, but wasn't sure how, so he waited and watched, trying to stay alert as the minutes and then hours ticked by with hideous lethargy.

The sheriff and his deputies roared in celebration as they once again won the round of cards, causing him to blink sharply and refocus on the table. He watched as those Rangers still playing the game groaned and shot her aggravated looks. Realizing nothing had really changed, he leaned back in his chair and slowly closed his eyes in a gesture born more of impatience than fatigue. His wife wouldn't let anyone move out of site of the main room and it was becoming annoying. There hadn't been time to explain why; they simply trusted her and stayed put.

It hadn't exactly been an unproductive night. He'd learned more about Calamity Kim and her adventures in Angel Grove than he'd ever thought possible. Many of the saloon occupants, eager to learn more about the husband she'd brought along, who looked more like Curtis Hart than Curtis Hart did, were more than happy to by him a drink and regal him with more than one personally experienced escapade.

As it turned out, Calamity had saved her brother's, now flawlessly amended in everyone's story to brother in law's, ranch by proving he wasn't an illegitimate half breed who'd gained his wealth by gun slinging and robbing banks like the sheriff and a few former residents claimed, but he'd immigrated from Greece; which explained why the sheriff had talked to him in Greek earlier in the day. He was apparently, supposedly, the younger son of a very wealthy and high class family that had sent him to the eastern United States to be educated. Upon arrival in the country, he had become so enamored with it that he stayed, eventually moving west with a series of adventures and glorious deeds that would put Davy Crockett and Johnny Appleseed to shame.

It was completely preposterous, but the entire drunken congregation of the saloon jovially assured him it was completely accurate and less than half the whole story. There were many, many accounts of how he was great hero in his homeland, many of which were said to come from Calamity herself, and they were all more than willing to regale him with them. The tales became so exaggerated and so outlandish, with each towns-member trying to outdo the other, that by the end of the night Tommy wasn't a bit surprised when someone stood up and swore that Curtis had come from Mount Olympus itself. As a round of toast were given to Hercules and Homer and their own mythological hero, Curtis simply slid a little further down in his chair.

Occasionally, Tommy would steal an amused glance at him, but he simply sat and stoically played cards; never bothering to contradict them. He focused his attention on his cards, on the sheriff and his men, at trying to piece together William's uncharacteristically black mood and Tommy wondered if he was actually listening. It was surreal and, if he had to be honest, more than a little amusing; until he discovered his own name being tossed into the mythology. He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but long about midnight the population around him suddenly seemed to forget they were telling him the story and instead, began piecing him into it.

He squirmed uncomfortably as the crowd of story tellers took it upon themselves to explain how Calamity had "lost" her husband and how Curtis had done the honorable thing and supported and kept watch over his "sister." Not one sentence had any basis what-so-ever in reality, but no one seemed to care as the story grew bigger and more outlandish, finally ending with Calamity finding him again by way of a magic Chinese lantern, given to her by a mythical Indian spirit disguised as an old wolf, which would light up when she went the right way and stop glowing when she went the wrong way, right up until she stumbled across him taking a soak in a Chinese tub full of laundry at the edge of town.

"Is that how it happened Mr. Hart?" The sheriff asked lazily as the room quieted and the last of the raconteurs stumbled toward the exit; congratulating themselves on a story well told. The stub of his cigar was still clenched in-between his teeth as he spoke, eyes never leaving his cards as Calamity calmly dealt again.

"I doubt I could tell the truth so inventively." He answered dully. He was, unfortunately, well versed in folklore and these tales didn't sit any better with him than the ones created about him in his own time. In his home timeline he was referred to as "legend," as "Zordon's heir," as the "greatest" Ranger of all time. He wasn't sure what was so great about himself. He was human; he got lucky and he made mistakes…made a lot of mistakes actually.

Before he could ponder it further, William stood with an agry grunt and trudged to the bar. Finding it empty, he strode back, then shifted and paced to the large glass window and back again. Tommy watched the youth's agitated behavior, realizing both his wife and Curtis did likewise, then stood and made his way over to him.

"You alright?" He asked, motioning for the young man to take a seat at an empty table by the window. His wife had a disapproving look on her face, but they were still in sight of the main group, so he ignored her.

"Fine." William muttered unconvincingly, but took the offered seat across from Kim's husband.

"You want to talk about it?" He asked, just as if the boy were one of his students.

"No." The boy responded sullenly and a silence fell between them for a bit. "It's just that…" He continued, then hesitated, eyes coming up to meet the other man's. "You always loved Miss Kimmee right?"

The question surprised Tommy. It hadn't been the direction he'd expected at all. He'd expected the boy to be restless over the holding pattern they seemed to find themselves in. Kim had them all held in one place simply on the grounds that she wanted them to be there and they respected her wishes.

He watched the young man carefully for a few seconds, gauging again what was his place to say and what wasn't. True, he'd always loved Kimberly, right from the moment he'd seen her, but that didn't mean things had been easy for them or that they'd always been together. She'd floated tortuously in and out of his life for more than a decade before they'd finally forgiven each other the missteps of their youth and recommitted to spending their adult life together, but even now it wasn't easy.

"From the moment I first saw her." He answered, deciding to allow the boy to steer the conversation.

"You see? And you were real young too, weren't you?" He asked.

"Painfully." Tommy replied, grinning a little as he realized what was eating at the young Ranger.

"But you still knew you loved her right? It wasn't some puppy-eyed fairy tale that you were too young to know wasn't real, it was a real kind of grownup love, the kind where you settle down and start a family together."

"I don't know if we knew that at the time." Tommy supplied, thinking of their painful breakup and the years of misunderstandings and mistrust that followed. "Did Kimberly tell you we broke up at one point?"

"She said the Power took you in different directions, that you grew up along different paths, but that real love doesn't ever die… it follows you and stays warm in your heart no matter where you go or how long it separates you." He replied with conviction.

He'd grown up with the stories Calamity had told him; cut his teeth as a Ranger on the legend of Tommy and his magic sword Saba. Those tales hadn't ended with their campaign. He'd held on to them, re-told them over and over in his mind; using them as examples to guide his own life choices as he grew.

Tommy paused and regarded the boy, mulling over his words. He liked that thought and very much liked the fact that his wife had expressed it on a previous visit into the past when they couldn't possibly have reconciled yet. Yes, he had continued to love her, and she him, but neither had ever really thought they'd be able to put things back together and work it out again. He had been very much resigned to life without her. Aside from little daydreams, he hadn't even considered looking her up, but it was also true that he'd continued to loved her…pine for her… and that he hadn't really felt whole until they had found each other again.

"There's someone you like a lot?" He asked.

William shuffled and fidgeted, casting careful glances back at the other occupants of the large room. His eyes met Tommy's and he seemed to weigh his answer against some unknown restriction.

"Someone." He said cautiously, fidgeting with the wood of the table between them.

"And she thinks you're both too young to be serious?"

"God no…" William burst out with a heavy breath, then looked around again to see if the other's had heard him and lowered his voice; eyes meeting Tommy's with all the heart crushing despondency of a youth torn apart by forbidden love. "My father…he doesn't approve." The boy whispered. "I'm stuck. I mean, I want to please him, I owe him so much…but the kind of girl he wants for me isn't…I know what I want, who I want."

"Does she want you?" Tommy returned.

"Yes." The boy answered definitively, nodding his head several times.

"And do her parents approve?" Tommy asked, realizing the crux of the problem facing the boy.

"Aw, they wouldn't ever care. Truth be, I'm not sure I honestly know where they are now." He answered, surprising Tommy. "It's real love." William insisted earnestly. "I'm a Ranger, not some little school boy who doesn't understand the situation. I know what I want, that isn't gonna change by me leaving and going back east to school."

Tommy gave the boy a commiserative look, thinking quietly that distances did indeed change everything when you were young. Even though there were extenuating circumstances, distance had broken his tight relationship with Kim and pretty much also ended every other serious relationship he'd been in. He'd genuinely loved Katherine, but the distance put between them, first by her dance school in London and then his digs with Anton Mercer, had led to disastrous affairs by both of them. A third girlfriend he'd also become close to had also called it quits when he'd moved and begun chasing Mesogog. No, distance changed everything, but you really couldn't explain that to a youth who was completely enraptured by love's power for the first time.

"And now I'm in a situation where I can't wait, I need to marry her now." William confided. "I can't wait for my dad to come around and give his blessing, but if we just ran off… that would kill him… not to mention we'd be dead broke."

Tommy's eyes snapped up, immediately assuming the worst. The timeframe they were in was smack in the middle of the Victorian era; it wasn't like birth control was readily available. "You mean she's…uh…" he stuttered, wondering uncomfortably why he thought he should be meddling in the young Ranger's business. "She's…expecting?" He asked cautiously, wondering if he was phrasing it politely enough, considering the period.

Immediately William's eyes grew huge and his face bright red. "No!" He nearly shouted indignantly, but caught himself and lowered his voice again least he draw too much attention. "No." He repeated firmly. "That isn't why…oh Lord…" He groaned, wiping his hands over his face uncomfortably. "No." He said a third time, shaking his head. "I need to protect her." He said earnestly, eyes locking on the older man's once more. "She needs me. She needs a family. She…" He sighed heavily, not wanting to put into words what she had confided in him. "It's Allison." He admitted, eyes beseeching Tommy to understand. "There's been trouble. There's men in town bothering her…thinking they can rough her up and she can't tell. They'd leave well enough alone if she was a married woman instead of simply some little serving girl that works in Dad's clinic."

Tommy sat back a little in his chair, relieved the situation wasn't going to involve giving the kind of advice he didn't feel he had any place giving. If he remembered right, Allison was the young blond girl at Doc's that had brought them dinner and then disappeared into the kitchen. She had spoken to Kimberly in sign language, which meant she was either deaf or couldn't speak using her voice.

"Is that the only reason you want to marry her?"

"Lord no." William returned adamantly. "All I've ever wanted…since we were just little kids…I've always loved her Tommy, just like you always loved Miss Kim."

Tommy sighed heavily, stalling while he thought over what to say to the boy. Teenaged problems were always just as legitimate as adult problems, it was just that they generally didn't have the life experience yet to realize that most problems weren't nearly as urgent as they sometimes thought. It was difficult to offer advice to them, especially when that advice suggested they think twice or wait.

"Have you tried talking to your father?" He asked after a long moment of silence.

"My father doesn't approve." William replied heavily. "You have to understand, he may have come west thirty five years ago, but he's from a very wealthy family back east. My brothers all went back east and to Europe to go to school and find their wives, my sisters all married well, he expects me to do the same. Allison's deaf, her parents are Irish immigrants. He cares about her, he's raised her since she was a baby, but he's made it very clear that I'm to leave her alone and look elsewhere…I'm the only one to stay in Angel Grove, I'm the only representative of the California branch of the family." He explained.

Tommy frowned as he mulled over the social differences between his own time zone and the one he now found himself in. It was one thing to read about the social prejudices of times gone by, to know their shadows still lurked, often not so shallowly below the surface, even in his own era, but it was very different to live through them, blatantly confronting them at each turn. He was in no position, he realized, to offer the boy any advice. He knew what he'd tell his students in Reefside, knew how he'd handle the situation if it occurred in the intergalactic community, but in his home world's past, he was at a complete loss.

"Let me talk to Kim." He said at last. "Let me tell her what you've told me. Maybe she can help."

"Would you?" The boy asked with such open relief that Tommy realized that was what the boy was hoping for all along. "Miss Kimmee always has the answer."

Tommy stifled a small bark of laughter and smiled encouragingly at him instead. It was a strange position to be in. Kim was a competent leader, he'd never deny that, but the bigger part of him still thought of her as Zordon's pink who was forever getting kidnapped and in need of rescuing. That wasn't exactly fair, and he knew it, but it was strange to see the other Rangers looking to her and not him for the answers…and at the same time kind of nice.

* * *

Bruna paused on the front porch of the family's residence, breathing in the cold, fresh, pre-dawn air. She was always up well before dawn, getting a head start on the day's chores and stealing a little precious quiet time for herself.

Although her father considered his family Austrian, he had moved them to Stuttgart in 1856 upon the death of her mother's father so that he could help his brother-in law run the thriving butcher shop left to them; which was why she spoke in a Swabian dialect. To the locals in Angel Grove however, she was simply German.

She had a good life, she thought to herself as she grabbed the broom from the side of the porch and stepped around the corner to the storefront. The third to the youngest of eight, and very robust, she had no expectations in life. She knew she would marry anyone who would have her and live her husband's life, not her own; receiving love from her children and from God when he deemed it to be so.

Hans Voepel had just sort of happened. He was the youngest son of the green grocer down the corner from her father's butcher shop and more than six years younger than she was. He was her youngest brother's best friend's little brother and she'd honestly never thought twice about him other than he was always among a pack of noisy children running up and down the cobbled street.

By the summer of 1869, at the age of twenty-five, pushing twenty-six, she had found herself very quickly running out of options. She was five feet, eleven inches tall in her bare feet, making her enormous to the nineteenth century men and women around her… and a very "sturdy," as her mother would say. She was not in the least bit pretty, but had merry little blue eyes that would twinkle constantly and always found the fun in anything or anyone around her.

The idea of spinsterhood in the upper story of her father's shop was demoralizing, but not one man, not even the ones her uncles and cousins pulled in, would deign to court the "man-like" Bruna, let alone offer for her. One by one she watched as the entire nursery she'd grown up with, her sisters and her cousins combined, left the house and married. Sixteen times, she wrestled the bouquet from her single rivals at family weddings, but yet they all married ahead of her. Things had finally became unbearable when her brothers brought their wives back and the wives had babies of their own. She'd simply been left behind in the nursery to care for the next generation.

Hans had stunned her one day, close to the end of her twenty-fifth summer, by declaring his unfettered love and adoration of her. At first she thought he was mocking her and had laughed out loud, right in his face; only his crushed and despondent reaction making her realize he was actually serious. She didn't love him back, all relatives on all sides thought he was insane, but he was better than the back room and a lifetime of wiping snotty noses that didn't belong to her.

Although both were from good, solid, middle class families, both realized they had very little opportunity in Stuttgart. Although the political and economic atmosphere at the end of the nineteenth century was generally stable one, they were both younger children and needed to make their own way.

She hadn't really blinked when her new husband showed her an advertisement for land settlements in America. She had married her husband and would live his life. The crossing of the Atlantic and then the great American continent, however, had been far more excruciating than she'd bargained for and she'd despaired long before they pulled into Curtis Hart's ranch that she would never survive long enough to travel back to her homeland.

Curtis Hart had been a god-send. They hadn't been on his ranch three months before Hans had come bursting through the door of their small manager's cabin and announced his boss was setting him up in his own dry goods store. It was something out of a fairytale, but German fairytales weren't exactly the happy-ever-after tales told in their new home country; so she stayed wary.

The worry had been for naught though. Curtis was a huge hearted man and their little business had thrived with his patronage. The following year, she'd given birth to a daughter and life was simply paradise for her. But what the good Lord giveth, He also taketh. After the birth of her one and only child, her courses never resumed and she bore no more children.

That didn't stop her from mothering though. Over the next few years that followed, she'd taken in multiple foster children. Hans was always agreeable and never once refused her, seeming to enjoy the chaos as much as she did. They had taken in three boys, either off the streets or from bad work/apprentice situations, and adopted two more unwanted baby girls and another baby boy from the ladies over Earnest's Saloon and Bath House; not that she'd ever admit that's where they came from. It didn't matter to her, she loved each and every one of them as dearly as her own and simply told anyone curious enough to ask that they were from an orphanage up north.

Love also blossomed in her marriage. She'd be a fool not to know how fortunate she was. Her husband was a good, steady, hardworking man who adored her. He reveled in her girth, finding beauty in her every curve. He never once found fault with her inability to produce more children and considered her an equal partner in their business. Life had been very kind to her and from that kindness, love and happiness flourished.

That didn't mean there weren't grueling hours of hard work to be done though. Fortunately, Bruna was nothing if not a hard worker. Every day and in every way, she pushed herself a little harder. Theirs was the cleanest, best stocked store in town. Her children were clean, well fed, and educated. There was great pride to be had in what they'd created and she'd have it no other way.

She tisked in irritation as she swept the ever present dust from the front porch of their storefront, then set her broom down in favor of an ammonia soaked cloth which she took to the big glass window. It was a window bigger and better than her father's shop had-had. For the briefest of moments, she wished her family could see how prosperous she was. Of course they would never believe her, but perhaps she could pay a photographer to take a family photo outside and she would send it to them.

She had written many letters home to her family and tried not to brag, but she couldn't help it; life was good. The only exaggeration she'd ever offered was, while admitting that the three older boys were fostered, she claimed the babies for herself; proudly sending birth announcements for each and every one of them.

No, it was time for another photograph, she decided. She would have portraits of all her children, then she would place her large family strategically on the front porch of the shop so that the large glass window was front and center. She grinned at the thought, then sighed heavily. Her family would be impressed, but Angel Grove was no Stuttgart. It was still very much a dusty, half broken, wild western town; far from the cobblestone roads, gardens, and ninety some thousand residents of her childhood home.

Standing back, she surveyed her ritual morning cleanings with pleasure. She was exceedingly proud of their shop, named the Black Horse in honor of her home town. The large sign above the porch was painted bright yellow with two handsome stallions rearing on their hind legs to paw at the air. It wasn't exactly correct, but as close as the local sign maker could produce. As she worked, the glass of the window began to twinkle as the first rays of sunlight crested the horizon and she smiled broadly.

She nodded curtly once in satisfaction, then froze as the mirrored glass reflected an image she hadn't seen in a while. It was the old Indian. He never moved, just stood as if looking through the glass back at her. She didn't bother turning around. She knew no one would be there. The old Indian only appeared to her in her glass window when Calamity Kim was in town or when there was great danger approaching.

Nodding to herself again, she came to a decision quickly. This was Angel Grove and not Stuttgart. She knew Calamity had arrived the day before, Horace's barn had once more exploded with a thunderous boom, and now the old Indian was appearing again in her window. It was a good day to close the shop and work on canning or finishing smoking the hams one of the local farmers had brought her the previous evening. Gathering her things, She marched quickly and efficiently inside and bolted the door; twice.

* * *

True of Heart watched calmly as the large woman gathered her things and left at a brisk pace. It never failed that she was either cleaning the window or doing something on the porch each and every time he used the waters of his private oasis to peer into the town via the large glass of her storefront; glass made specifically from the sand located at the bottom of his spring. He'd stopped trying to avoid her. There was no point in it and she always left quickly after spotting him.

It was still too early to tell exactly what was going on, but the spirit of the hawk had cried out to him that Kimberly was back and all was not well; the wind blowing in from the valley confirmed it. It was more serious this time than simply Zordon needing another Ranger team. The images he received via the totem portals he guarded were confusing and conflicting. He'd even received messages from the Wild Zords on the Animarium that they sensed danger approaching. He needed to get her attention, but wasn't sure how.

Scanning the still quiet streets one last time, he dipped his fingers through the waters of the stream and blurred the image. The images had told him nothing; he'd have to go in person.

* * *

Caroline refused to open her eyes although she was now despairingly wide awake again. Her head and mouth were thick with the after effects of the Laudlum; she hated the feeling. The pain and grief had dulled, she supposed the nasty drug had at least accomplished that, but it was still excruciatingly present and very heavy on her chest.

Yet, it wasn't the hurt or misery that held her mind's focus. Try as she might, she couldn't remove Curtis Hart from her thoughts. It was scandalously inappropriate. Grief consumed her like a cold wet blanket on a winter's harsh night, that hadn't changed and she doubted it ever would, but she couldn't help wondering how different her life would have been if she'd only married her handsome neighbor instead of her husband. Maybe her son would still be alive; maybe all her lost babies would be. She wished with all her might that she could have been a little smarter, made a little better choice; married the hero instead of the two-bit do-nothing slug. Maybe, just maybe things would have been different.

It would never have happened, reality cruelly reminded her. If she hadn't married Francis, she'd have never traveled to Angel Grove. She would have stayed in Chicago and married the banker's son or perhaps the one who had asked her to wait until he was finished with law school. She couldn't remember any of their names, she realized with just a touch of hysterical musing. They had been such a primary focus of her young life and now she couldn't even remember what they looked like.

It didn't matter anyway. She didn't know why life had brought her from the deep south to Chicago, and then to the far outreaches of civilization on the continent's western coast. There was no rhyme or reason to it, she decided at last, mind finally succumbing again to the Laudlum and fading slowly away from consciousness and back into a think drugged sleep. It simply had.

* * *

As the bright orange and red rays of the California sunrise began to crawl across the floorboards of Earnest's saloon, Angel Grove's sheriff called it quits. After winning it big against Curtis and then losing just as much, he was finally ahead by a few dollars and that's exactly where he'd leave it. He hadn't intended on spending the whole damn night at Earnest's, but he was curious as to what Calamity and her brood were up to. For some reason, she wanted him there, although the strategy behind it eluded him.

Calamity's presence in town never boded well for him. Strange things happened when she showed up; things better left to storybooks and legends. There was no doubt that when she was around, the world as they knew it turned upside down and sideways. When that happened, she was the law; not him. The townsfolk would never openly admit to supporting a woman in that position, but he was hard pressed to find anyone to stand up to her when she decided to meddle in something.

In a way, he commiserated. People got scared by what they didn't understand and everyone knew she was the only one who could put an end to it. That didn't mean he had to like it.

He had no illusions, what he ran in the quiet hours of his dustbowl of a town was nowhere near what the local courts and magistrates would call a law enforcement. The years he'd spent in Chicago and then San Francisco had taught him enough about organized syndicates to run a fairly decent one; one that the locals could tolerate and would accept as their form of peace keeping. He loved his cushy life. After years of mild and not so successful hoodluming in the bigger towns, he'd found himself a nice, cozy place to retire into anonymity… and Calamity threatened that.

To her credit, she generally stopped short of meddling in his business, expect where her Rangers were concerned. He didn't like her presence in town. While she was there to protect them from the monsters and the unknown, the townsfolk tended to stop respecting his authority, stop paying him his cuts; that chaffed him.

He'd tried countless times to get rid of her so called brother, or brother-in-law if you were going to blindly accept the new twist in the tales she spun, but he could never quite manage it. He didn't understand the strange relationship his adversary shared with Calamity, but he did know one thing, go up against Calamity's Rangers and you'd fail; often painfully. It wasn't worth it. He figured if monsters and Indian demons couldn't get rid of her and her mottled crew, he couldn't either.

What she'd wanted that night with him, he hadn't been able to decipher. She'd kept him there on purpose, throwing him bones in the form of good cards when he began to lose interest. He'd watched her intently all night, knowing full well she was cheating, but never quite able to catch her at it. It was always that way. Neither pretended with one another, but neither was quite able to expose the other either.

He stood and collected his winnings, firmly refusing any attempts on her part to keep him playing. Just as he announced he was done for the night and off to find his bed, three of the bar's less appealing residents came bursting through the swinging doors, shouting for him. His reflexes when he spun toward the commotion were as good as any gunslinger's, but he relaxed when he saw it was only Spencer Brent's bothersome manager and the two idiot cronies who followed him around.

"Sheriff," The lumberyard manager called, striding across the room to him. "It's Carson, he's dead."

The sheriff blinked, but not really in surprise. Francis Carson had pissed off way too many people in his day, but his wife had always managed to pay off his debts and smooth out any ruffled feathers before things got too difficult for him. Perhaps the drunken idiot had finally given up on life and done himself in. It didn't matter. The only effect Carson's death would have on the town was that the gutters and the jail cell in his office wouldn't smell as strongly of cheap whiskey.

"It's true." The second man confirmed, nodding his head. "Face down in the creek on my property, beaten half to a pulp. We found these nearby on the bank." He said, holding up a hat and horseshoe that caused the sheriff's eyes to widen, the surprised astonishment showing clearly on his face.

"That's my hat." Curtis answered in amazement before he could stop himself, "I left it hanging on the peg last night when I walked in."

It was true, he realized with numbing shock. Someone had to have taken it from the rack when he wasn't looking, but when? He'd never had any of his things stolen from Earnest's. There were too many people who looked out after them.

"Lemme see that shoe." The Sheriff said curtly, heart pounding with the hope that, just perhaps, at long last he'd found something he could pin on the irritating ranch owner. It was well known that Curtis had no love for the town drunk and also harbored a not so secret crush on Carson's wife. The motive was definitely there; at least the possibility of him pegging him with that kind of motive was there. "This came from your smithy." The sheriff accused, holding the horseshoe out for inspection and barely able to keep the glee out of his voice.

Curtis blanched visibly. It was true. His smith was from Japan; a distant relative, supposedly, of Abraham's….at least, according to Kim and Abraham. The man's talent with forging metal was incredible, but was also very unique and stood out sharply against the local metalwork. Tiger's shoes also had a unique shape to them. He was a mutt bought off a trader passing through and although he was more mustang than anything else, he had feet a Clydesdale would be proud of.

"You better have a good explanation Curtis." The sheriff growled, swallowing his astonishment at his good fortune in order to play the role of outraged lawman. He had him. After years of trying and being thwarted by the nonsense spun by Calamity Kim, he had Curtis Hart exactly where he wanted him.

"He does." Kim spoke up calmly. Stepping forward and crossing her arms defiantly as she faced off against him.

"I can hardly wait." He drolled expectantly. Here it came. This was the part where Calamity would spin one of her wild tales and the entire town would instantly buy into it. But not this time. He had a motive and he had personal property found by a local citizen, not his deputies, at the crime scene. It was over; he'd won. He'd call in every favor he could and empty his bank account to whatever judge he could find to bribe. He'd won.

"Curtis has been in this room all night. He's been playing cards with you at this very table. In fact, I'd say half the men in town can vouch that he was in here when Francis Carson left and he stayed here all night with us playing cards."

The sheriff blanched visibly, realizing she was right and, as one, the Rangers, realizing the same thing, seemed to release all the tension the last few seconds had squeezed into them. She'd known, just as she always seemed to know. That was why she'd kept them there, that was why she wouldn't allow them to leave and finish their assignments. Once again, she'd known what they couldn't have, that trouble was barreling towards them again.

The sheriff swore under his breath, frustrated beyond measure that his chance at ridding himself of Curtis Hart had been botched because his own curiosity as to what Calamity and her brood were up to had given the other man a foolproof alibi. It wasn't fair. She'd done it again.

"But we got evidence." The second man chimed in lamely, pointing to the hat and shoe in the sheriff's hands. "There's more out by the creek. Ain't anyone gonna come look and see?"

"Oh yes, I think we've got plenty of evidence." Kim purred, sending the sheriff a malicious smile. It hadn't been easy, but she'd kept Curtis and the Rangers directly in his line of sight all night long, just as the message orb had warned her to. It had been as disagreeable as dragging out an autopsy before breakfast, but the danger, for now, was past; at least the local danger. What Netau had managed to accomplish while she was occupied still remained to be seen.

He snarled at her in response, shoving the hat and shoe back at the man who had produced them and gnashing his teeth. She'd been one step ahead of him once again. How she'd known, how she managed to thwart him at each and every turn…but he'd get her and her Rangers one day. She'd slip up eventually; he get her.

"This ain't over….Your a murdering savage." The lumber yard manager snarled, eyes shooting accusing daggers in Curtis's direction. "You're gonna swing by your long hair for what you done."

"Oh but he's not a savage." The sheriff replied almost hysterically, as if giving a correction he thought was entirely ridiculous. "He's a hero imported to Angel Grove all the way from ancient Greece itself." He finished sarcastically, giving Kim a murderous look. "Why don't we just call him a descendent of Hercules himself?"

"Really?" An painfully thin and gnarled old man with a grizzled beard piped up from a back table. As one, the occupants turned, surprised to see an extra inhabitant to the otherwise vacant room. "Well I'll be." He added with a snaggletooth grin.

Raising his empty beer mug in salute, he chimed, "Here's to Iolaus and Joxer the Mighty!" then slumped down across the table and almost immediately began snoring loudly. Even with the tension still in the air, it was humorous, and Kim and a few others found themselves grinning tolerantly despite themselves.

"Actually…" Kim said absently, weighing the concept while still staring at the old man, "It's really not as farfetched as you might think…."

"Stop…" Curtis demanded in an aggravated tone, then simply shot her a frustrated look. This was serious, they were trying to frame him again and, although she seemed to have headed the worst off at the pass, the sheriff wouldn't give up on any edge he could find.

She turned in time to catch the look, then shrugged absently as if it didn't matter. The danger was over for now and she had to find a way to quickly duck out and get away from them before she lost control over her powers again. Zordon had helped her with a quick fix, but the patch was dissolving and she'd soon be at the mercy of another Muirantian metamorphosis with no Jason around to help temper the effects. The last time she'd tried to suffer a transmutation on her own, she'd sent everyone around her careening out of control through time. There were enough problems with the timeline without that happening again.

"What's this all about?" Earnest demanded, bringing his large frame through the narrow back doorway. He'd been on his way back in to close down for the morning, but by the looks of things, the poker game had ended and something serious was going on.

"I believe we were saying Curtis couldn't possibly have killed Mr. Carson." She offered, changing the subject and re-directing it where she wanted it to go. "He was here in this room all night playing cards with the sheriff, Earnest can be a witness to it as can several of the sheriff's deputies."

"He could have done it before." The lumber yard managed offered. "We don't know where he's been all day."

"Carson's dead?" Earnest asked, wondering if Curtis had any idea how much the miserable drunk owed the saloon. He supposed it didn't matter, his partner had kept him from collecting Francis's debts every time the issue was raised and he seriously doubted he would be allowed to collect against the widow; his partner was obviously sweet on her.

"I have witnesses that place him inside the saloon when Carson left." Kim said firmly.

"I'll second that." Earnest chimed in, his burley hands crossed firmly across his chest. "Carson left with that albino while Curtis and his brother were still at the bar. I've got a whole town full of regulars that'll say he didn't leave before you came in and you know full well he hasn't left the main room since. It's the albino you and your deputies need to be looking for sheriff."

"But his hat was there." The second man chimed in again, lamely holding it up for the sheriff to see as if that was proof. "And the horseshoe."

"Yeah, go look at 'is horse, you'll see it's miss'n the shoe." The third man chimed in.

"The hat was obviously stolen off the rack from the bar this evening in an attempt to plant false evidence." Kim growled. "And the shoe removed from Tiger around the same time."

"That horse won't let anyone touch it except Hart." One of the deputies snarled. "It's a devil-beast. No one'd be able to get near enough to it to take a shoe off, it had to have fallen off."

Kim raised a speculative eye at the deputy, as if wondering if the man had been fool enough to try and steal Curtis's horse. Tiger was well over a decade old now, but he was still the fiery tempered horse she remembered Curtis breaking in during the last campaign. He seemed to like her, and she'd ridded him on occasion, but the deputy was right, anyone who tried to mess with Tiger's shoes would be soundly kicked in the head for trying and the ruckus he'd raise would have drawn too much attention.

"Tiger threw the shoe when I left Doc's." Curtis supplied. "I was frustrated and hitched him back to the post rather than heading on out. It was one of the reason's I came in here. Didn't feel like walking him all the way back to the ranch in the dark. I had it in my hand and left it on the peg holding my hat."

"He could have had somebody else do it for him." The first man offered, grasping at straws. This was not at all how things were supposed to have played out and he was a little afraid what the albino would do if Curtis didn't get the blame.

"That would be a little difficult to arrange with just about everyone he knows gathered in the saloon all night." Kim replied easily.

The sheriff turned and faced her, temper rising as his scan met the face of each and every suspect he could possibly name or accuse in hopes of pressuring Curtis into a confession. "You knew." He accused and everyone in the room felt a cold chill crawl down their backs. Calamity always had a way of knowing things that no one ever questioned. She'd gathered all her Rangers in one place so that the sheriff and his men couldn't touch them. Once again she'd kept them safe.

Those who loved her, suddenly loved her a lot more. Those who hated her, seethed.

"How could I have possibly known?" She replied sweetly. "The future's always unwritten until it happens."

"You planned this." He snarled in response. "You knew Carson was a target. That's why you gathered your crew in here. I don't know how yet Calamity, but I'll find the proof I need to show you were involved in Carson's death and then…"

"That I was involved and tried to frame my own brother-in-law?" She replied sweetly. "I doubt that will hold much weight."

In response, he turned in rage and began to stomp from the room, but was halted by the little man with Curtis's hat and horseshoe. He held the objects up hopefully, as if to ask the sheriff to consider his worthless evidence one more time, but the sheriff snatched them roughly away from him and shoved them to the floor before continuing his heated march to the exit.

"I need two deputies with me to retrieve Carson from the creek." He snarled, then disappeared out the swinging doors. Two of his men looked at each other resignedly, then silently followed, leaving the others to simply stare at one another.

"You're knuckles are awfully bruised Mr. Richmond." William said after a few seconds. He spoke in a calm voice that had such a deadly undertone that all looked at the young man in surprise. In that moment, he didn't look like much of a boy at all. He looked very grown up and very much like he was ready to fight…and there was no mistaking that whoever was stupid enough to take him on was going to lose and lose badly.

"Mr. Leaderman's knuckles are downright bloodied." He continued, the tone sending another chill through those witnessing it. The boys eyes were hard and full of fury and Tommy suddenly realized that the three trouble makers who had accused Curtis were most likely the ones bothering his girlfriend. He almost felt bad for them; there was nothing worse than pissing off the wrong Ranger.

"That creek mud you three are covered in isn't good for you. It tends to breed infections." William added, and Curtis realized with approval that the boys observations were right.

The three men were still wet and had more mud splattered on them than they should have if they'd only just stumbled upon Carson's body in the growing sunlight. Their knuckles were bruised and bloodied, as if they'd been in a fight, but their faces were unmarked. Whatever, or whoever, they'd been beating on hadn't fought back.

The realization that the three troublemakers in front of him had most likely been the ones to either beat Caroline's husband to death or drown him, then turn around and try to frame him for it, sunk into his gut like a led weight. Half of him felt a surge of murderous rage, but the other half sank in the guilty realization that, if he hadn't egged them on earlier, then maybe they wouldn't have taken it out on Carson. He had no love what-so-ever for the town drunk, but the man was apparently now dead and it could very well be that he'd lit the match to the fuse that produced the deed.

"What're you saying boy?" The lumberyard manager growled dangerously, turning and balling his fists as if ready to fight.

"Only that you should have those wounds checked." William answered blandly, his gaze level, but the muscles of his body tightly coiled; the challenge unmistakable.

He had his own grudge against the three men in front of him, was ready and willing to beat the life out of them for the torment they'd put Allison through, but he was also more than willing to use the excuse of Mr. Carson's death to achieve the same end. If he played his cards right, he wouldn't have to lift a finger. He could get the townsfolk to run the trio out of town for him; preferably tarred and feathered.

But the three men didn't back down. If anything, their true colors began to seep visibly towards the surface. There were only three of them, but the remaining deputies had no intentions of allowing the Rangers any advantage. They didn't care if the three had killed Carson or not, if it was a fight that was brewing, they weren't gonna be on the Rangers side.

Quietly, Abraham pulled himself from his chair and stood next to the boy. His sudden angst surprised him, but whatever the cause, he would stand beside his student and fellow Ranger in whatever showdown was forming.

Earnest, sensing the atmosphere getting more and more dangerous, slipped toward the safety of the bar, and his shotgun, as one by one the other Rangers quietly filed in behind William until the three men and deputies were on one side and the Western Rangers were on the other.

The lineup faced each other in lethal silence across the saloon tables as the second hand of the grandfather clock loudly ticked off the seconds, one by one. Neither side moved, both ready in deadly anticipation; waiting for the other to blink.

* * *

"The transplant has been successfully accomplished." Zordon reported, then added "Without my assistance…as you instructed."

He wasn't entirely sure why he added the last remark. Perhaps he was a bit miffed that he'd been forbidden to help in such a critical hour. He doubted it. Passive aggression was a personality flaw that eons of living had tempered into near nonexistence. Then again, the prescience of his old master had awakened many youthful emotions that had long been buried.

"Has she passed your test?" He asked again. When only cold silence met his question, he added, "Will you now give consideration to the merit of my hypothesis?"

Again the silence. Zordon breathed a heavy mental sigh of disappointment.

He had chosen Earth for his experiments because it was far removed from the core worlds, but also because it had housed, once upon a time, more than one venerated ancestor. If it was worthy enough of their notice, then perhaps it should be worthy of his…he also wasn't entirely sure his experiments would work and Earth was far enough removed from the galaxy's core to spare his reputation should he fail.

He had brought with him the best technology and magic the universe had to offer. He wasn't there yet, but he was painfully close and the exposure he'd had to Kimberly, both in the present nineteenth century and in Earth's ancient past, gave him hope.

He loved her dearly. She was a child of his heart and carried with her his expectations for the continuance of his efforts into the future. He knew that he could not live foever, even in his Power Tube. She brought him hope that, in just another century, his efforts would reach fruition. She was a magnificent blend of genetics and morphanological markers.

The presence of her husband also gave him hope. His initial scans indicated the same breeding techniques, but he had yet to identify the exact line.

If he was right, and if the Power willed it, Earth's mongrel population would become the most morphanologically compatible race of humans the universe had ever known. If that happened, the little planet could quite possibly produce more Rangers in each and every one of it's short generations than the entire rest of the galaxy combined. Perhaps then the forces of good would stand a chance when the demon king broke free again.

"Perhaps…" Came the whispered answer of his mentor.

Zordon smiled.


	12. Chapter 12: Revelations

Hartland

By: KSuzie

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney except Ivan and Dulcea who apparently belong to Fox (who knew?), the Demon King is Daniel's (but I've changed the history a bit to fit my stories) and everything else belongs to me._

* * *

Chapter 12: Revelations

Kimberly's head throbbed and her eyelids burned as she and Tommy transported into the Power Chamber. She stumbled a little as the transport ended, something that never happened anymore and attested to how ill she'd become.

"Zordon," She said without preamble, "The net containing the metamorphosis is dissolving and I can't control the phase. It's already begun."

"So I can see." He responded kindly. Although he understood the mechanics of what was happening, he'd never actually seen a phase from beginning to end as it was occurring. On his last experience, over six thousand years before when Ivan was attacking Earth for the first time, she was already more than three quarters through the metamorphosis before propelling herself, Jason, and their friend Carri back in time to his Power Chamber. Since that time, he'd devoted a considerable amount of time to researching, but he'd found little substantial data. Apparently, the forces of evil didn't care how a demon spawn matured; only that it did.

Kimberly, although she still served as a faithful Ranger for the forces of good and although Maligore had rebuilt her using a fairly accurate human genome, was no longer human. It was difficult to remember that sometimes. She was Maligore's offspring, born in the fires of his Muirantian volcano, and as such would continue to grow and develop her powers over the next several thousand years.

At each point of transition, or phase, as she called them, she would develop and mature another set of powers inherited by her sire, but during the actual process itself, she was often as violently out of control as she was weak and feverish. If he could guess, she was barely beginning adolescence and he honestly wished he knew if that meant the phases would be as traumatic as a human's transition through puberty or if, somehow, it was different for demon spawn. He simply didn't know and, although he had researched many forbidden texts outlining magical development for creatures of evil, he was honestly baffled by the process.

"Alpha, please prepare for containment." He said gently.

"What can I do?" Tommy asked nervously, obviously concerned and fretful. He hated the fact he didn't fully understand what was happening to her. Kimberly was the one person in the universe he was the most afraid to lose.

"I'm afraid there is little assistance you can offer at the moment." Zordon responded sympathetically. He understood the young man's anxiousness and agitation, but Kimberly assured him that there was little any of them could do except keep her from harming herself or others around her. "Alpha will prepare a restraint chamber that will hopefully keep her contained until the metamorphosis is complete. Rest assured though, this is a normal developmental phase and, from all appearances, a relatively minor one. I have every expectation that she will pass through it quickly and easily."

Tommy exhaled in frustration, but was reassured a little by his former mentor's words. Zordon was the only being he could still trust implicitly, but somehow that just didn't seem to help at that moment. Being helpless just didn't sit well with him; he needed something to keep his mind occupied. He watched anxiously as his wife lay back on the ancient medical bed and Alpha activated a red force field around her.

"I need a job to do." He muttered.

Zordon nodded thoughtfully at the young man he knew would one day serve as one of his future Rangers. Fortunately, with the second Equaline wave still approaching them, there was still plenty that needed to be done.

* * *

"She's ready to see you now Curtis." Alicia said, brushing by him with her long skirt rustling.

"Did you tell her?" He asked uneasily. Why she or Doc couldn't be the ones to tell Caroline about her husband, he didn't know. He hated being assigned the task.

"No." She replied, shaking her head. "But she knows something's up."

Curtis resisted the urge to groan. He was never very good at delivering bad news; although he really wasn't sure if Carson's widow would consider her husband's untimely demise a bad thing.

He gave Alicia an uncertain look, but she ignored him and pushed by; turning her back on him and walking down the narrow hall to the kitchen with a swish of her long yellow skirt. Taking a deep breath, he wondered for the thousandth time in the last five minutes what he would say.

He was no stranger to breaking the news to a widow that her husband wasn't returning home. Life on the ranch was hard and accidents happened far too often. But Caroline wasn't just any new widow. She was the only female in the entire world that could turn his stomach into knots just by batting her eyelashes in his direction.

Kimberly had said that she would eventually be his. The idea was inconceivable and yet utterly euphoric at the same time. She was his…would be his, he corrected himself silently. How long did someone wait in circumstances like these? He couldn't just go in, inform her that her husband was dead, but, oh by the way, he'd loved her from the first instant he'd seen her and would she ever consider marrying him now that she was free and clear of an unwanted husband.

"Get going." Alicia snapped from the other end of the hall, knowing full well that she was the only one in the world outside of Kimberly who dared to speak to him like that that. For the west's greatest hero in white, he was also the world's biggest baby sometimes. Caroline was his for the taking, he needed to get in her room and get the ball rolling on his suit or the love of his life would be packing and hauling herself back east before he even knew the stagecoach was due to leave.

Curtis drew in another deep breath and squared his shoulders. He still didn't have a clue what he was going to say, but it was then or never. Exhaling sharply, he put his hand out and turned the fancy glass knob on Doc's infirmary door.

* * *

True of Hart sat in stoic silence on the ladies saddle mounting block, ignoring the stares of the townspeople and the angry glare of the stable owner. Horace's barn had been magically restored overnight and, once again, despite a number of youths who had camped out in hopes of figuring out how it was done, no one had seen a thing. He knew, of course, how she and Alpha accomplished it, but it was highly amusing to watch the townsfolk gather and prattle among themselves in awe at the smell of the fresh wood and how it all gleamed in the bright morning sunlight.

His presence didn't help the chatter. He never came to town unless Calamity was there and even then rarely made public appearances unless it was absolutely necessary. He supposed he could travel to Zordon's dwelling, but he didn't feel like it. The images he'd been sent had her located in town, Horace's barn had gone up again, and even Ulysses had left his mud hut…so he figured his best bet was simply to stay put and she'd eventually find him.

He was hungry though and as the morning sun rose higher, he became a little disgruntled by her tardiness. One could only be amused the silly twittering of bonneted local skirts for so long. But no sooner had the wayward thought crossed his mind, then a shadow crossed over him, shading him from the bright sun.

He looked up slowly and calmly at the man who approached him. He was perhaps twenty to twenty five years younger than himself and strikingly familiar. This, however, was not his daughter's widower. The man before him wore the look of a man who had experienced many of the perils the universe had to offer, but not of one who had spent much time planet-side in a saddle. His short cropped hair framed a face that still contained echoes of boyhood, yet the eyes were sharp and held the fatigue of one who had seen far too much. With a start, he realized who the young man was.

"Hello Tommy." He greeted simply, as if it were only yesterday the ten year old little boy had found him in the desert.

Tommy stopped, dead in his tracks and stared at the Indian who greeted him. For the briefest of instances, his memories flashed back to the Zeo quest. He'd always wondered how far back in time he'd been sent and there was a moment of odd, yet pleasant, emotion as he realized he'd come full circle and faced his ancestral guide once again.

"True of Hart." He returned plainly, for lack of anything better, then froze, wondering if he really had come full circle or if the man before him was an earlier version who knew nothing of his boyhood quest through time. He had remembered an older version, but that memory was tainted through the eyes of a child. The man before him was older than he was, but not the ancient wise man he remembered.

"It pleases me that you have not forgotten." He replied, answering his question. "You've grown." He added, with a soft smile.

"And you've remained the same." Tommy returned.

True of Heart smiled broadly and chuckled at his words. In truth, he'd only assisted the younger version not more than three or four summers before. He'd always felt a bit badly that the earthquake caused by that idiot Murdock had cut their visit short. There had been much more that he'd wanted to say, that he'd been supposed to say, to the young boy, but it was perhaps for the better. Loch and Murdock had wanted the red Zeo shard and as a boy Tommy would have been no match for him. It had always surprised him how quickly the young boy had completed his challenge and he wondered how the grown version had continued to develop his talents.

"I've been asked to…" Tommy began, but stopped as a large woman in a plain brown skirt strode purposely towards them.

He tried not to stare, but he simply couldn't help it. It was as if Farkas Bulkmeier himself had followed them through time and dressed himself in a blond wig, large hat, and women's ninetieth century ladies skirt and petticoats. As the startling image of his future classmate strode purposely towards him, he managed to close his open mouth, but not before the older man caught the shocked and disturbed reaction.

"I make food for him." Bruna declared in a very thick German accent, then shoved a large plate of sausage and vegetables into Tommy's hands.

Tommy simply blinked. He couldn't help it. He was afraid if he moved he would burst out laughing. None of the western Rangers looked even remotely like their ancestors, except for William who would pass on his blue eyes to Billy, but here before him was the absolute carbon copy of Bulk himself. He had the most insane urge to look for Skull and wouldn't have been one bit surprised if he showed up in the form of the woman's husband.

"I make food." Bruna repeated, directly at Tommy. She knew her English wasn't very good and didn't expect the old Indian to speak it anyway, but she had hoped Curtis's brother would understand her…at least she hoped it was Curtis's brother she faced. He was exactly as Hans had described him and her husband assured her that there would be no other carbon copies of their partner running around Angel Grove.

"I make food." She said a third time, pointing at the plate and slowing her words down, but Tommy simply stared at her.

"Thank you." True of Hart supplied congenially when it became obvious the younger man wouldn't answer her. "You are most kind. I am very hungry and it smells very good."

"You speak English?" Bruna asked, the amazement evident in her face and voice.

He blinked at her question, not surprised in the least by it, but swallowed the answer he might have given in his younger days. Of course he spoke English. His grandfather had insisted he attend the missionary schools, leave his family when those same missionaries had arranged for him to gain a higher education in academies far away from the land he'd been born to. It had been hoped that he could act as a liaison to the settlers and their new government. It had been hoped that if they could show a willingness to adapt to the new world that had crashed upon them, perhaps then they wouldn't meet the fate of so many others…but it hadn't helped; not even working with Zordon himself had helped. They had lost their lands to the farmers and ranchers and been forced high up in the hills.

In the end, he simply nodded.

"I feed you…I make for you very good sausage, yah, everyone say so…then maybe if I am feeding you -you will be staying out of my window, yah?"

True of Hart smiled kindly at the woman, resisting the urge to chuckle. Give up his hard won viewing globe in downtown Angel Grove? He didn't think so. It had taken far too much finagling on his part.

"In your window?" He asked innocently, feigning confusion. "How can I be in your window if I am here?"

"I feed, you stay. No window. Yah?" She demanded adamantly, nodding her head up and down in an effort to get him to agree.

When the two men simply stared at her, she turned in a huff and marched back to town. "No window." She called back over her shoulder.

Tommy continued to stare at the retreating form of the woman for so long that True of Heart began to wonder what could have possibly unnerved him. Making a mental note to inquire later, he asked, "If you're not going to eat that…"

* * *

Kimberly groaned as the room around her came back into focus. Alpha had removed the containment field and she blinked sleepily in the bright light of the chamber.

"How are you feeling?" Zordon asked kindly.

She didn't look like she felt well at all. Her respiration was slow, her fever lower but still present, and thick blue circles had formed under her eyes, presenting a sharp contrast to her sallow and pallid complexion.

The phase had passed with startling quickness, but the readouts had gone wild with the ferocity of it and even Alpha couldn't keep up and process all the information the sensors had captured. It might take months or even years to sort through, but it had also been utterly fascinating. To his knowledge, no one had ever collected physical data of a spawn phasing and the scientist in him thrilled at the prospect of chronicling the event.

"Like a fleet of busses just ran over me." She responded in a grouchy tone. "How long was I out?"

"About six hours." Alpha responded cheerily as he continued to shut down monitors and flip switches. Zordon was very pleased with his data collection and when Zordon was pleased, so was he.

"That's it?" Kim asked in astonishment. Phases didn't last hours, they lasted days. Something wasn't right. She felt the way she always felt, like she'd had a bad case of the flu and was on the mend, but something was off.

"We were able to document the initiation of the phase, the moment you began transition, and the conclusion all within about a three hour time period." Alpha declared proudly. "The rest of the time you were simply sleeping. That's why your husband was willing to go with Curtis."

"Zordon that's not right." Kim said worriedly, sliding off the bed and hobbling a bit as the sore joints in her feet and ankles rebelled at being asked to stand on the hard floor. "Phases take days, not hours."

"Do you believe that perhaps you had already progressed further into the transition than we had originally thought?" Her mentor asked with a slight frown.

"I don't know…I…" Kim began, then stopped as familiar alarms began to blare and lights flashed around her.

"Ai, yi, yi, yi, yi!" Alpha fretted, brushing past her and collecting data from the main computer panel. "Zordon, Curtis and Ulysses have come under attack!"

"What's happened?" Kim asked, instantly back in Ranger mode despite the protests of her body.

"They took your husband to investigate a warning about a broken portal seal." Alpha explained. "True of Hart was worried that the ancient spirit locked inside would escape. He went to find the tools to re-seal the chamber and the others went to see it they could stall the demon inside."

"I think I better be brought back up to speed." Kim commented, stepping closer to Alpha to try and see what was going on.

"Behold the viewing globe." Zordon answered and Kimberly and Alpha both turned as one. Inside the round sphere, the fluffy white swirling clouds parted and they could all see an image of the battle below, but it wasn't an ancient Indian spirit they were battling.

"Zordon, that's not Ah-Puch." Alpha commented in a worried tone. "Do you think he was able to escape again?"

"No Alpha, it appears that they have been lured into a trap." Zordon replied, silently chastising himself. He should have seen it coming. They'd been more concerned that Kimberly would break through the containment field and open portals than in any attack by Nester's son. They had let their guard down against Murdock and the albino Netau. Although he was loathe to accept that a guardian had truly turned and was trying unsuccessfully to cling to the belief that the feud between him and Kimberly was strictly personal, he could no longer deny that he had a very serious problem on his hands.

As they watched, Tommy, Curtis, and Ulysses were surrounded by Loch, Murdoch, Sirus, the twins and about two dozen Wipories. Ulysses was doing well, considering his age, but Tommy and Curtis were obviously interceding for him and taking a beating in the process.

"I need to get down there." Kim muttered, eyes fixed on the image of her husband in the screen. He hadn't reacted well to the last Wiporie sting and, once the venom entered the body's system, every sting after would have a more drastic effect.

"That is unwise at this time." Zordon advised. "You have not fully recovered from the phase, you must stand aside and allow the Rangers of this time period to handle the current situation on their own."

"Ai yi, yi, but Zordon, shouldn't we at least call the other Rangers?" Alpha asked, turning to face his master.

"Yes Alpha." Zordon responded, smiling at the automaton's anticipation of his next command. "Please call them at once."

But before Zordon could do anything, Loch called his forces back and a sudden flash of white light enveloped the globe. Kim watched in horror as her husband and her friends fell to the ground after a absorbing a blast of light from Netau's hands.

* * *

Kim didn't wait for Zordon to transport her. In a blink, she was gone, reappearing in front of her friends and shielding them with a red energy shield that she had no idea how she was able to produce; it was simply reflexive and she wondered if it was a result of the phase.

"I knew you wouldn't desert them." Netau sneered. "Enough of these petty games girl. The Equaline wave is almost here. Disclose Ivan's burial site or your friends and your husband die here and now."

"I don't understand." Curtis groaned, slowly pulling himself up from the ground. Pain shot through him, as if he'd been hit by a thousand stun beams all at once. "You'll be effected as much by the wave as we will. Why not help us stop it?"

"Fool!" Netau spat. "The wave is of no concern to me, it's a correction to the artificial manipulations of your precious demon spawn, nothing more."

"Netau, you're sworn to protect the Balance." Ulysses moaned, rolling over, but not sitting up. As he did so, Kim silently breathed a prayer of thanks to the Great Power that the old man wasn't dead. "You can't allow the wave to continue. None of us can."

"There is only one way to obtain the true Balance." Netau hissed. "All alternate universes must succumb and be eliminated in favor of the one true timeline."

"You've got to be kidding." Tommy groaned as he rose and forced himself into a standing position next to Kim.

"He's not." His wife answered, unintentionally edging closer to him in a protective gesture. Neither he nor Curtis were a match for the so called guardian. She wasn't either, she realized, but she was more prepared than they were. Ulysses was wise and powerful, but he didn't have the skills of a Divestor that she and Jason had. At the thought of her Muirantian twin, Kim spared herself a momentary wish that he could be there with them. He was much better at killing than she was, especially when they were facing someone more powerful than they were. "I've heard this before, too many times to count and all from little dweebs like him that think they have the answer to the problems of the universe."

"It's a small group of moderators called the Roan." Ulysses grunted. He rolled over and gradually pulled himself, with great effort, to a sitting position, but did not try to stand. "They fancy themselves the only acceptable Inquisitors of the next up and coming generation." He spat blood from his mouth unceremoniously into the dirt, then looked at the albino with disgust, "I thought we'd sentenced them all to death a millennia ago."

"Lemme guess…we've not considered part of that pure timeline." Tommy interjected sarcastically. Netau had come from nowhere and sucker punched them. He'd give him credit for it once, but it wasn't going to happen again.

"Not you." Netau spat derisively, sneering at him in contempt as if he were no more than a pathetic piece of filth. "Her. She's an abomination. Her sweet and pathetically dewy hopefulness inspired the other Rangers to help turn you from Rita's spell; she was always giving them useless hope. The green Ranger and his Dragonzord were never meant to serve the forces of good…she interfered… but she hasn't stopped there. She survived Muirantias, two evil servants were supposed to be given in penance for the destruction on one… with her as the main sacrifice. It should have reinstated the timeline, but instead of slaughtering the Rangers, she turned her back on her birthright as Maligore's spawn of evil and swore allegiance once again to Zordon."

"And that was a bad thing?" Curtis asked, but regretted his words as Netau hissed and another beam of energy shot towards him. Kim intercepted this one though and a great flash of light exploded in the space between them.

"There is only one true balance!" Netau screamed, but no one was certain if his beliefs were the cause of the outburst or Kim's interference. Froth appeared to bubble at his lips and spittle punctuated each word. "The Continuum has lost its focus. I will not allow ….things…like her to squeeze ridiculous justifications and theories into legitimate deliberations. There is only one true universe!"

"Alternate realities are older than the ancients. The terms of the Free Will Directive dictate that any intelligent mind has the right, the obligation, to explore itself and the universe around it!" Ulysses blustered.

"You and those of your ilk refuse to understand the ramifications of allowing…her…to live. Her, Dulcea, the others…the Ninjetti themselves….they're blasphemous mutations of the Great Power that must be eradicated from the histories!"

"The Ninjetti are all that remain of the time before the ancients captured ..." Kim started.

"No!" Netau screamed with a volume that threatened to deafen them. "They are unnatural, part of the disgusting beastial attempt to corrupt the purity of the sentient races! They must be contained within the power coins, not allowed to….merge…with the human soul. The permutation is nothing more than foul contagion. There can be no balancing of the timelines after that….Ninjor was right to entrap the animal spirits in his coins, to refuse them the power to chose a compatible host."

"I hate fanatics." Tommy muttered, dusting himself off dramatically. The monolog was interesting, but it was time to get down to business and wipe Netau and his lackeys off the face of their so-called unorthodox planet. "Give me a monster, give me a machine, even an evil dictator…" He rambled, "Leave out the intolerant, narrow minded, uncompromising extremists out to prove they know the one and only solution to the universe; they waste my time."

"The Ninjetti exist in countess alternate universes." Ulysses argued, ignoring Kimberly's husband.

He'd dealt with plenty of Netau's kind before; heard the arguments against Dulcea and her Ninjetti countless times. The culmination of those debates were part of the reason she'd been forced to retreat to the ancient ruins of Phaedos and many of those old verdicts had also been the underlying reasons behind the curse that threatened to age her if she left.

There were many who wanted the Ninjetti eradicated, who feared the power they could command if they ever turned against the Continuum, and he'd been forced to sit through more than one campaign to have them and the even the Order of Meledon itself be outlawed. As a Ninjetti himself, he chaffed at the arguments, but Dulcea and Zordon made sure he kept quiet about having been associated with them in his youth. He hated it, but he agreed them, better to allow the Ninjetti to disappear into legend and wait until the universe needed them, than fight for recognition in a universe that didn't want them.

But his concern now was for Kimberly. She was going to have to deal head on with Netau, he could see that plainly enough. The moderator in him knew that the law was not exactly on her side and if his guess was right, the albino had spent his entire career cultivating allies and covering his tracks. Kimberly was going to need evidence the other guardian was a threat and hopefully Zordon had headed his advice and kept his recorders on. If he could keep the guardian talking, and if they survived the Equaline waves, hopefully there would be enough evidence in his monolog to prove that Kimberly was right and he needed divesting from the continuum. There was only one solution, Netau was going to have to disappear and he seriously hoped his friend had enough power to accomplish it without too many people asking the wrong questions.

"Not the legitimate universe." Netau hissed. "They destroy all continuity in the timeline. Don't you see old man? You, the so called great moderator of your age. They are a team so powerful they can raise the dead…how can that be allowed to exist? Zordon was never meant to live past the twentieth century, he should have died at the hands of Rita's green or if he survived that he should have perished by Ivan's hand."

"Never mind that Ivan doesn't exist in universes without Ninjetti." Kim couldn't resist pointing out.

"The Ninjetti are too powerful," Netau continued, irritated by the interruption. "Their powers are unlimited and eternal; they can never lose them. They can just…create new Zords at will. No one is entirely sure whether or not Dulcea's bastard team will ever age, depending on the conditions placed upon their receiving the Great Power. Look at the demon spawn in front of you, look at the example of her twin. Both of them found the power to turn from their birthright and serve the forces of good again…how can you justify that kind of perversion? Kimberly has no idea the power within her, but she will, and she'll exploit it, she's already ripped the Muirantian portal from the hands of evil to a dangerous neutrality and then finally delivered it into the hands of good!" He shouted, heaving for breath between clenched teeth.

"How can you say that wasn't the correct history?" Tommy interjected angrily. Netau had struck a raw nerve and his temper flared despite his best effort to control it. "Who are you to decide which alternate universe is the one true universe?" He demanded.

"The most senior guardian of your timeline." Netau advised testily. "It falls to me to decide what will be allowed to continue and what must be eliminated to protect the Balance. The Continuum cannot allow the Ninjetti to parasite themselves into the accepted model of the universe."

"The Ninjetti existed before that model was adapted." Ulysses pointed out. "Ninjor himself even…"

"You don't just change the back-story of the universe!" Netau howled in outrage. "It's impossible. Totemic animals bonded to humans on an individual basis should never be allowed control, they must be forced into submission by their host, not bonded irrevocably to them. They must be forced to submit to being shared and traded at will under the control of its host. Instead the Ninjetti end up parasitic hosts to their animal spirit, dependant on the power it gives them and unable to distinguish their will from the will of the animal guiding them; it's a perversion!"

"The Ninjetti animal guide is not evil." Kim interjected angrily. "Animus proved that eons ago."

"They hold the power to subdue the entire universe under their own power. No creature with free will could possess that kind of power without succumbing to corruption; of course they're evil!"

"And what you're doing is different because…." Tommy asked, but was ignored again, which did nothing to improve his mood. The argument was irritating and even Loch and his henchmen looked bored and slightly concerned their new leader was off his rocker.

Having held Ninjetti powers himself, he couldn't agree with anything the albino said. He had enjoyed being a Ninjetti, but the Zeo crystal had opened up a whole new realm of possibilities that hadn't been possible with the coins… unless Zordon had purposely kept them from discovering their full potential; which was entirely possible considering how young they'd been.

It wasn't as if being a Ninjetti had fully left him. Thanks to Sam's teachings, he was still guided by the falcon long after the Ninjetti powers had left him…but if Netau was right, perhaps that power hadn't really left him after all. He'd just assumed when the coins were destroyed that his ability to morph into his Ninjetti form had been lost, but if his animal spirit still guided him… He thought of Jason and Kimberly and Carri's abilities to morph into Ninjetti. They still held coins, but if the coin was only a catalyst and the ability innate...part of him felt an surge of elation at the realization that perhaps that power wasn't lost after all. That perhaps there were more possibilities to being a Ninjetti than he'd ever thought possible.

"Look at the Continuum's own records," Kim insisted. "The Ninjetti have always fought to regain the Balance in the universe; they still do!"

"Spoken like an infected Ninjetti monstrosity justifying her own foulness!" Netau screamed, raising a shaking and accusing finger towards her. "You would do well to remember that you and your kind have no voice in the debate of legitimate doctrine."

"If you destroy the re-emergence of the Ninjetti." Ulysses willed himself to say in a calm voice. "If you negate Dulcea, if you negate the order of Meledon, then you negate all but one random timeline that will free the demon king and cast us all back to the Dark Ages before the Restoration of Power."

"No." Kim spoke up, disgust clear in her voice as she realized at last what Netau really wanted. "He legitimizes his own home timeline."

"Which is?" Ulysses asked, bushy eyebrows raising as he considered her theory.

"IA 101 Modified UATC."

"Power preserve us…" The old man whispered.

In response, a slow, wicked grin spread evilly across Netau's mouth, exposing the lines of needle like teeth. "You assume to know more than you actually do." He hissed. "I've played you girl, every move you've made your entire life has been orchestrated by my design."

"And yet," Kim answered cheekily, "I fail to die, don't I?"

Netau roared in angry frustration, white lightening crackling around his fingertips. "You think Zordon sent you from Angle Grove as a pathetic teen? Did you think it was that great morphanological wizard you idolize who slowed your precious Zeo turned Turbo rescuers through the Nemesis Triangle?"

Anger bubbled up from her core despite her determination to restrain it. Netau was a liar. He was in charge of her home timeline, he knew her history as well as the histories of her alternates very well, he would know the buttons to push to get her angry and let her guard down. Ulysses was hurt, she was the only thing standing between Netau and her husband and friends. She couldn't lose focus.

"Zordon appealed on behalf of his Rangers, but was denied because you had been contaminated by the Ninjetti training you received…training that went against any acceptable and canonically correct timeline. He then appealed, arguing Jason and Lerigot should not suffer because he had encouraged you down the wrong path and the moderators acquiesced, but the Balance had to be maintained. He agreed to let my colleague choose the Ranger's method of transport through the triangle and he in turn allowed me to suggest one to him. By slowing the Ranger's down with a ghost ship of damned souls, I guaranteed you and his former red Ranger would burn."

Kim's heart thudded loudly in her chest, but she ignored it. She had to focus, slow down the adrenaline coursing through her, and stay on guard.

"Zordon knew I could turn her." Tommy interrupted, causing Netau's smile to slip a little and his head to slowly turn in his direction. "He knew she believed in me when no one else did, that she set the example for the others to believe in me. She had faith in me that I could overcome evil's hold, that I could be what I wanted, not what Rita's spell decreed. He knew I held onto that faith right down to the core of my soul and that I could, and would, give it back to her when she needed it."

"You…" Netau spat viciously, spittle flying outward from his white lips, "Were never meant to turn. You were supposed to destroy the Rangers and eventually Rita, Zedd and the Machine Empire. You were to become an Emperor second only to Dark Specter, a Prince of the Magnificence himself!"

"Otherwise known as the Demon King." Kim supplied.

"The Demon King does not exist! He's an abomination of your pathetic alternate reality!"

"It's a different name, but it's the same being. That's what you and the others like you fail to realize. The name means nothing." She replied angrily. "I've seen Rita's named Bandera, Zedd's named Death or Destruction, Kimberly's named Katherine, Katherines born late and emerging as Kira …the name means nothing, it's the soul of the being and their contribution to the time marker, history propelling itself forward in a …."

"There is only one truth!" Netau hissed. "And you and your will kind perish in its wake!"

"If I had a dime for every time I've heard that old line…" Tommy muttered.

"You've forgotten one key factor." Ulysses interrupted, and Netau turned to glare at him menacingly. "Ivan doesn't exist in the Modified UAC universe. There's no primordial ooze for you to steal."

"No, I think that's precisely his point." Kim interjected before Netau could. "He'll obtain the ooze here and then change the timelines to create a universe where he'll be the only one with Ivan's power."

Netau cackled. It wasn't any form of true laughter, but could best be described as a hiccupping sort of screech. "Your perception does, on occasion, deserve commending."

"Great…" Tommy supplied sarcastically under his breath. "So he changes the whole universe to fit his definition, then emerges as that dimension's Ivan."

"And in a universe run by evil, that would be a powerful position." Ulysses added in disgust. There was nothing worse than a traitor.

"So you orchestrated everything? The Equal Waves that are wiping out both our history and our future?" Curtis asked.

"Equaline waves." Netau hissed. "You really are the ignorant renegade history portrays you as, aren't you? Never quite living up to your potential."

Curtis's temper flared and his fists balled, but he held himself in check. He'd had enough of the albino. It was time to end it. A quick look in Tommy's direction proved Kimberly's husband was in agreement.

"The Equaline waves," Netau sniffed derisively. "Were merely an unexpected bonus which propelled the grand design into fruition slightly earlier than had otherwise been contemplated."

"In other words, you goofed, but you're going to pretend that was your plan all along." Kim supplied, earning her another angry hiss from her nemesis.

"I miscalculated." He returned definitively.

"Yes, you miscalculated." Ulysses interrupted, shooting Kim an impatient look. "But not just here. They won't trust you Netau. The forces of evil are a suspicious lot, always waiting for the next scheme, the next betrayal that threatens their control. They may give you an important title, slaves to command, but they'll never trust you with anything real. You betrayed your own kind, they know you'll betray them."

"By then I'll be immortal, so it won't matter in the least…will it." Netau unexpectedly supplied before he could stop himself.

"Of course…" Kim whispered, almost under her breath. "The primordial ooze has the power to create life. It perpetually restored Ivan. As Netau bonds with it….he'll be elevated to the status of the immortals."

"It took you long enough to figure that out, didn't it?" He replied in an amused voice, "Only at the end of your pathetic little unauthorized tale, do you understand…you and the rest of your irreverent lot, will be forgotten in an instant… but I will go on forever…"

"You're mistaken." Tommy growled, as battle surge of adrenaline coursed through him and he shifted into a fighting ready stance.

Netau was no different than any other villain he'd faced. Perhaps, if Kim was right, slightly more powerful than anything he'd faced, but no different than Zedd in his quest for power, Mondo in his attempt to eradicate humanity, or Mesogog in his quest to form the perfect world…and just like all those before him, the albino was going down.

Netau surveyed the shift in Rita's former evil green with amusement; he was predictable to the end. How glorious it would be to restore him to the rank of evil Prince and once that happened, what reflective humor they would find over his contemptible, unworthy obsession with Zordon's favorite pink.

History recorded Tommy would turn to his evil side not once, but several times. He was going to make sure the next subscription into the service of the Empire remained permanent.


	13. Chapter 13: The Storm

Hartland

By: KSuzie

Chapter 13: The Storm

* * *

_All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney and everything else belongs to me._

Author's note: Happy Valentine's Day!

* * *

Tommy watched Kim face off with Netau from across the rocky creek bed, a sinking feeling pulling at his gut. It was a no win situation and he wondered if she knew that. The other guardian wasn't thinking rationally; at least, he didn't think he was. He understood the general basics of what they were arguing about, but not the specifics; how could he? This was obviously an internal conflict within the guardian community, but it affected him directly because his wife was at the center of it.

As things built to a critical point, he watched carefully, ready to assist in any capacity he could, but then something strange happened. It began to rain. Not the slight dripping of a gentle winter drizzle, but a full blown, summer-like deluge. In an instant, the thickly clouded sky above had simply opened up and a torrent of water let loose.

Kim blinked several times as the unexpected downpour flattened her hair and poured off her face; carefully watching in case the sudden storm was some kind of trick. It was a cold, thick, wintery rain that chilled to the bone and was extremely uncharacteristic for that time of year. Netau seemed un-phased, simply holding his ground in front of her as first one, and then all of his companions turned and ran for cover.

"This valley floods without warning!" Curtis called from behind her. "We need to move to safety."

She didn't turn, kept her eyes squarely rooted to the other guardian, but she could sense the Western Ranger move closer to Ulysses and help the old man up. She watched as Netau's eyes tracked the movement and prepared herself in case he attacked again, but instead, a thunderbolt boomed from overhead with enough force to send vibrations rolling through her and an instant later he was gone.

She blinked again and held her ground, staring into the empty space; fearful it was some kind of illusion or trick. A few seconds later, she felt Tommy's hands on her shoulders and realized her nemeses had actually retreated, but her body had a difficult time standing down; it remained stiff and alert. Her husband's hands then slid from her shoulders to her waist and gently pulled her backwards.

"It's over Beautiful." He said above the sound of the pouring rain.

"No." She answered, shaking her head firmly in denial. "It isn't that simple."

"It is for now." He returned. "We need to get out of this valley and regroup."

* * *

William paced the length of the large stone fireplace restlessly, back and forth, hardly aware of his behavior. His father had gone to bed, brushing off his attempts to speak with him, and promising him that whatever he thought was so important could easily wait until the morning when he'd had a chance to rest.

The temperature had dropped as the sun set and a howling, banshee like, wind whipped freezing rain past the protective cover of the front porch and thrashed it against the thin glass of the room's window. The fierce winter-like storm matched his mood and he didn't miss the irony of it.

The fire had been banked for the night, but the glowing embers provided little warmth against the cold seeping in through the cracks in the window and door; blowing past him like a teasing spirit. He stopped his progress as a particularly nasty gust rustled the curtains and brushed past him with enough force to lift the blond locks that had broken free of their confining leather band.

With an exaggerated sigh, he stepped to the wood pile and added a few more logs, watching the flames grow brighter with their new offering. Poking it a bit to make sure it would continue to build, he turned and sat down upon the stone hearth, allowing the warmth of the growing fire to warm his backside.

He didn't know what to do. Kimberly hadn't had a chance to speak with him before leaving for Zordon's Command Center and he was pretty sure her husband hadn't had a chance to talk to her either. His heart ached with uncertainly.

His father had made it clear that the return of Calamity Kim would in no way interfere with his son's return to school. As long as the railroad stayed open and the stage could get him to the nearest station, he'd be returning to his studies immediately after the Christmas break.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy school. He honestly liked campus life and the freedoms it offered, but it wasn't where he needed to be or what he needed to be doing. Rangering aside, he had his father's health to consider. He'd returned home the previous spring, stunned and dismayed by how rapidly his father's health had deteriorated and skipped the fall semester, but continued his studies at home via correspondence. He'd felt strongly at the time that he needed to remain at home and to help out and now that Calamity Kim was back, felt even stronger that the Great Power needed him to stay put.

Doc Cranston hadn't been what anyone would consider youthful when his youngest child had been born; neither had William's mother. From all the stories he'd heard, they'd been stunned to discover she was expecting again. She'd been almost fifty years old and his father nearly a decade older than that. His next oldest sibling had been twelve and the oldest already attending college back east.

William had been a sickly child. Born small and too early, he'd had what people generally referred to as "failure to thrive." Each winter, he'd been plagued with pneumonia and coughed and wheezed with asthma even on the warmest days of summer. He'd needed thick spectacles to see, was lactose intolerant, had been slow to walk and talk, and was just generally small feeble looking.

His mother had passed away when he was eight and although his father had done his best, he was a lonely child. Sheltered and protected because of his frailty, he wasn't allowed to play outside with the other boys. He'd spend almost every hour of every day reading and had generally been considered by his peers and adults alike to be socially inept.

When his father was paying attention, he'd do his schoolwork; hours and hours of French and Latin and History and Math. When his father was out on a call or busy in his clinic, he'd read the coveted leather volumes of the Iliad, Odyssey, and other classical adventures. Occasionally, he'd get his hands on some of the more popular penny stories of western legends and thrilled to the nonsensical adventures they exposed him to.

If his body was not exactly robust, his mind was. He had the most expansive imagination of anyone he knew and he used it to take himself far away from the confining walls of his father's home.

His father had never, in a million years, anticipated he'd send his youngest son away to school; it just wasn't physically possible for the boy. The arrival of Calamity Kim had changed that.

It had been mischief that had landed him his first morpher; even he wouldn't deny that. His father had been as terrified for him as he was furious. He had demanded Kim take it away from him immediately, but that first battle had been against nothing more than a few monsters and not a long campaign. The morpher had come into his hands, he'd fought one battle, and then Kim had taken it back and left; no one thought she'd be returning just a summer later.

The physical effects of that first exposure, however limited, couldn't be denied. He suddenly had boundless energy. His allergies and asthma were gone and he could run and play for hours on end. By the time of Calamity's return, he'd sprouted an astonishing eight inches, catching up to and then surpassing the tallest of his peers, and gained at least fifteen pounds. By the time she left again, he hadn't needed his spectacles, except to read at night, and was well on his way to becoming a fairly tall teenage boy with every promise of developing into a robust and very handsome man.

Now he was grown, or pretty close to it, but his father, unfortunately, still treated him like the sick little boy of his childhood. He had made the decision to send William to his brother in Chicago when he was sixteen and decided that his son would study medicine before returning to Angel Grove. He had also decided that William should put any foolish or romantic thoughts about Allison out of his mind forever.

William was fine with being sent back east to school. He was fine with living with his brother for a while, he was fine with studying medicine, he was fine with coming back to Angel Grove and being it's doctor; what he wasn't fine with, was leaving Allison behind.

The feelings he had for her rocked him to his very core. She was his soul mate, always had been. He had loved her since they were both confined as children to the nursery upstairs from his father's clinic. They had grown up together, fallen in love as they grew into adulthood, and now loved each other with a ferocity that few would ever know or understand.

But how could he explain that to his father? His mother had died long before he'd had any real concept of what his father's feelings for her were or what their relationship had been like. William had still been a small child and the only evidence he'd had of his parents regard for one another had been his father's deep depression following her death and the painful observance that marked the remembrance of her birthday or anniversary; as well as the general bleakness of the holidays that followed.

How could he explain that the fire that burned in his soul for the girl he loved wasn't a limited, temporary infatuation born of simply not knowing any better. He'd spent two and a half years in Chicago and hadn't found anything that could possibly compare to the friendship, closeness, and passion of his secret childhood sweetheart.

It wasn't lack of experience. There had been more than one girl who'd been more than happy to educate him in what he'd been missing while shut up in a small town. He had grown tall and strong and muscular and that, combined with his thick blond hair and piercing blue eyes had set more than one loose skirt chasing after him. He'd taken his father's advice, had enjoyed the company of many young women of appropriate age and family rank, as well as several older and less reputable women, but it had left him empty and hollow. Returning to Angel Grove, seeing Allison for the first time in over two years, had been like a thunderbolt straight through his chest. He knew then and there that there would never be another woman for him; she was everything.

A sudden gust of wind pounded at the door and it rattled against the hinges, the heavy bolt protesting, but refusing to give way; a living metaphor to the emotions that whipped and pounded inside him. Standing, he turned and leaned one arm against the heavy mantle, resting his chin in the crook of his arm and staring blankly at his mother's collection of figurines and photos that hadn't moved an inch since the time of her death. He was nineteen, almost twenty years old. He was no longer a boy and no longer subject to his father's orders. He was a grown man, he was a Ranger; it was time he squared his shoulders and acted like one.

* * *

Kim shivered as she added a little more coal to the grate in the fireplace of their small room. Making sure it was banked well enough for the night, she turned and half climbed, half jumped over her husband and crawled quickly under the covers; pulling them all the way up to her chin and shivering violently again. Outside, the wind howled and the rain pounded against the little window of their room; the delicate lace curtains blowing back and forth in-between the heavier velvet ones.

"Cold?" Tommy asked in an amused tone and in response she placed both frozen hands through the opening of his night shirt and against his chest, grinning wickedly when he exclaimed in protest.

"I can't believe how fast the temperature dropped." She grumbled, pulling her hands back yet not resisting when he drew her close against his chest and wrapped his strong arms around her; rubbing her back briskly to try and help her warm up.

"It doesn't help that we all got soaked to the bone." He replied, leaning down to kiss the top of her head as she snuggled against him. He was also cold and she was soft and warm and he was very grateful to have her curled next to him in the small bed.

For a moment, he contemplated trying to remove her thick cotton nightgown and letting her know just how glad he was to have her all to himself, but he suppressed the thought and decided to hold off for a few minutes. She was obviously exhausted from whatever had happened to her during the phase and from her encounter with Netau. Thick, dark circles rimmed her eyes and there was sag to her shoulders that he didn't like.

He'd been anxious to pepper her with a thousand questions he wanted answered, but the journey back to the ranch had been slow and torturous and he had thought better of it. Alicia had returned earlier in the afternoon before the storm hit and had met them with at the door with dry clothes and a hot supper, but one look at the thick shadows under Kim's eyes had set her fussing at them to stop their needless chatter and find their beds until the storm had passed. Despite his reluctance to retire without a plan for the coming morning, he was grateful for the suggestion to turn in early and hadn't fought her.

Now however, with his wife pressed up against him and the warmth of their bodies eliminating the last of the cold chill that had settled in their bones, he wasn't so sure he wanted to let her fall asleep just yet. This was the first time they'd been alone in a bed together since they'd arrived and he was loath to miss an opportunity to take advantage of the situation. Active missions were always stressful and chaotic and who knew when they'd get more free time together.

Her breathing, however, had already slowed and steadied and once again he paused initiating anything in order to asked himself if he shouldn't wait. She was tired and needed sleep and it was far more important that she rest and recover in case they were called back to action again suddenly, but he was also acutely aware of her very soft and feminine body cuddled up against his. Despite the thick socks on her feet, the long granny style nightgown had left her legs bare and they were silkily intertwined with his own; torturing him.

She was, perhaps, the single most intoxicating female he had ever known. The simple flutter of her eyelashes had been able to twist him into knots since he was a boy and adulthood hadn't lessoned his response to her. The familiar smell of her, laced with the new smells of lavender soap from the little bathroom behind the kitchen, drew out an innate, pheromone driven, primal response that demanded satisfying.

She was his; she was his wife. After years apart, after countless nights of sleeping alone or with a female that just wasn't quite the perfect match, the one girl he had loved with all his heart and soul was finally his and his alone. The physical response to that realization was as sharp and keen as any call to battle. He wanted her, needed her, and refused to wait.

"You asleep?" He asked softly, thinking that, if she responded, maybe it wasn't too late to press the issue. Unfortunately, she didn't answer and he frowned deeply in frustrated disappointment; lips pulling together in a boyish pout.

Her head was heavy against his chest and shoulder, her leg tucked softly through his. One of her arms was nestled neatly against his side and the other had come to a rest loosely across his abdomen and hip.

The Ranger in him knew she needed the rest, the husband in him was just enough worried about her to want her to sleep and regain her strength, but in the end, he was a twenty-eight year old man with the woman he adored to pressed suggestively against him under the covers. Somehow, of its own violation, his hand had continued to tug and pull the long nightdress up around her waist and as his fingers trailed the soft skin at the small of her back, he knew there was no letting her sleep.

Turning her over so that her head rolled lightly back against the pillows, he leaned down to press against her and tenderly spread slow and skillfully placed, suggestive kisses down her long neck and then back up the curve of her jaw to her chin; gently biting and nuzzling the yielding surface of her soft flesh, increasing the pressure as he went and becoming more fevered as he traveled down to the tiny loose buttons fastened at her throat and then across to the other side. She made a muffled, sleepy moan of protest, eyes fluttering open, but when he stopped his detailed attentions long enough to raise his head and meet her eyes, she simply smiled warmly at him, then raised her treasured lips to his in a deep and welcoming invitation; hands quietly sliding down his back and encouraging him to continue his heated worship of her body.

* * *

Caroline laid the fountain pen in its holder on the small writing desk, then raised the envelope up and blew gently on the ink to dry it. Carefully, she placed it to one side and picked up the white leafs of Doc's stationary to examine the contents.

She hadn't written her in-law's since shortly after her son's birth, now she wrote to tell them of the double tragedy that had rocked her world in less than twenty-four hours. Most of the long letter focused on the loss of her son and the funeral that followed; adding only that his father followed little Frank to heaven a few hours later. Oddly, she couldn't bring herself to go into any more details of her husband's demise. She was sure they had very few illusions of their son. He had always been a handful, always a source of worry, and she doubted they'd be shocked by his less than prestigious end.

She herself wasn't surprised by it, she thought bitterly to herself, had actually expected it and wondered morbidly what had taken it so long to occur; worse, she didn't care. She felt absolutely nothing upon the death of the man she'd been married to for the last decade; except, perhaps, a melancholic relief that it was over. Placing the paper back down on the desk, she rose and left the pages exposed to the air. Her brain was still fuzzy from the Laudlum and she wanted to wait until it cleared before examining them again.

Closing the lid on the ink bottle, she stretched and rubbed her neck, then stood and crossed the small space between the desk and her bed. A little trundle had been set up to the side and her daughter slept peacefully in it. She smiled softly as she bent down, pulling the thick covers over the child and tucking her in a little tighter; wishing she was as free from worldly concerns and could sleep as peacefully.

Standing up again, she made her way to the opposite side and crawled under her own thick blankets and quilts; grateful for the snug little room Doc had provided for them. She could hear the storm outside, feel the wind shake the structure, but theirs was an inner room with no windows and very warm and secure. Their own home wasn't nearly as sturdy.

Thoughts of the farm brought her back to reality somewhat. Like it or not, life would go on, and there was always work to be done. Curtis had promised to be there for her and help her in any way he could, but a decision would have to be made fairly soon if she was going to stick it out in Angel Grove or return to Chicago.

She didn't want to go back to her father and stepmother. Neither would want her and the idea of returning to her father's wife's home was simply more than she could stomach; returning to her in-law's with her tail between her legs wasn't exactly appealing either. She doubted they'd be thrilled to take her in, but she was their son's widow and duty would oblige them to. She would be a huge imposition, but at least her daughter would be well educated and might have a chance at making a good marriage when she was older.

The only other option was to stay put, but that wasn't very alluring either. Running the farm had exhausted her to the bone and she had very little to show for it. They were constantly short, constantly behind, but maybe that would change now that her husband wasn't around to sink them further into debt at every unexpected turn. Still, farm life was hard; especially on a woman bred for parlor life.

If she was smart, she'd sell everything and head back east as soon as possible. Burden or no, if she went back home, she would be provided for. There would be no more rising with the sun and falling exhausted into her cold bed in the late hours of the night. No more wondering how one bill or another would be paid, no more fretting that the cellar wasn't nearly full enough to see them through winter. There would be pretty dresses, soft shoes, and long tub baths. Her daughter would go to a good school, meet all the "right" people, have a chance at the life she should have been born to… but Caroline would have absolutely no say in their lives; she'd be at the mercy of others to make decisions for her.

The last thought made her even more hesitant to simply pack up and leave. She'd be right back to where she'd been at seventeen; in home where she wasn't wanted and not respected. The thought was less than appealing, but she knew it was only her pride that made her think that way. Pride, however, wouldn't fill her daughter's belly and keep them safe. The west was a dangerous place for a woman on her own without a husband. Like it or not, she needed protection…her daughter needed protection.

Her mind, wandering over the possibilities, the pros and the cons, drifted back to her conversation with Curtis that morning. He had been so gentle in the way he'd broken the news to her; as if it was really dreadful news that she would be crushed over. The sad truth was that there had been no love whatsoever between her and Francis for years, if ever, and she had honestly taken the news of his death with very little feeling. Her sole attention had been on the way he'd kindly taken her hand in his, laying his other hand on top of it, clasping the once manicured, but now calloused palm and fingers gently yet firmly; as if to give her strength and hope and urging her not to despair.

Despair had been the last emotion coursing through her. She had cried the despair out of her system the previous day, leaving a hollow and empty shell behind, but as those strong yet gentle hands covered hers, it was as if lightening itself had struck her; recharging her with an energy she hadn't felt in years.

She'd begun to tremble and he simply held her hands more tightly, assuming she was distraught and promising her that he'd see to her welfare and that of her daughter's. He'd assured her that he'd be there for them, as if he hadn't been the one holding things together for the last several years, that he was sending men to tend to her farm while she was at Doc's, and had even offered them a room in his home until spring or whenever she felt strong enough to continue.

The thought of moving into his house filled her with a dreadful sort of wicked anticipation. It would be so easy to allow her mind to wander towards all sorts of improper thoughts, but she kept them tightly reigned. He was a good man and a good neighbor coming to her aide. She would work in his kitchen and on his ranch in return for a warm and safe room for her and her daughter; nothing more. That was all he was offering and she needed to keep that firmly in mind while considering it.

Still, seeing him on a daily basis instead of once in a while through chance encounters…it would be a dream of sorts. The logical side of her knew she should return to Chicago, but the woman in her kind of wondered what a winter under Curtis Hart's roof would be like.

In reality, she told herself sternly, she would most likely learn firsthand that he was a far cry from the storybook hero she dreamed of, but a real man with very real shortcomings… but the day-dreamy, wistful side of her couldn't resist the opportunity.

Traveling with a child on a very long journey at the start of winter wouldn't be easily, she reminded herself. They would be cold and tired and worn out for several weeks before arriving on her in-law's doorstep. Kelly Ann was her only surviving child, it would be irresponsible of her to risk her health. She could wait until late spring or early summer, when the winds of her hometown blew less frigidly.

In the meantime, she would accept Curtis's offer to shelter them through the winter. She would allow him to send hired hands to keep her farm running until spring and then she'd sell it. It was best to travel in the late spring anyway. She would be her in-law's poor relation soon enough.

* * *

Abraham rocked slowly back and forth in his prize wooden rocker, absorbing the heat from the large hearth and re-reading his telegram over and over; comparing it to the pretty girl in the photo his nephew had sent from Japan the previous year. The girl was his nephew's wife's older brother's sister in law, who had been widowed two years before.

He hadn't honestly thought to be given a pretty young girl when he'd written home and asked his family to send him a wife three years ago. He'd simply realized that he was getting older and had no children and asked for a woman who was strong and sturdy and could possibly still produce a son for him.

He wasn't an older son, but he'd originated from a good family, and that in itself produced a complication in finding the right spouse for him. After nearly forty years in Angel Grove, he had a good, solid little homestead just beyond the small but growing nihonmachi section of town with a large grove of citrus trees and a great many varieties of plants in his manicured garden to make good tea blends. He had put away a good amount of money through selling his herbal remedies and fancy teas; even becoming fairly respected by the inhabitants of the town.

He was not a young man, but he thought perhaps the family of a plain looking young woman past her prime marrying years or perhaps a youngish widow might consider him a fairly good catch. He'd asked for a good solid woman who would be content to make her home in a foreign desert and who wouldn't pine for the gardens of her homeland. He didn't need a silly young thing to look after. He needed a sturdy woman to take care of herself and his home and make life more comfortable for him.

He didn't delude himself. He was in good shape still, very strong and capable, but he was also well over half a century old. His father was apparently still in pretty good shape back home, his grandfather was also still living, and his great grandfather was reportedly almost a hundred and ten before he expired, so he assumed he still had many good years left; but he wasn't what Curtis would call a young buck either.

A wife was a good decision. She could care for him as he aged, give him company on cold nights, and, with any luck, give him a son or two. It wasn't much to ask for.

When a letter had come back a little over two years before, demanding a completely outrageous sum to handle the contract and transportation of what he assumed would be a simple picture bride, he'd balked and grumbled for a full summer, then made arrangements to travel to San Francisco to sign the paperwork and deposit his money.

To his consternation, the Chinese Immigration Act of 1880 had made arranging himself a bride from home painfully difficult. He didn't understand why, he was Japanese, not Chinese, but the locals didn't seem to understand the difference and the paperwork had been time consuming and frustrating. In the end, he'd paid out a lot more than the sum his nephew had demanded, but it was done and he'd hope it'd be worth it. He could almost guarantee that he'd been taken advantage of by the so called "immigration agents" but what else was he to do? He considered himself very Americanized, but not to the point where he'd take a non Japanese wife.

Seven long months later, a letter had arrived confirming the funds had been received and a wife selected. She was a widow, but his nephew assured him that she was still young and very strong. Her husband had died two years previously and she was now a dependent in his wife's parent's household. That little bit of news tweaked him a bit. If he was alleviating a burden on his nephew's family, then why did he have to pay such a high bride price for a used bride? But the qualms he might have had were lessoned when he scanned the photograph. It was clear and sharp and stamped just one year before.

His new bride, Hanako, appeared to be very young, but of more notice was that she was also very beautiful, lifting her eyes very shyly and modestly to the camera. He'd found himself instantly infatuated with her.

Now, finally, the telegram had come to let him know that she had passed through San Francisco's Angel Island into San Francisco proper. She would travel to Angel Grove by wagon train; escorted by a local agency specializing in foreign brides.

Part of him was a little nervous now that he knew she'd left San Francisco. She knew she was marrying an older uncle from her in-law's family and had met his eldest brother, who had helped arrange her transport. She knew he was not young, but did she know how old he was?

He chomped on his pipe, clenching it between his teeth, and leaned back in the wide rocking chair, feet outstretched toward the fire as the storm wailed its misery outside his sturdy cabin. In less than a week he'd have more than a fire and hot water bottles to keep him warm.

* * *

William halted his progress up the stairs when a large bang thudded from the landing above. He glanced cautiously at the stairs leading upwards to the old nursery that he'd shared for several years with Allison and their nurse, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

He had moved out of the top floor room shortly after Calamity's first visit, when he'd begun to get stronger and hadn't needed the constant care of his nurse anymore. The nurse had stayed on until the end of Kim's second visit, when Allison had begun to communicate fluently with them and it was obvious her services weren't needed anymore. Allison had kept the room as hers though, and his heart thudded with concern as he listened for more sounds.

She should have been fast asleep by that hour and he wasn't sure what could have fallen over and made that loud of a noise. He listened for a few more seconds, but all he heard was the torrent of rain and wind outside. He paused for just a second longer, hesitant to break the house rules that very clearly stated he wasn't allowed up the last flight of stairs to her room, then bounded the steps two at a time and paused outside her door.

Once there, he hesitated again, not sure what he was supposed to do. She couldn't hear him knock, but he really couldn't just open the door and walk in. Turning the knob cautiously, he found it unlocked, which surprised him. He supposed it shouldn't, the Rangers had all returned to Curtis's ranch and the only patient downstairs was Mrs. Carson and her daughter. He paused again, unnerved by the darkness beyond. It could have been a tree limb bumping against the house or it could have been the noise of a crash in the alleyway that had simply been carried by the wind.

At the sound of a muffled sob though, he burst inward, the door banging into the wall behind it. Heart pounding and expecting trouble, he was stunned to find her, not in her bed, but huddled behind the wardrobe. The room was dark, but in order, the moonlight through the window casting creepy shadows across the walls. Rain pounded against the wooden roof above, but he could see nothing amiss except for a loose shutter swaying back and forth against the glass.

Double checking that he hadn't missed something, he crossed the shadowy room quickly and knelt down to her. She jumped at first, making a strange and peculiar, terrified noise, then, realizing it was him, threw her arms around his neck and clung to him for dear life.

He was honestly dumbfounded. Nothing seemed wrong, yet she was obviously scared. She couldn't hear the storm or the rain pounding against the roof, but the room was dark and she was alone. Scanning the room a third time, he noticed the changes that had taken place since he'd moved downstairs.

There was only the one large bed that the nurse had previously occupied, their little trundles were long gone, long shelves of toys had been replaced with books and magazines, and most notably, a small sitting room now occupied the space by the small coal fireplace where their desks had been situated in a make-shift classroom. The A framed room, with its sloping ceiling, brought back a flood of childhood memories, but as hard as he tired, he could find nothing that could have frightened her so badly.

Prying loose the vice grip she had on his neck, he peeled her arms free and placed his hands firmly on either side of her sobbing face, forcing her to look at him. "What?" He signed, not sure if she could see him or not in the dim light.

"Monster!" She signed back, bursting into tears.

Instantly, he was back on alert again. These were not normal days. Calamity Kim was back in town and the Rangers activated. He'd been given his coin and his morpher back and knew that Murdock and Sirius served a new master. Cautiously, he slowly pushed her from him and stood.

The attic room wasn't overly large, but it wasn't small either. The rain pounding against the slanted wood roof made it almost impossible to hear anything that might be shuffling around in the darkness. He edged to the window, cautiously examining each corner and shadow as he went.

Assuring himself it was secure, he checked the latch and found it strongly fastened. Years ago, it had been reinforced to keep two overly mischievous children from sneaking out when their nurse wasn't looking and he was certain anything trying to sneak in would have had an unexpectedly difficult time releasing it.

Backing away, he continued to investigate the sleeping and sitting area, even checking through her sewing basket and piles of mending. The room was locked up tightly; nothing was inside. As one last precaution, he checked the coal burning fire place, examining the flume and the grate, before adding a few more coals to its glowing embers and backing away.

Assured that all was well inside the room, he returned to Allison and urged her up, promising her that she was safe and that he was there to protect her. He walked across the room with his arms protectively around her and sat her down in a small wingback chair by the burning coals; then lit the oil lamp on the table next to it so that they could converse more easily.

Pulling up a small footstool and sitting next to her, he asked, "What happened?"

"I didn't imagine it." She began with shaking hands. "I saw it."

"I'm not saying you didn't," He returned. "Was it inside the room or outside the window?"

"Outside." She answered, and he rose and walked to the window once more, taking his time examining the frame, the latch, and peering out cautiously to either side of the gabled roofline. Whatever had been there, wasn't there now.

Shutting the heavy curtains, he turned back to her. "I don't see anything." He signed. "Whatever was there, it's gone now."

"It was there." She insisted, eyes still frightened. "I didn't dream it. I wasn't asleep, I was lying in bed thinking of everything that's been happening and the movement caught my eyes. At first I thought maybe a tree branch had broken loose, but when I went to check, it was on the other side of the glass looking back at me and trying to get in. It was awful!" She signed, a soft wail escaping her throat and punctuating the movements of her hands. "Scary, ugly, mean….big teeth…cruel eyes. "

William nodded several times as he returned to the stool and sat down. "I believe you." He assured her. "Miss Kim's back in town, strange things are bound to happen more frequently. The moon isn't full yet, so I doubt it was Murdock. Could have been one of his minions though. I'm sure he'll let them run freer now that his new master has him feeling more powerful."

He reached out and took her hands in his, kissing them and then giving them a tight squeeze. In response, she pulled her hands free and threw her arms around his neck, transferring herself from the chair into his lap; shivering.

Monsters were nothing new in Angel Grove. Even in quiet times they sometimes made appearances, but nothing had ever crept to her third story garret window and stared back at her. She'd flown from the bed to hide behind the wardrobe and the next thing she knew, William had been there. She'd never been more grateful to see him in her entire life. Propriety be damned, she wasn't about to let him leave her alone in the attic room again.

William patted Allison's back stiffly at first, very much aware that she was wearing only in her night clothes, and then with more softness as she calmed and the close, familiar contact of their bodies began to override the unusualness of the situation. They had never been completely alone together and he hadn't seen her in a nightgown since she was a very little girl. Despite the cold floor, her feet were bare and he could easily see the very feminine shape of her legs as well as the soft exposed skin of her ankles. Cautiously, he watched the door in case his father had heard the same noise he had and chose to investigate. It wouldn't do at all for him to be caught in her room, a room he'd been sternly and vociferously banned from, let alone caught holding her in his lap while she was dressed so scantily.

The concept that he was in her room on the top floor of the house where no one ventured, that she was only in her nightgown, that she was in his arms and pressed against him, began to sink through him like whiskey burning down his throat and setting fire to his belly. His body began to absorb her warmth and then radiate with his own. Before he even realized what he was doing, he'd lowered his head to hers and begun kissing her soundly.

This, however, was not a kiss stolen in the back kitchen where they could easily be caught. Familiar caresses were not hindered by layers of skirts and stockings; they met with bare skin and resonated with a fire that burned hotter than the coals in the grate next to them. She also, to his complete surprise, didn't stop him, but return his ardor with an eagerness that astonished him.

Frightened to her core by the image beyond the window, she clung to him, desperately needing his closeness, the security and safety he offered. It was a clinginess at first derived from the need to feel protected and then from a the ignition of a young passion neither of them completely understood or could control. Both of them knew they needed to bring the impromptu love play to an end, but both were also intoxicated by the intensity of emotions and feelings that neither had imagined possible.

William was not inexperienced; he knew what would come next if they didn't stop, he simply couldn't bring himself to disengage himself. This wasn't a tumble with a loose skirt he barely knew, it was the girl with whom he had just decided to defy his father for. He wouldn't return to Chicago, he was going to stay home and marry Allison. That decision, already a certainty in his mind, made it extremely difficult to break away from her. His hand slid truantly across the bare skin under her gown to regions as yet unexplored, sending exotic tremors reverberating through both of them.

With painful effort, when it became obvious she wouldn't deny him, he pushed her gently away and gasped for enough breath to restore control over his protesting body. Surprised, she watched him cautiously, the forbidden reality of their impromptu foreplay slowly sinking in and coloring her cheeks a bright red. Their eyes met, yet the regret both saw in each other's expression was not in the breaking of the social rules that both of them were bound to, but for the physical separation they had reluctantly imposed.

"I should go." He signed and began to stand.

Allison panicked. She didn't want to be left alone and despite the fact that she knew better, she didn't want him to leave. She wasn't entirely sure the monster wasn't still lurking somewhere along the rooftops, which fueled part of her need for him to stay, but she also didn't want him to put an end to his loving attentions. Alone in the little attic, his exploration of her body's most private areas was far different from anything she'd yet experienced. Her skin burned with a life of its own and her body ached from deep within; she wanted more. She stood and threw her arms around him again, pressing herself to him and shaking her head no.

"Allison." He cajoled, pushing her back far enough to see his hands. "If I stay…" He stopped and shook his head. He couldn't stay; it simply wasn't possible. His body burned and was already in intense pain from the need to finish what they had begun. He couldn't trust himself to stop again if they resumed; which he knew they would.

"Stay." She signed back, eyes meeting his with a pleading look. "Don't leave me alone."

He shook his head, assuming she didn't understand, but she placed both her hands on either side of his face and stood on tip toe to lift her lips silkily to his. It wasn't the chaste little kiss she'd give him below, but a newly learned, soft and inviting kiss of a young woman learning for the first time that she had the power to ignite and draw his attention towards her. "Stay." She repeated. "No one will come up the stairs. Your father is sound asleep on the first floor. There's no one to see or hear us."

William stared at her for several long seconds, honestly conflicted. He didn't want to go, wanted with all his heart to stay and share with her the type of love making he'd learned while away at school. His heart pounded mercilessly in his chest as he weighed the conflict within him. She was a good girl, the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. If they engaged in the type of behavior they were on the cusp of falling into…

Finally, he took both her hands in his and brought them to his lips, kissing her precious fingertips with all the sincere emotion of his heart. Bending down on one knee, he looked up at her earnestly and signed, "Marry me."


	14. Chapter 14: Growing Pains

Hartland

By: KSuzie

* * *

Chapter 14: Growing Pains

_All things Power Rangers belong to Disney or Fox and everything else belongs to me._

* * *

Kim spared a moment to breathe in the cool, predawn air around the large pond, before lowering the basket to the muddy shore. It was crisp and clean and smelled of wet grass, dirt, and water.

The pond didn't exist in her time. From what she could determine, the water supply had been shut off further upstream when Stone Canyon had implemented it's water allocation program in the early nineteen thirties. An artificial dam had been built to redirect water into the county reservoir, but when that dam had been destroyed at the turn of the twenty-first century, the pond hadn't returned; so she wasn't sure exactly what had happened to it.

She loved the little oasis. It was only a short walk from Curtis's house and she always tried to visit at least once, if not twice, when she visited. Quietly, so as not to disturb the fish, she retrieved a large tin cup from one of the baskets and stooped down at the water's edge, carefully dipping it below the water and raising it up to examine the contents. Satisfied, she returned to the basket and set it down.

"So tell me again why we're out here?" Tommy asked, following her to the edge of the water and setting down his basket next to hers. In his other hand were several long, cane poles and he leaned against them sleepily; blinking several times in the dim light.

It was a pretty little place. He couldn't remember a pond on her grandfather's property, but the land was so overgrown in their time that it could easily have been there and he'd never have known it. The pool was probably a little less than an acre in size and had clear water, without much in the way of algae growing in it. Rocks, tall grass, and reeds outlined its borders and only one, lonely white alder tree towered off to one side.

"Dinner." She answered simply, taking two of his poles and squatting down in the high grass off to one side. Reaching into the cup, she retrieved a small squirming minnow and skillfully plunged a sharp metal hook through its back.

"Dinner." He repeated dully, bringing the palm of his free hand up to rub his eyes; half to rub the sleep out and half not to think about the impaled minnow. "Before sunrise…that's good Kim."

He'd gotten maybe two or three hours of sleep, which would normally have been more than adequate, but he'd been sound asleep after a very enjoyable night and she'd been curled against him warm and soft… There'd been no real reason to force himself outside into a cold, wet morning…other than she was leaving him alone and he was curious as to what she was up to.

"The best time to fish is first thing in the morning, right after a big rain." She replied softly, "Now hush and sit down quietly. Do you need me to bait your hook for you?" She added, turning to look at him as she tossed the strings of her poles into the water. He watched passively as they plopped beneath the dark surface and two little brown corks popped back upward. He needed coffee.

Without waiting for him to act, she stood and quietly took the two remaining poles, then proceeded to bait the hooks with more of the little minnows she'd caught in the cup. Writhing offerings in place, she tossed the strings in the water next to their twins and laid back against the damp grass; cringing as leftover rainwater and morning dew absorbed through the layers of her clothing. She supposed, considering the storm the previous night, she should have brought a blanket with her, but the sun would be up soon enough and she didn't expect they'd stay too long.

Wordlessly, Tommy stepped forward and laid down next to her, instantly regretting it as the cold, rain soaked grass saturated his clothing as well. His wife was nuts, he concluded, then stretched broadly and went back to sleep.

* * *

Kim and Tommy weren't the only ones up at first light. Slinking back as quietly as he possibly could, William slid into his room, silently chastising himself for having fallen asleep. He didn't know what he'd been thinking.

He was not in the least bit remorseful that he had asked Allison to marry him, but he deeply regretted the lack of self control that sent them both tumbling through an out of control passion play which could possibly have serious consequences for them both. It had been unexpected and unrestrained and there was no doubt in his mind that he not only had to marry her, he had to marry her quickly.

There would be no avoiding the scandal that was about to burst wide open for everyone to see. He supposed they could, possibly, wait and pray that that there were no ramifications to their foolishness, but he wasn't sure he was inclined to do so. The more time they gave themselves, the more time his father would have to pack one or the other off to the other side of the country.

He was confident enough in his young manhood that he doubted his father would be successful in sending him away. He lacked money and he lacked a source of an income, but that was solved easily enough. Allison, however, would be easy to pack off on the next stage out of town and it could be months before he found her again.

He froze as the sound of steps on the wooden stairs caught his attention. He had left his new fiancé sound asleep in her bed and, for a moment, he was a little afraid she'd followed him and would stop and knock on his door. His room was not sequestered away from the rest of the household; it was directly next to his father's room. Doc would be waking soon and could easily hear her. It wouldn't do at all for them to be caught together in his room upstairs. Fortunately, she didn't stop, but continued on down to the kitchen to start the bread baking and prepare breakfast.

Exhaling forcefully, he decided he couldn't risk it. He had to act quickly. He'd ride out and speak with Kimberly first, then to Curtis. He doubted they'd be overly sympathetic to his cause, but he also doubted Curtis would refuse him a job or disagree he needed to make things right. With any luck, he could convince them both to speak with his father and, while they were interceding on his behalf, he'd steal her away to the fort at Stone Canyon. There was a minister there who didn't know either of them and who might be convinced to marry them quickly and without too many questions about how young she was or why they were in a rush.

Mind made up, he washed his hands and face, then put on a clean shirt. With a spring in his step, he pulled a loose board from the floor, revealing a small hidden compartment where he stored his life's savings and a few treasures. There wasn't nearly enough, but it would have to do. Silently, he stuffed the small wad of paper money and bag of coins in a saddle bag, then began to pack his clothes. There were just a few things that had to be set in place and then he and Allison would be together forever. The thought was actually liberating, like a huge weight had been lifted.

* * *

Abraham pulled the telegram from his pocket and re-read it for the thousandth time before folding it back again and stuffing it into his pocket. There would be another telegram when his new wife's caravan stopped at the fort in Stone Canyon and he'd make the long walk to check in with the telegraph office every day until it arrived.

He was about as apprehensive as he was eager. He had been a lonely bachelor for more than thirty years; since his last companion had passed away. She had been a good woman; the strong, if plain, mixed blood daughter of a railroad worker, but he'd never officially married her and she'd never expected him to.

She'd lost not one, but three children in childbirth or shortly afterward; which broke his heart. He hadn't loved her, but he'd cared about her. Unfortunately, he hadn't realized how much he'd cared for her until she'd died unexpectedly of a fever; leaving him alone in a silent house after nearly a decade of companionship.

He still felt a bit guilty about that. He'd never once blamed her for not giving him a son, but he'd let her assume that he did. It had been a foolish boy's pride, an adolescent's idea of how a man would act, that had let her live her life in guilt and longing for a child…and the man he had eventually grown into was still very ashamed of that.

If anything, he blamed himself for not being able to heal her after her last delivery, which had lasted nearly two full days; only to produce a set of malformed conjoined twins. It had been a bitter time, but he tried not to dwell on it. He'd been an active Ranger then and very busy. The timing had been all wrong…but still. Perhaps that was why he'd never sought out another companion; he didn't know. The years had passed, the memories of youth had clouded, and suddenly he was an old man. It stunned him how quickly that had happened.

Shaking such thoughts from his mind, he finished the last of his tea and then extinguished the fire that had warmed it. Locking the door behind him, he set off on the long walk toward Angel Grove.

* * *

Caroline was surprised to see the young deaf girl already in Doc's kitchen when she entered, but she was glad for the warmth the large black stove produced against the morning chill and glad for the smell of already brewing coffee.

"Is it ready?" She asked, motioning to the large black pot.

Allison followed her gesture and shook her head, motioning with her thumb and her index finger a slight distance apart to indicate just a little more time was needed. The older woman nodded, understanding, then wrapped her borrowed shawl more tightly around her shoulders. She didn't know if the garment belonged to the girl in front of her or if it was an old one that belonged to Doc's wife or daughters, but she was grateful for it.

The storm had passed, as had the worst of her overwhelming grief, but just as the rising sun indicated a new day was starting, so she would have to rise to meet it. There was work to be done and a daughter to raise; she would have to move on the best she could and ignore the aching void within her heart.

If she had been in her own home, things would have been easier. There were always a thousand things to be done on a farm, even one as small as hers, and it would have been easy to lose herself in the familiar routine of milking, feeding, baking, churning, and cleaning. Most days she would work flat out and fall asleep exhausted long after everyone else had retired, but Doc's small home in the middle of town was different.

She watched as the young girl took the cheese cloth off loaves of bread that had been left to rise and slid them in the little baking oven, then crumbled yesterday's hard left over bread into crumbs which she deposited into a pan with a mixture of stirred eggs and leftover meat and vegetables from the stew the previous evening. That too went into the oven and then she turned and proceeded to toss more flower and lard into a bowl for what Caroline presumed would be biscuits.

As the girl worked, a young boy entered and took two empty milk bottles and a tin pail, wordlessly leaving her two more bottles of milk and another tin of butter. He nodded at Caroline and tucked at his cap in her direction, but didn't in anyway indicate or acknowledge the deaf girl. Allison, for her part, continued about her morning chores as if she hadn't noticed him, although she reached for the milk and added a good bit of it to the bowl of flour.

A few minutes later an old woman arrived with eggs and took a few coins that had been left on the counter and then a boy from the butcher shop laid a small ham on the counter by the door, but none of them stopped to acknowledge Allison and all proceeded about their deliveries in a hurried manor, as if too busy to stop and pass a simple greeting.

Caroline was of two minds about this. The larger part of her was a bit envious of the deliveries. She thought about how nice it would be for someone else to gather the eggs, churn the butter, and milk the cow; all Allison had to do was cook it once it arrived on her counter. The other part of her was a bit indignant by the way the delivery people completely ignored the girl. All they had to do was motion to her and nod their heads, but in unison they simply dropped their goods and left without even the simplest of courtesy.

The deaf girl, for her part, appeared oblivious to the lack of courtesy, as if that was the way it had always been and always would be. She kept her eyes focused on her tasks and her hands busy with the work she had to do.

After a while, Caroline rose and removed a mug from the cupboard, then poured herself a cup of coffee. The girl tried to shoo her, making motions to indicate she'd serve the older woman, but she waved her away, added a little milk to her mug from the bottle on the counter and sat back down. Allison seemed to accept her actions as easily as she accepted the behavior of the delivery people, and simply continued on with her morning work; dumping the doughy biscuit mixture on the wood counter and rolling it out.

Only when William entered did the girl show any excess of emotion at all. The older woman watched as Alison froze, as if she simply knew when the boy was near, then, when her eyes lifted from her work, they were full of adoration and longing; transforming her face and making her glow with happiness.

The site was unexpected and slightly unnerving. Caroline turned her head to regard Doc's youngest son and was struck by the realization that he wasn't a boy anymore at all, but practically a man grown. Staring harder at him, she realized that he was obviously just as smitten with the girl; which made her stomach sink hard. Even in tiny, dusty, Angel Grove, out in the middle of nowhere, such a match couldn't possibly be condoned. Doc was a wealthy and well respected member of the town and it's council; his son would have to look higher than the housemaid.

The exchange though, however revealing, was incredibly brief. Once William realized there was someone else in the room, he masked his expressions quickly. He greeted the older woman cordially, then exchanged a polite greeting with the girl, but kept all affection he might have offered in privacy tightly held in check as he helped himself to the coffee. As he turned to leave, he politely offered Caroline a ride to Curtis's ranch as his father had instructed him to, then strode purposely from the room.

Caroline watched him leave then turned her gaze back to the girl, who had busied herself with morning's meal again. She knew all about young love. Young love was what had landed her Francis.

As she sipped her coffee, she wondered briefly if she should mention something to Doc before she left. He was getting older and was in poor health, but he had been a true friend to her in the past and she owed him a heads up that the children in his household might not be behaving appropriately. Then again, the exchange between William and Alison had been very brief and she honestly couldn't be sure that William had entirely reciprocated the adoration shining in the girl's eyes. It wasn't unusual for boys to take advantage of the relative privacy of staff living in the same household; her brothers were living proof of that. Perhaps it was better to wait and not upset Doc with something that could prove completely meaningless. She just wasn't sure.

* * *

Tommy woke to the feeling of warm sunlight on his face and the smell of wet, baking grass underneath him. Rolling from his side to his back, he realized he was practically soaked from head to toe and very sore from the hard ground. It surprised him that he'd fallen back into such a deep sleep, but he pushed the feeling away and focused on clearing his mind of the thick fog that the unexpected heavy slumber had induced.

Blinking, he squinted in the bright light and sat up with a little groan as the knotted muscles in his shoulders and back sternly reprimanded him. He spotted his wife not more than a second later and then realized what had jarred him from the heavy sleep.

She was cursing softly with a slew of surprisingly filthy words as she jammed a thrashing fish into one of the woven baskets. She latched the top irritably, then submerged it with an impatient shove back into a shallow pool surrounded by rocks. She turned then and waded out into the pond to retrieve one of the long cane poles that had darted away from her. As she went, she placed the skin between her thumb and index finger of her right hand in her mouth as if trying to suck the blood out of a particularly sore or nasty cut. He continued to watch as she grabbed the fleeing pole and drug it back to shore, then wrestled with the string until another protesting fish was pulled above the water. Sitting back down on the rocky lakeshore, she deftly removed the hook from its mouth and then added it to the same basket as the first.

"Looks like you're having some luck." He commented with an amused grin, and was rewarded when she looked up with a warm smile, letting him know she was pleased to see him awake.

"You sleep well?" She asked, rinsing her hands in the shallow water near the shore. "You snored so loud I was convinced it would scare off the fish."

"I slept hard." He replied, then lifted himself up with a little groan and walked a few paces over to her. "I can't remember the last time I slept so much." He added, taking a seat next to her and rubbing his eyes and face with his fingers.

"Part of it is the time zone lag, your Circadian rhythm needs to adjust to it. But part of it is also detachment from stress. You don't realize how much the normal everyday stuff in your life tires you out until you're suddenly removed from it. Kind of like a vacation."

"I'm not sure I'd call this a vacation Beautiful." He murmured, lowering his hands and regarding her frankly.

She grinned at him in sympathy, then raised her fingers to the short cropping of hair that, without the addition of his usual grooming products, curled haphazardly against his head. Gently, she brushed them to the side, but the soft, wayward curls stubbornly rebounded messily back in place, which caused her smile to brighten playfully as she remembered the longer curls of his youth; melting his heart like it always did.

She was soaking wet and her skirt and shirt were covered in mud, but the site was still enchanting. He wasn't sure what it was about her, but she'd held the power to mesmerize him ever since he could remember. The love he felt for her now was far different than the love he'd had for her as a girl, but it wasn't any less intense. There was a comfort in that; a general knowing that it had withstood the test of time and would always be there.

As if reading his thoughts, he watched the bright amusement in her eyes veil into a smoky softness which only intensified the emotion within him. Wordlessly, she lifted her mouth slowly to his, but the kiss didn't linger. Instead, to his disappointment, she pulled back, kissed his cheek gently a second time, then returned her attention to the basket she was still holding onto. It was heavy and waterlogged and difficult to readjust to a stable position in the shallow water.

"I stabbed myself with the hook." She commented, showing him a tiny puncture wound between her finger and thumb. "It was a stupid thing to do. Three poles took off at once and then I knocked the basket over. It's been a pretty good morning and I didn't want to lose all my hard work. Want to see?" She asked, lifting the lid carefully. "The other one's submerged over there" She added, pointing to another rocky outline not too far away. "But it's full already."

He leaned over indulgently, not really caring about the fish, but willing to humor her, and was stunned to see that it was almost full. He'd been cane fishing before with his dad and his uncle and knew it wasn't a particularly easy method of catching fish. Inside the large reed basket, there had to be at least two dozen or more long, thin fish; all in various stages of dying.

"Submerging the basket is about the only way to keep them fresh enough for Alicia to cook, but it's a pain in the butt." She added irritably. "It's way too easy for them to escape. Ideally, I guess I should stop and clean them, but then the flies get to them. I don't know which method is worse."

"What kind of fish is that?" He asked with a grimace. It was hard to think about cooking fish when he hadn't even had his morning's coffee yet.

They were small, the largest only about ten or eleven inches, and not exactly appetizing, but she'd caught enough of them to feed a small army. Looking closer, he saw that they were long and slim, primarily a dull silver with a slightly darker tail, and had long tendrils on either side of a grotesque, oversized head.

"White catfish." She answered absently, closing the lid and latching it. "Technically it's thought that they weren't introduced into California ponds until the mid 1870's but these have been plentiful here ever since my first visit, so I assume the introduction was a little earlier than people think. Alicia will be happy with us, she makes the best fried catfish."

"If you say so." He answered, grimace still in place. The thought of eating the ugly little fish was a bit more than his stomach was ready for.

"I need to wash the mud and fish slim off." She said absently, standing to stretch. "Want to join me?" She added mischievously, pulling off her soaking skirt and tossing it further up the bank.

"In there?" He asked, pointing to the water even as the removal of her shirt, exposing a soaking wet, old fashioned cotton camisole, made him think twice about refusing. "That water can't be more than fort-fifty degrees."

"Probably." She agreed, grinning impishly as she slowly removed her underclothes and tossed them back up the bank near the others. "But it's not so bad after the initial first shock."

Tommy groaned as she waded, completely naked, into the lake, then submerged herself; quickly swimming further out to the center. "Is it as cold as it looks?" He called, still reluctant but definitely interested in playing along if she insisted.

"Colder." She called back, challenging him.

He stalled, squirming a bit on the rock he'd chosen to watch her from and truly reluctant to enter the freezing pool; especially after he placed a few tentative fingers into the water to test it. He looked around futilely to see if anyone was nearby, and then tried reason with himself and decide if following his wife into the water was worth it; there was, after all, a perfectly warm and comfortable bed inside the house.

After a few more moments of indecision, remembering youthful summers at a much bigger lake, as well as the previous night they'd spent together, he decided the fun waiting for him was probably was, indeed, worth the pain of a little freezing water. Slowly, so he didn't disclose any sign of eagerness, he sat down and began to pull off his boots. From the middle of the pond, he could hear her laugh.

* * *

Caroline was surprised to see two trunks containing her belongings already waiting for her as she followed Alicia into the little upstairs bedroom. Although undersized, it was still larger than her bedroom at the farm and was big enough to hold a good sized double bed and wardrobe; as well as a small trundle for her daughter.

"The room's small and plain," Alicia commented as she gave it a once over with her eyes to make sure everything was in order, but it's the only one with its own sitting room off the side."

Without further explanation, she closed the main door to the room, revealing another door behind it. Opening it outward, Caroline was surprised to see another little room with a rocking chair and a small wingback chair separated by a little table. Off to the side was a little, feminine writing table and washstand and she also noticed the modestly tiled fireplace was actually a pass through, opening up to the other room.

"This was my room when I first came here." Alicia commented, noticing the dust on the sill of the window and removing a small rag from her apron pocket to wipe it. She'd been very proud of the little room, it was nicer than anything she'd ever occupied previously, and held an attachment to it even though she'd moved into the newer section of the house. "I moved downstairs when Curtis built the kitchen wing a few years ago. Then Miss Kimmee used it as her room for a while too, there aren't but two rooms below and she thought they were both decorated too mannish for her, but then she got the notion in her head last visit to move downstairs into the kitchen with me; I honestly don't know what possesses her sometimes."

Alicia frowned a little at the memory of Kim's previous visit; it had been longer than any of them had anticipated. Kim said she had tired of marching up and down the stairs to the little third floor room and taken over the little first floor kitchen office; although Alicia was pretty sure she'd done it specifically so that she could come and go through the kitchen without the rest of the house knowing what she was up to.

As was his way, Curtis hadn't had much to say about the exchange of living space, no matter how inappropriate, but instead of switching out the furniture from upstairs, had made the unusual move of opening up Caroline's boxes in the barn and utilizing the fancy furniture and textiles stored there; which hadn't made much sense to her at the time. She'd been sure he'd turn it back into an office once she'd left or, at the very least, move the fancy furniture to the other guest room upstairs where it would fit better, but he hadn't.

She wondered briefly what Caroline would think of that. The other woman had never had much good to say about Calamity Kim and, even though Curtis had bought the furnishings fair and square at auction, she doubted the other woman would be overly pleased to know some of them had been given to Curtis' "sister."

"Anyway," She continued, shaking her head free of stray musings, "It's the second best guest room now and I think you'll like having a sitting room to yourself if you want some privacy; especially with Kelly Ann sharing it. You can put her to bed, then come in here and read or get your sewing done."

"It's more than I could have hoped for." Caroline replied, eyes scanning the little sitting room again. She didn't like the idea of living in a room previously occupied by Calamity Kim. It was plain, the way most western rooms tended to be, but the furniture was solid and of a good quality and the little lace curtains that framed the window were pretty and very feminine.

It was a maid or housekeeper's room, located at the back of the house and a floor above the family bedrooms below. A small remnant of pride, left over from much earlier years, stung in her chest, but beggars couldn't be choosers and she and her daughter were definitely beggars. "Mr. Hart is very charitable and kind."

Alicia made a grunting noise in confirmation and nodded her head curtly up and down. She doubted charity had anything to do with it. Curtis had been smitten over the other woman for years and now that she was unencumbered by a husband, she doubted the Ranger's fearless leader would waste much time ensuring he was number one on the widow's list of eager suitors…and Caroline was far too young and pretty not to attract interest; which was not going to be easy for Curtis to deal with.

No matter how much she liked the other woman and thought of her as a good match for the Red Ranger, Alicia still didn't hold with moving her into the house proper. There were too many secrets, too many comings and goings that would have to be hidden or explained away. They were only just starting a new mission and the timing couldn't possibly have been worse.

Curtis had ordered her put up in the fancy guest room that was generally reserved for the rare overnight visitor, but she had gone against his wishes and would probably catch an earful from him later that night. But there were far too many reasons not to put her and the little girl in that room. First and foremost, it was too fancy for a young child; the mother would be in constant fear that the girl would unintentionally break something valuable. Second, it was right next to Curtis' bedroom, which was just plain inappropriate. Third, it was in the front of the house with a good view of anything coming or leaving the ranch; which would definitely tweak the young widow's curiosity. Caroline was no fool and it wouldn't be long before she started asking questions about the unusual things that tended to happen during a campaign.

"You go and unpack your things." She said, switching her mind away from anything other than the morning's chores that had yet to be finished. "I'll take Kelly Ann with me to gather the eggs and clean the hen house. Lunch will be in a couple of hours. We eat a big meal here at lunchtime; then supper'll be small. It's one big table and I'll warn you now there might be more than one manager to join us. They'll mind their language and manners around you and your baby girl though or I'll have their heads."

"Just let me change my skirt and find my apron." Caroline protested. "I can help with the chickens and the meal."

"You'll do no such thing." Alicia responded firmly, turning to face her. "Doc says you're to rest and Mr. Curtis says you're to rest; so you'll do just that. I've got enough on my plate without fuss'n and gett'n after you too."

"Alicia, I couldn't possibly…." Caroline countered, "I'm a ward, a boarder not even paying for my keep; not a guest." She objected.

"You're to rest." The older black woman repeated firmly. "As soon as your things are in the wardrobe I'll have one of the boys take your trunks out to the barn." She added firmly, and with a swish of her yellow calico skirt, she marched out the door.

* * *

William paced in agitation on the side porch outside Curtis' kitchen. He hadn't anticipated Miss Kimmee wouldn't be home when he dropped Mrs. Carson and her daughter off. Technically, he had no real reason to hang around, but his plan depended on speaking with her and getting either her or Curtis or both to go into town to talk with his father before too much of the morning wore off.

He didn't dare take his father's buggy across the desert and, with two people on one horse, the Stone Canyon fort was almost a five hour ride from town. Even if they left just after lunch, they'd be hard pressed to get there by sunset; that didn't leave much time to find the preacher and convince him to marry them. He needed Miss Kimmee to keep his father occupied so that he didn't notice their absence until it was too late to go after them. The whole thing was very frustrating. If too much time passed, they'd have to wait until the next morning.

Curtis had ridden out early to investigate a report that his back fences had been knocked down again, so he couldn't speak with him either. He was fairly certain he would be given a job on the ranch, but he still wasn't sure exactly where they'd live. He knew Curtis had a few bunkhouses for the single men, but it was out of the question to bring Alison into one of those. Rocco had a small house within a short walk from the main house and Hans and his wife had-had a house somewhere, but those were reserved for the managers.

He sighed heavily in frustration, stopping his pacing to stare at the empty road and then continuing on again. He was ready to put his plan into action but there were still way too many uncertainties for his peace of mind. There was no question he had to marry Allison either that evening or the next afternoon at the latest. He supposed they could, possibly, delay for a day or two, but he really wasn't of a mind to do so.

Wiping his hands nervously on his trousers, he silently wished with all his might that Miss Kimmee would hurry home. Almost simultaneously, he saw two figures pop up over the horizon and move towards him. Giving a little whoop of excitement, he jumped off the porch and headed in their direction.

* * *

Tommy stopped as they crested the hill that led to the main house, then set down the heavy baskets of fish he was carrying, and simply stared. Seen from their angle, at the top of the largest hill, the ranch before him was nothing like the house he and Kim had begun renovating in their time. It wasn't like him not to notice something as glaringly obvious as that and he was just as confused by his failure to see what was in plain sight as he was by the strange home in front of him.

He supposed it was because Curtis had rushed them out the door and into town, or perhaps he had still been too disoriented that day for him to be aware of it, or maybe he'd even just taken it for granted, but none of those were really good excuses. Silently, he chastised himself for not taking the time to notice it before. This was the start of a new mission; he needed to be aware of everything.

Looking at it now, he realized it was still a fairly large two and a half story building with a large wraparound porch, but it was nothing like the Georgian mansion his wife had fought so hard to reclaim in their time. The house in front of him was very much an old farm house which had been added on to several different times and in several different eclectic styles. It was made of whitewashed wooden boards and, although well maintained, the front was obviously smaller than the addition onto the back; making it appear a little lopsided.

"The house was damaged by an earthquake." Kim said, answering the unspoken question on her husband's face. "Curtis built the one we know specifically for Caroline. He wanted it to be more grand than anything waiting for her back in Chicago so she'd never regret staying in Angel Grove; not that I think she ever did."

He turned and regarded her, then turned back to view the house and its surroundings again; forehead creased in a tiny scowl. In his time, there was only the one old, dilapidated house surrounded by rolling hills of grass and a few scraggly trees and bushes. A developer had cleared and smoothed out the landscape in preparation for a subdivision that had never been built, but you could still see where they had intended the road to go and where they had prepped the land and poured foundations for a row of model homes. The scene before him now was like a movie set, something right out of an old Italian Western, yet it was very much a real, thriving, nineteenth century, working ranch.

The house itself was surrounded by a small open yard, but almost everything else was fenced off. There was a large barn off to one side and a smaller one to the other as well as several buildings just barely on their side of the horizon.

Alicia's "garden" next to where he assumed the house's bathroom was located, was massive. Although it had already been harvested, he could still see where the earth had been tilled and prepped for winter and where a new winter crop was in the process of being plowed and seeded. Across from the garden, several horses were pastured and beyond the pasture he could see a well developed orchard.

Dozens of people, including children, moved to and from in every direction and, for the first time, he began to realize what a huge operation the ranch was. The site warmed his heart and made him look at the land in a way he hadn't thought of before. It wasn't just a place, it was a working community with an energy all its own. By comparison, the house in their time seemed a very lonely and forgotten place; nothing more than a sad, dilapidated reflection of what it had been built to be… left alone, forlorn and lost.

He thought of how hard Kim fought to reclaim the tumbledown property, how she'd risked being late for a battle, put the team's lives in danger, just to ensure the property's auction ended in her favor. He thought about her detailed drawings and passion for the refurbishment and suddenly realized why its restoration had been so important that she'd put it to the forefront of her efforts; even while they were in the middle of a brand new campaign. He hadn't understood then, but he did now.

She was connected to the ranch; she knew what it had been in it's heyday. She had been a part of the little community milling around below them. She had lived it, was as much at home in Curtis's time as her own. She hadn't wanted it forgotten. It was almost as if she'd wanted to reclaim it, not only in memory of her family, but for the people who had lived and operated here as well.

"I think I understand your vision for the house now." He said simply, picking up the heavy baskets of fish again. When she turned to him, one eyebrow raised, he added, "You like it here. I think you feel as much a part of this time as ours."

She smiled tenderly at him, eyes softening, "Time is relative sweetie… but yes, you're right, this land will always be my home."

* * *

Netau fumed in silent fury as the portal opened up in front of him and two divestors, including the demon spawn's fraternal twin, pushed him toward it. Divestors were truly the scum of the universe. They were nothing more than muscled henchman; filthy assassins.

He had been so close to annihilating her. He had only needed a few seconds more to call upon enough energy from the storm and she would have been sealed forever inside a containment orb, but the divestors had chosen that moment to snatch him away and place him under arrest. The moment had been too precise to have been by chance; it had been planned.

Ulysses had apparently complained about his interference in the nineteenth century and he had been apprehended in the act of "maliciously altering a timeline for his own profit". If that were not humiliating enough, the old moderator had also exposed a few of his more shady involvements with Nester's son, which seriously called into question his allegiances in his home timeline. In response, he'd been prematurely recalled from his mission by the adjudicators.

There were several problems with this knowledge. For one, the old moderator had been transferred forward in time, to what was Netau's present, to testify against him. That almost never happened and indicated that very powerful forces were at work. It also meant the timeline had been fixed, but not by him. As his equipment indicated this hadn't happened yet, he assumed he was now a target of a future complaint and the Guardians had reached back in time to remove him from the situation before his plans could come to fruition; which meant there was still time to return and change it back to suit his own needs.

He worked his jaw back and forth as he contemplated his options and what counter tactics he could employ. He wasn't nearly done. He would remedy the situation and control the damage as much as possible. He was far more powerful than any of the moderators suspected, far more powerful than even the adjudicators themselves. He was indispensable to the continuum; nearly a god.

Inwardly he cringed at that last thought. He was so close… so very, very close…only a few seconds more and the demon spawn would have been eliminated. With her out of the way, the immortality Ivan's egg offered would have been his…

No, he assured himself bitterly, this was not the end. He would eventually be able to manipulate the current unpalatable situation to his own advantage, and, when he did, he'd return to the nineteenth century moments after his exodus. Until then, he'd bide his time. He'd call in favors owed him, he'd blackmail those who didn't cooperate. He'd taint the evidence, cast doubt on the proof, and spin the tale so unfavorably against the demon spawn that she'd never survive it.

A slow, malicious gleam shot through his eyes at the thought, but that was quickly replaced by outrage and annoyance as Kimberly's Muirantian twin shoved him roughly forward. He turned and glared at the boy, but was met only with ice cold hatred and twitching jaw muscles that practically begged Netau to resist.

He refused to give the young demon spawn the satisfaction of killing him outright before trial. Soon enough they would all realize that he was too powerful to simply be expunged. He knew too much, his fall would take too many with him. It wasn't over yet…


	15. Chapter 15: Measured Moments

Hartland

By: KSuzie

Chapter 15: Measured Moments

* * *

All things Power Rangers belong to Saban and everything else belongs to me.

* * *

**Author's note: If you like my stories on Fanfiction, then check out my book, Sentinel Dawn: Journey Into Midnight **

**Available now for download on Kindle and available May 9, 2011 in print form at Amazon com or your local bookstore! ISBN-13: 978-1461028109**

* * *

Kim smiled and waved as William trotted up to them, calling out a friendly greeting. "Are you here to drop Caroline off?" She asked cheerfully, still feeling smugly content from the morning's excursion with her husband.

"Yes mam." He replied easily enough, taking in their wet hair and clothes and wondering about them, but not daring to ask as he simply fidgeted with his hat in his hands; revealing how anxious he was.

"What is it?" She asked, eyes measuring the stress in his shoulders and the hesitation in his eyes. Something was definitely wrong, but she honestly wasn't sure if it was the new campaign or something else.

"May I speak with you a moment?" He asked apprehensively, eyes shifting to Tommy briefly to see if the other man might object. "Privately I mean."

"Of course." She responded, one hand automatically reaching out to his elbow in a reassuring gesture. Turning to her husband she added, "Tommy, would you mind taking the fish on in to Alicia? Tell her I promise I'll help clean them, I just need a moment."

Tommy regarded the youth with an unreadable look, but nodded his acquiescence. He'd honestly forgotten all about their conversation in the saloon where he'd promised to ask his wife to talk to the boy. Teenage tragedy was the bane of every generation, but when that teen was Ranger, the results could be catastrophic.

"No problem." He mumbled, glad the youth had followed up on his own and not really envying her the chore of helping the boy wrestle with his emotions. Personally, he was more than happy to retreat inside for a change of warm, dry clothes and cup of hot coffee.

"Come on." Kim coaxed in a soothing tone, slipping her hand through the crook of the boy's elbow and leading him in the direction of a large tree shading one side of the closest barn. "Tell me what's on your mind."

Abraham yanked on the horse's harness roughly for the third time, unnecessarily checking to make sure the animal was securely strapped to the small wagon, then nodded his head gruffly in satisfaction. The much anticipated telegram had come. The small convoy carrying his new wife would arrive at the Stone Canyon fort in two to three days.

It was a little early for their arrival, at least based on his initial telegram, which made him wonder if the original news of her arrival at Angel Island near San Francisco had been delayed in some way. It didn't matter. What troubled him more was her arrival just as things were starting up again.

This was his third tour as one of Zordon's Rangers. He'd served first as a young lad, barely grown and hardly anything his older self would have recommended for the job. His second tour had been under Ms. Kim and that, more than anything else had defined his tenure. He wasn't sure what this new campaign would bring. This time around he was, he admitted begrudgingly to himself, too old to be Rangering again. He was tired and a little slower than he should be, his joints protesting his exertions just a little too much, but like any Ranger, the simple thought of a new call to action stirred his blood and spurred him to action as enthusiastically as any youth.

This wasn't, he mused, the best time for a new wife to arrive, but was there ever a good time in a Ranger's life for personal matters? Zordon always seemed to have them busy with something; even when they technically weren't on duty. No, there was never a good time, he mused to himself as he pulled himself onto the board and clicked the reins. By leaving a day earlier than he needed to, he'd be able to drive his small cart to the Command Center and leave word where he was going. If he was needed, Alpha could simply latch on to his morpher's signal and transport him back.

His new wife, if she was the good Japanese wife his family assured him she was, would have to simply deal with a crash course in what being a Ranger's wife meant. After all, even when he wasn't technically on active duty, he was still working on assignments and projects. She would have to adapt and that was the end of it.

"It just happened, I swear." William wailed in a repentant and anxiety filled tone. "I promise you I didn't mean for it to happen Ms. Kimmee, you gotten believe that."

Kim closed her eyes slowly and breathed through a simultaneous urge to laugh and groan at the same time. She wasn't a bit surprised that teenage hormone driven lust had gotten the better of the two. William wasn't just a young man in his prime, he was a young Ranger in his prime; which compounded things exponentially. The two were already emotionally attached and lived in the same household with an oblivious chaperone; it was bound to happen sooner or later.

She wasn't sure what it was about Rangers, if it was the battle experience, which definitely matured them beyond their years, the adrenaline rush they all felt at the slightest hint of a potential battle, the knowledge that they could, at any time, die and never see tomorrow, or something in the morphological energy itself, but every single Ranger she'd ever known usually ended up a lust driven basket case by the end of a campaign. Even Katherine Hillard, who was, even by Kim's admittedly biased and prejudiced views, the most ethical and moral, at least in regard to male/female interactions, of all the Earth Rangers, had given in to a little horse play by the end of her term.

The boys were the hardest hit. The ones like Tommy and Jason, who had become interested in the opposite sex at far too young an age anyway, were usually worst offenders. They became incredibly demanding in their pursuit of physical pastimes, often becoming the butt of lewd jokes and a good amount of eye rolling, but they weren't, by any means, the only ones. She'd seen it too many times to discount. If a male Ranger wasn't what society might call strapping or well-built before his tenure began, by the end of the campaign they were usually the polar opposite. Even Billy, who had been outright scrawny and timid, had matured and developed by the end of his term with the Mighty Morphin's into a physically broad shouldered and handsome young man who turned more than one female wasn't to say that the girl's behavior could be held faultless either. Whether it was the testosterone driven posturing constantly going on around them or simply their own reaction to Rangering, they indulged their carnal side just as much, if not as openly, as their counterparts.

No, she wasn't a bit surprised by the events between William and Allison the previous evening. The question was though, how to deal with it. In her own time, it wasn't as big a deal. She'd give a good amount of lecturing on birth control and protecting themselves against communicable diseases, as well as a good stern warning not to let it interfere with the boy's duty, but in the Victorian west, things were a little different. She already knew that William had grown up to marry Allison, knew that Allison was probably responsible for the infusion of high intelligence that had eventually spawned her teammate Billy, but she honestly wasn't sure how old the two had been. There was something about William's father being against it, unable to overcome the prejudice of Allison's poor Irish ancestry or her disability, but she was incredibly tired from her cross-dimensional trip and still half in the contented stupor of her own escapades the previous evening. She honestly couldn't remember exactly how the situation had resolved itself.

"I've got to marry her." William supplied anxiously. "There's nothing else except that. Allison's a good girl Ms. Kim, I swear it was all my fault, I just couldn't control myself, it was all on me, I made her do it."

"Are you telling me that you raped her against her will?" Kim asked skeptically, not believing it for a second. She'd seen the way the young deaf girl had looked at him; there was no way the matter was all one sided.

William paused and gave her a horrified look, unsure how to respond. Of course he'd never have done anything like that, he loved her, adored her, but there wasn't any way he'd ever disparage her by admitting she'd practically demanded it of him. Just the echo of the memory of the way she'd clung to him, the unexpected explosion of passion, crawled through his mind like sweet poison, causing his breathing to increase and his face to flush deeply all the way through his ears and then straight down his neck.

"Didn't think so." She drolled, giving him an amused, yet reprimanding look when his astonished eyes met her's.

"I love her Ms. Kimmee." He professed with all the earnest exuberance of a youth in love for the very first time. "I've got to do the right thing by this. I want to do the right thing by this."

"And what does she have to say on the matter?" Kim returned, wondering just what the problem might be. The nineteenth century wasn't the twenty-first. Teenage marriages were far more the norm. Waiting until you were in your late twenties or older was practically unheard of; unless you didn't have a choice.

"Oh she's willing." The boy assured with a lopsided grin and a pleased twinkle in his eyes.

"Then what do you need from me?" She asked patiently.

"It's my father." He revealed, the twinkle gone and the worried expression clouding his face again. "He's forbidden me to ever think of Allison that way. He wants me to think of her like a sister, but Ms. Kim I can't, I've never been able to. We've always been best friends. Always …well, you know."

"If it's always been like that, then why the rush now?" She returned, trying to get him to be practical or at least consider the idea. "Will, your father's ill, I know you know that. My best advice is to wait just a little longer. In a few years…"

"But what if I've gotten her pregnant?" The boy blurted out, the crux of his anxiety finally finding a voice.

Kim couldn't help it, she reeled backward, closing her eyes and sucking in her breath, not so much by his words, but from the realization that she wasn't thinking in terms of her present time zone. There was no birth control in this era, well there was, but it was hard to come by and certainly not something a young man like William would have easy access to. The US had passed the Comstock Law in 1873, the fruition of the Victorian anti-obscenity movement in the United States, which had made all contraceptives illegal. There were a few things available that he might know of, like sausage casings made into skin condoms, but she doubted it. Doc would never have imparted that illegal wisdom and she doubted Curtis or Abraham would have thought to either; although she wouldn't put anything past Rocco.

No, the boy was right, but without her equipment, there was no way to look up the recorded facts and see for sure. Frantically, she tried to force her memory into remembering William's exact history, but all she could think of were basic happenings and not specific dates. It was extremely frustrating.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Kimmee, I don't ever want to offend you with such language, and spoken so blunt and all, but you gotta know what I'm facing. Allison's a good girl, I promise you she is, and she'll be a good wife, I know it, but I can't wait. People are gonna talk as it is, if she's in any kind of family way, there's more than one person gonna start counting backwards and trying to figure if we've done anything improper. You know who her parents were, how people gossiped and snickered behind their backs. No one has any proof that they were even man and wife, although Rocco swears they were as Catholic as he and Maria are so they had to be. You know they talk about Allison and wonder if she's going to grow up any different."

"I'm not offended William." She replied softly. "I'm just tired and not thinking straight. In my time…well, let's just say that extra marital relations between young people aren't really looked upon with any more acceptance, but we're better at knowing how to prevent certain outcomes. Although," She admitted with a sly and slightly conspiratorial look, "I'm the byproduct of a premarital, uhm….experiment." She added with a wicked grin. "So maybe we're not as good at it as we seem to think we are."

William blushed deeply in return and averted his eyes, chuckling a little as her meaning registered, but not really comfortable with the knowledge. Miss Kimmee was part mother figure, part teacher, and part hero to him; anything even remotely suggesting she was a real human being with real flaws made him feel a little odd and uncomfortable. "Did your parents get married?" He asked softly, still not looking at her. "Not that I have any right to ask or anything."

"Yes." She answered plainly, unphased by the topic. "They stayed married long enough to produce my brother, but my father wasn't exactly…" She paused, not really sure what to say. "Well, he was kind of like Caroline's husband." She admitted carefully, "He just wasn't ever able to handle being responsible."

"I'm responsible." He returned earnestly, turning his eyes to face her. "I'm ready for this Ms. Kim. I love Allison with all my heart. I don't care how hard I have to work, I'll provide a good home for her I swear."

"I know you will." Kim replied, patting his arm gently. She wasn't sure he had any concept of what he was getting into, but fortunately she had the foreknowledge to know that the two had stayed happily married for many decades.

"I need you to talk to my father." He said in a serious tone, eyes holding on to hers in an effort to convey the dire importance he placed on the matter. "He'll listen to you Ms. Kim. He respects you."

"William, I don't think…"

"Ms. Kim I'm desperate." He revealed, unwilling to listen to any advice except what he'd already decided upon. "I need your help. If my father finds out he'll pack her up and send her back east somewhere. You know he will. If could be months or years before I find her and then what? What if she has a baby and I'm not there? Who's gonna take care of them while I'm looking for them? What if he sends her someplace that shelters her and then takes the baby away? That's what happened to Melind…well, that's what I know he's helped parents do in the past." He amended uneasily, then paused and closed his eyes, exhaling his frustration, adding, "You and Curtis are the only ones I can think of that'll get him to even consider the idea of letting me marry her."

"Don't you think you need to be the one to…"

"I tried that." The boy spat back with unexpected venom, startling her. He jumped to his feet and paced back and forth, all the anxiety and worry in his chest making each booted step pound against the still muddy ground. "I've tried over and over. We yelled at each other until he told me he'd disown me. He won't hear of it. He sent me back east to my brother. Told me to find a girl from good society. I tried Ms. Kim, I honestly tried. I love my father, I understand what he expects from me, but I never found anyone I wanted except her. Then I came home and saw her again…I know this is right, I know she's the one I'm meant to spend my life with. She's not from a good family, I know she'll never be able to talk out loud, but she's not dumb. She's so much smarter than me, sometimes I think she's smarter than my father is."

"I don't doubt that for a second." Kim answered softly, causing him to spin around and face her to see if she was mocking him.

"You gotta make him see the sense of it." William implored. "You gotta help me Ms. Kim, you're the only one who can. Please come back with me, talk to him."

Kim regarded the boy carefully, something in his tone or stance niggling at the back of her mind. There was something more in play here, but she wasn't sure what. He seemed honest enough in his petition, but there was more to his request than simply trying to convince Doc Cranston to consider Allison as a match for his youngest son.

"Alright." She answered, watching curiously as his shoulders dropped in relief. "Curtis and I can ride into town after breakfast."

* * *

Tommy stopped short as he entered the large kitchen area with the fish baskets still in hand, surprised to see Caroline tying the strings to her apron. He had assumed Kim's ancestor would still be in town recovering, although he wasn't sure why. She seemed just as surprised to see him and the two stared at each other for several seconds before she offered him a flustered greeting and he mumbled and equally uncomfortable reply.

"Alicia took Kelly Ann to the hen house." Caroline offered lamely and Tommy nodded quietly that he understood. "Can I get you some coffee?" She offered, the nervousness in her voice very apparent, and again he nodded, but this time he also continued his progress into the room and hoisted the two heavy fish baskets up on to a side work table.

"I want to thank you for your generosity." She continued, and Tommy whirled around in surprise, his eyebrows raised far above the rim of his western style hat. "Formally, I mean." She continued, her back to him as she carefully took down a mug from the cupboard and moved to the stove."

"I…uhm…" He began, but she cut him off.

"Traveling such a long way back to Chicago at this time of year would be difficult on a young child. She's all I have now and I just wanted you to know that I appreciate your kindness in sheltering us until the spring."

"I think…" He stammered, but again she cut him off.

"I want to assure you that neither of us will be burdens. I intend to work for our keep and I promise you I'll keep Kelly Ann out of the way." She continued.

Tommy wasn't entirely sure what to do and the feeling made him extremely uncomfortable. He'd only seen Kim's ancestor from a distance at the funeral of her little son and felt incredibly nervous about being alone with her now. This wasn't a fellow Ranger, someone who could forgive him a slip in period etiquette, but someone who knew nothing about who he was and expected him to speak and behave like a man of this time zone. He had no other Rangers near him to gloss over any mistakes or Kim to warn him about accidentally changing the timelines. The woman before him was a local civilian from a time outside his own and the pressure to behave and act correctly pressed against his chest like a led weight.

"I'm not Curtis." He said in a tumble, adding an almost forgotten and awkward, "Mam." A few seconds later than he really should have.

As she whirled to face him in shocked surprise, he belatedly remembered to remove his hat and hold it politely against his chest as he'd seen the other men do. "I'm Tommy." He corrected, smiling nervously at her as she simply stared at him. "I'm…uhm… I'm Kim's husband." He clarified gawkily, swallowing hard and mentally chastising himself over the clumsiness of his words and ordering himself back under control.

Caroline blanched visibly and teetered a little, her hands letting go of the mug with an audible thud and stabilizing herself on the long table even as Tommy moved forward to catch her in case she feinted. She stared wide eyed at the wet, short cropped hair that curled in an unruly manner around his head and the eyes which were just barely a shade off from the man she'd thought he was. She was, perhaps, the only person in the county that hadn't heard Curtis had a brother or that Calamity Kim had a husband. She'd been grieving her son and respectfully left alone as the news buzzed around her faster than any internet service a century later and neither Curtis nor Alicia had thought to fill her in.

"I beg your pardon." She managed breathlessly, her discomfort as obvious as the attempt she was making to hide it. "Why you're the very image. I was aware Mr. Hart had family, but I fear they're too seldom mentioned in my presence for me to have made the connection immediately."

Tommy grinned a little at the tiny woman in front of him, then squashed the reaction and tried to make his face neutral in case he offended her. She couldn't have been more than four and a half feet high and didn't look the least bit like his wife, but the set of her chin and the way her body forcefully moved itself back under control was too exactly like her descendant to miss.

"I'm told I look a great deal like my brother." He offered a bit more easily, although his hands still clenched his hat uncomfortably. Kim had said to keep to as much of the truth as possible and let people draw their own conclusions. It was a true statement, people were always telling him he looked like his brother David, although he couldn't really see how they thought so.

"My apologies Mr. Hart." She replied more formally than she needed to. "You must think me terribly rude and forward."

"No, not at all." He returned, adding in the once again forgotten "Mam." A few seconds later than he really should have.

Fortunately, he was saved from further awkwardness by Alicia's timely arrival back into her domain. She took three purposeful strides into the room before stopping to regard the two people staring at her uncomfortable. "I see you've met Miss Kimmee's husband." She announced in her matter of fact way to Caroline, then turned in a flash of yellow toward Tommy, "But would you please explain to me why you've got two filthy fish baskets on my baking table?"

"Kim went fishing." He replied awkwardly, pointing lamely to the baskets; although he supposed it was fairly obvious. "She told me to bring them in while she talked to William and she'd be back in a few minutes to help you clean them."

"Up." She ordered plainly, calloused palms lifting upward in a gesture reminiscent of lifting something.

"Up?" He asked blankly, still slightly disconcerted by his encounter with Kimberly's ancestor. When she simply glared at him expectantly, his brow creased, mouth pouting slightly in confusion, but he didn't move.

"Lift the baskets up off my baking table." She clarified as if he were no bigger than Caroline's daughter. "Unless you want your biscuits tasting like pond mud and smelling like dead fish."

"Oh…" He replied gawkily, quickly lifting the heavy wet baskets from her countertop. "I…uhm…sorry."

"Now take them outside and ask someone to point you over to Maria's cabin." Alicia elaborated, shooing him out of her kitchen like a wayward chicken. "I don't have any time to be gutting and scaling fish this morning. You tell Maria to have the girls set to work on prepping them for the lunchtime meal and she can take whatever she needs for their efforts. Fishing." She snorted as if that was the silliest thing she'd ever heard of. "Next time you tell that wife of yours to ask me before she gets an idea into her head to change my menu for the day."

Caroline watched without a word as Alicia shooed the tall man out the door, grateful for his departure in light of the embarrassing way they'd been introduced. She was mortified to have made such a clumsy mistake and positive the man would think her terribly forward, if not completely brazen in the way she'd informally spoken to him. She didn't know how she'd be able to face him again, let alone his brother.

"Fishing indeed." Alicia sniffed as she returned back from the door, grabbing a wet rag and a bottle of ammonia from the shelf. You see that wet head and drenched clothes of his? I guarantee you she's as soaked to the skin as he is. Skinny dipping is what those two have been up to, mark my word on that one, if not other things." She added with a knowing look. Her tone, although blustery, seemed more amused than angry though, causing Caroline to pause and her eyes to lift cautiously to the now empty doorway as the other woman scrubbed her wooden pastry counter free of dirt and mud.

"Has Calamity Kim been married long?" She asked guardedly in a soft voice, lifting the spilt mug delicately and righting it back on the countertop.

Alicia paused slightly, not sure how to answer and silently berating herself for digging herself a hole. She'd meant to distract the other woman, get her mind off of why there was a man in her kitchen who looked more like Curtis than any being had a right to. Turning, she added as honestly as she could, "I'm told they've been together since they were kids, but that's Ms. Kim's story to tell and not mine."

"I'm sure she tells it well." Caroline responded, just a hint of bitter resentment tingeing her words.

She didn't like Kimberly and the other woman knew it, but if she was honest with herself, it was more because of her close relationship to Curtis and the quietly whispered rumors that they were not brother and sister at all, but lovers. More than one person had sworn that they'd seen Curtis kiss her, and not in a very sisterly way, but if Curtis had a brother in town who looked just like him, perhaps it was the brother that had been seen kissing her and not him. Curtis was, admittedly, a very mysterious man. If any other resident of Angel Grove suddenly produced a twin out of nowhere, no one would believe it, but with Curtis Hart, it was entirely plausible.

"She loves him." Alicia responded simply, turning and replacing the bottle of ammonia on the shelf with the other cleansers. "And he her. Never seen two people as old as they are behave like that around each other." Turning, she met the other woman's eyes evenly, wondering what she would make of the pair. "You'll see, one minute they're barking at each other like any old married couple and the next they're giggling like idiots all in love for the very first time."

Caroline didn't answer, simply lowered her eyes, then picked up the mug and replaced it in the cupboard where she'd found it. Her own marriage hadn't been a happy one, but she knew of many cases where couples stayed happy with one another their whole lives. She was envious.

* * *

"Where's William?" Doc asked as Allison served him his breakfast at the long table.

She responded silently that he'd taken Caroline and her daughter out to Curtis earlier that morning, but when he simply frowned and seemed to not understand the signs she was using, she slowed down and carefully spelled out Caroline's name with her fingers, then pointed out the window.

"He took Mrs. Carson to Curtis?" Doc asked, making an educated guess. She nodded that he was correct and he nodded back, then turned without another word to his breakfast.

Relieved he didn't want to try and speak further, she quickly turned and headed back into the kitchen in case he asked her to sit with him until he was finished. She was incredibly nervous. Part of her was terrified that Doc, a medical doctor, would be able to discern simply by looking at her what had happened between her and his son the previous evening. William had confessed his fears that Doc might send her away if he knew and that if he somehow found out and tried to pack her up before he returned, she should run to Earnest's and wait for him there. Under no circumstances was she to board the stage or let anyone take her out of town.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she returned to the kitchen, nervously cleaning up the last of the dishes and making sure she was leaving everything in order. She doubted she'd ever be allowed to return to the only home she'd ever known, and that saddened her. She truly loved Doc Cranston and she was incredibly sorry for the angst, anxiety, and disappointment she knew she was about to cause him, but she loved William, always had and always would, and William loved her. The previous night had proved to her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they had been born to love each other. She understood Doc was fond of her, maybe, in his own way, he might even love her a little, but she knew he didn't want her as a daughter in law.

Allison understood her place in society. She knew, even if William didn't, that by getting married to each other, she wasn't elevating her status, she was bringing his down. There was a place for people like her, born dirt poor and unable to hear or speak, and it wasn't married to the town doctor's son. Doc had been incredibly generous to her by sheltering her, educating her, giving her a decent place in his home as a housekeeper; she was making an incredibly ungrateful and vile gesture by sleeping with and then marrying his son.

Part of her felt incredibly guilty and, for a moment, she considered simply walking out the door and sparing the family all of the slander and gossip and humiliation that was to come, but she couldn't do it. William knew his father would cut him off, knew his sisters and half the townsfolk would never speak to him again, he knew his brothers would also turn their backs on him, he knew…and yet he still wanted her. No one had ever loved her the way he had, was willing to give up everything just to be with her, and she would never betray that love. She had idolized him since the day she'd been dropped on Doc's doorstep and would worship him her entire life.

Taking a deep breath to calm her shaking hands, she carefully checked the set of saddle bags William had told her to have ready. She didn't have many possessions, so she focused instead on the practical things they would need. She supposed it might be considered stealing, but she doubted Doc would miss two sets of knives, forks, and mugs or the two small plates she'd carefully wrapped in a small cotton table cloth. She'd packed several needles and some thread, as well as her knitting and crochet needles, but decided there was no room for the two small towels or her extra kitchen apron. She packed a small picture frame of Doc and his family because she knew William would miss them, but of most importance was the small sack of money she'd saved. Combined with William's stash, it would see them through the next few weeks until he could find work, but it wasn't nearly enough and they'd have to be very careful with it.

Deciding she had everything she could think of for now, she set to work making sandwiches, carefully wrapping and tucking away a few extra pieces of bread, fruit, and cheese for a small dinner later on. Once everything was packed and the buckles on the saddle bags tightly secured, she made Doc a lunch plate, then covered it with a small towel and wiped the kitchen down for the last time.

* * *

The stranger caused more than one eye to turn cautiously towards him as he walked casually up the wooden sidewalk through the heart of town. It wasn't the way he was dressed that made people catch their breath and move out of his way until he'd passed, there was really nothing out of place on him, it was simply the way he moved. It was slow and deliberate, as if he knew exactly where he was going and who he was going to find. There was an aura of power that surrounded him, so strong that people could feel it from several feet away. This was not someone you challenged, this was someone you left alone. No one could see a gun belt on him, but no one doubted for a second that he was armed and mostly likely deadly.

He paused briefly at the swinging doors to Earnest's Saloon, regarding the sign with serious, calculating blue eyes, then grinned as if finding something sardonically amusing. Slowly removing his hat, revealing short cropped, dark brown hair, he turned and entered the saloon.


End file.

Power Rangers, Romance