Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life as a Power Ranger was a funny thing. So much time was spent fending off the forces of evil and balancing heroics with their civilian lives, but the reality of it never quite sunk in. Lives might be placed in danger and property destruction was rampant, but at the end of the day the Rangers would prevail. There was no consequence that couldn’t be fixed.

Then one day, a monster comes down from the moon and attacks a schoolmate. And no one could be properly traumatized about it because the idiot didn’t have the decency to act like he’d only narrowly avoided death.

“So yeah, the Power Rangers thought my. My uh. Sacrifice. Really cool! They said it was the coolest thing they ever saw, cool enough that they wanted to, uh. Date me? Yeah, that’s...that was it.”

“I really don’t think that’s what they said,” Zack said, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“The Rangers want to date me,” Skull repeated as firmly as he could, his voice hoarse and slurred. “And you can’t prove me wrong, so. Whatever. Bulkie’s gonna be happy ‘bout that, I can. Can totally figure out who they are now. We’re gonna be famous and. Uh. Dating the Rangers.”

There were many things wrong with that statement. But Skull laid there, eyes bright and glassy from the pain medication, too pale for someone with little skin tone left to lose in the first place, and a tube steadily circulating fresh blood into his system, so Zack forced a smile and patted Skull’s wrist. “All right then, buddy. Live the dream.”

Skull gave Zack a dazed grin. One hand absently went up to his neck, tugging at the badges until another hand impatiently smacked him away.

“Stop that,” Kimberly said sternly from the chair on the other side of Skull’s bed, Tommy standing behind her and squeezing her shoulder when her voice trembled. She blinked furiously, eyes red with the threat of tears. “I swear, if you end up tearing your stitches out again, I’m just going to let you bleed out.”

Whining as though that slap had been the worst injury he had suffered that day, Skull attempted again to scratch at his neck and squirmed around in the bed. “Itches,” he mumbled, petulant.

“Well, too bad. Honestly, if we have to tie your hands down...”

From the corner of the hospital room, Trini watched as Kim and Skull fell into a one-sided argument (Kimberly smacking his hand and lecturing him again, Skull alternating between sulking and half-remembered interpretations of the attack). As wrecked as Skull looked right now, he was still moving and talking. He was supposed to be okay.

But she had overheard the nurses fretting over how slow his pulse still was. She’d seen the wounds in his neck. And she knew what kind of monster Rita had sent down.

“We have to figure out what we’re going to do,” Jason said, his murmur covered by Zack cracking a joke that sent Skull into a delirious peal of laughter and even brought smiles to Kim and Tommy’s faces. “In the worst case scenario.”

Trini glanced at Jason’s face. There were shadows under his eyes, and his jaw was stiff, and he was watching the bed like at any moment Skull would keel over - or worse. He looked older than he should.

“We should find out if it is a worst case scenario first,” she said. Her own voice sounded distant to her. “If we have a better idea of what we’re working with, we’ll have a better idea of what to do.”

Hesitating for a moment, Jason nodded jerkily. “All right. Billy, do you have any ideas?”

No answer. Trini turned to her other side, to Billy huddled against the wall and staring blankly down at his clenched fists. When she gently touched his shoulder, he jumped, eyes wide behind smudged glasses.

“Wha…?”

“What do you think is going to happen to Skull?”

Billy shuddered, but he squared his shoulders. “I...I cannot be absolutely certain at this point,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “There’s no real scientific basis - typically, the aftereffects of Rita’s monsters demonstrate no ontological inertia, but we don’t know to what extent Rita was inspired by mythology. Alpha and I might be able to rig up some sort of test, but—”

“What are you dweebs doing here?”

Every head snapped towards the doorway. Skull was a bit slower than the rest, having trouble focusing on the source of the voice, but when he finally found it his entire face lit up and he jerked up into a sitting position. “Bulkie, you made it - owww…”

“Lay down, you idiot,” Bulk snapped, glaring at all the other occupants in the room and gripping a tinfoil-covered plate tightly. He lingered on Billy, expression contemplative rather than sneering, before trudging over to the bed. Zack hastily got up and moved aside, allowing Bulk to drop into the chair with a scowl. “I don’t want a geyser of blood to the face just because you can’t stay still.”

Skull cackled as he settled back down. The sound was weaker than it should have been. “Aw, Bulkie, I was just - just telling all them...the Rangers want to date me, y’know? ‘Cuz I fought that monster.”

“No they don’t, and no you didn’t. Shut up.”

Unfazed, Skull wiggled towards the edge of the bed, pawing towards the plate that Bulk had set on his thigh. “Heeey, whaddaya bring me?”

“Nothing!” Again, Bulk glared at the others challengingly, before turning back to Skull with a grumble. “Look, I told mom your throat was probably too messed up right now, but she insisted - just don’t inhale it and hurt yourself.”

“We should get going,” Trini said, as Bulk’s agitation and the awkward silence from the rest of the Rangers stifled the air of the hospital room. Skull, for his part, was too pleased with himself for successfully capturing the plate to notice the atmosphere. “Skull, we hope you recover soon - we’ll try to visit again soon. Bulk, we’ll see you at school…?”

“Whatever.” Satisfied now that the others were finally leaving, Bulk rested balanced his chin on one hand to watch as Skull clumsily tried to pull at the tinfoil. Trini quietly herded everyone else, gesturing Kim and Tommy away from the bedside and lightly grasping Billy by the elbow.

Once they were all in the hallway, Jason turned to his team. “All right, we’re going to head back to the Command Center for now and see what Billy and Alpha can come up with to test what’s going to happen here. The rest of us—”

An unholy screech interrupted him. As one, the Rangers whipped around, battle-ready as they burst back into the hospital room.

“What—” Kimberly gasped, as Skull flapped his hands frantically over his mouth, his scream petering off into a whimper. The overturned plate and several slices of bed were knocked to the floor, and between Skull’s fingers they could see a thin wisp of smoke. Bulk hovered over him, unsure where to settle his hands as he babbled.

“Hey, hey…! Buddy, I made sure she didn’t put any big chunks in it, we know you hate those, it’s all ground up, I’m not—look, if you didn’t like garlic bread anymore you should have told me! Skull, are you—”

“Well,” Tommy said glumly, “I guess that answers that.”

Chapter Text

“We have to tell him.”

“Yeah, that’ll be a fun conversation,” Zack said, leaning against a console. “Hey Skull, just wanted to give you a heads up - you’re some sort of weird space vampire now. We only barely managed to save you! Just want to keep you in the loop.”

Trini shot him an unamused look. “Right, of course. Should we wait until after he’s walked into the sunlight and burns to death?”

“It’s Skull. Even if we did tell him, he’d probably just walk into the sun without even thinking about it anyways.” Despite her cynicism, Kimberly’s remark lacked any real bite, largely because no one could really debate that point.

“Look,” Zack said, “I’m not saying we try to just ignore the situation and let Skull run wild - I want to help him too. But there’s more that we have to consider here.”

“Like the fact that we’ll have to explain how we know about him becoming a vampire,” Tommy said. He took up a position beside Zack, arms crossed. “We can approach him as the Power Rangers, but situation being what it is, we’ll still need to stay close to him until we can figure out what’s going on. Skull might be, well, Skull, but if he’s still trying to learn our identities and stumbles onto something...”

Alpha-5 summed up the mood in the Command Center with a sad, “Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi…what should the Rangers do, Zordon?”

Everyone except for Jason, who was frowning at a wall lost in thought, and Billy who had again secluded himself from the others in the corner, turned to Zordon hopefully. From his tube Zordon looked back at them, pensive and sad.

“It is a troubling situation we find ourselves in,” he began gravely. “You have a duty to protect and help your peer in any way you can, but how you do so will have to be up to your discretion and comfort. However, there are aspects of the situation to consider beyond what Skull might make of both his affliction and how close you want him to your secret. Is that not right, Jason?”

Everyone turned from Zordon to Jason, who was finally looking up.

“What’s he talking about, Jase?” Zack asked.

Still frowning, Jason drew nearer to Zordon and faced the rest of the team. In the dim glow of the Command Center, he looked grim. “I think Rita set us up.”

Silence followed.

“Set us up?” Trini finally said, stepping forward. “How?”

Running a hand through his hair, Jason sighed. “Look, we spent almost the entire day fighting one of Rita’s monster - and while we were busy with that, another one of Rita’s followers swoops in to physically attack someone? And not just any kind of attack—”

“—it was a vampire attack,” Zack finished, already catching on. “Aw man, that’s so messed up. I never thought that I’d have to worry about someone from school turning into the undead.”

“So now Rita has a pawn in place down here…” Tommy said slowly.

“And we have no idea when or how she plans to use him.” Snarling, Kim paced back and forth across the length of the Command Center. “Why Skull, anyways? He’s just...he’s just Skull .”

“He might have just been the first person they found,” Trini pointed out, before taking a deep breath. “Look...whatever Rita has planned, is it worth trying to keep Skull in the dark?”

“So to speak,” Zack said with a wry grin.

Trini couldn’t help but snort. “Ha ha. I’m just saying, he might be safer knowing the truth. At least he’ll know to be on guard.”

“I’d like to repeat: This is Skull we’re talking about,” Kim said dryly. “We’re gonna have to be on guard for him. Even if Rita doesn’t mean for him to join her willingly or something, he’s still really easy to boss around.”

“I’d like to run some tests.”

For the first time since they’d left the hospital, Billy spoke up. Trini reached out, tentatively resting a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t look at her, but his hands tightened against his jeans. “What kind of tests, Billy?”

“I…” He cleared his throat, lifting a hand long enough to adjust his glasses. “Vampirism as understood on Earth is a fictional construct associated with many different and varying characteristics. And we don’t know to what extent Rita’s minion conforms to our already fractured mythology. S-Skull’s adverse reaction to garlic may have been a coincidence - we have no idea what kind of traits might manifest. If I’m able to do some tests to better determine his condition—”

“—then we’ll have a better idea of how to help him,” Trini said approvingly.

Jason glanced up at Zordon, who only gazed back at him with a slight nod. It was a small comfort - at least it meant that they had time to figure things out. Steeling himself, Jason faced his team. “Alright, Rangers - we need more information before we figure out our next move. We keep an eye on Skull, try and get some samples for Billy...and we’ll watch out for him. As best as we can.”

And hopefully, Jason thought to himself, watching out for Skull was all it would come to.

 “I just don’t get what you were doing there in the first place.”

Skull skillfully avoided responding by dropping his head against the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut, whining, “This suuuuuuuuucks.”

“Hey.” Bulk poked his side, more gently than he normally would have done. It was weird, sitting here in this small and sterile room, Skull lying there in a hospital gown without any of his jackets or chains, and watching his usually indomitable best friend get moodier and quieter for the past couple of hours to the point where he had actually snapped at Bulk over shutting the blinds to the window earlier.

The nurses who had come to take out the IV for the transfusion earlier, while taking Skull’s dazed griping in stride, had been cagey with details regarding Skull’s condition. They’d whisper to each other and shoot Bulk odd looks while he tried to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping, but were no hints that Skull was about to drop dead any time soon. Rather, from what little he could overhear, it seemed like Skull’s wound had already started healing up nicely.

Still, however well Skull was recovering, right now he just looked tired and fragile and incredibly high. Bulk didn’t want to risk breaking him any further. Although that didn’t stop him from poking Skull’s side again. “Seriously, dude. If you’d just met me when I told you to, none of this woulda happened.”

“Forgo’ my camera in my locker,” Skull rasped, turning over enough to squash his face into the pillow. “You said we needed t’catch the Rangers.”

Bulk had actually said that, and the fact that this was the first coherent thing Skull had said since being hospitalized felt like a punch to the gut. “You could have just - ugh, whatever. Did you at least run from the monster? You’re usually good at that.”

“Ran into him.” One hand plucked at the blanket, finding a loose thread to tug at. “I screamed. He screamed. We bonded over that. Seemed like a cool guy.”

“He attacked you!”

Skull shrugged. “Guess so.”

Unable to find any other aspect of the situation to argue with, Bulk slumped into the chair. One of these days, Skull was going to give him an aneurysm, and he’d have only his own bleeding heart to blame for it. “...your parents are on their way, by the way. Hopefully they can find a place to park their bikes.”

“Heh...maybe Dad’ll take me out for a ride now, eh?”

“Sure, buddy.”

They fell silent for a few minutes, the steady hum and slow beeps of machinery filling the room instead. Skull’s eyes were drooping, slowly traveling around the room like he was searching for a reason to stay awake. Every so often, his gaze would land on Bulk, who quickly pretended that he’d been looking anywhere else.

After a few minutes, Skull’s eyes were closed. Bulk sighed, running a hand over his face. Skull was right, earlier; this sucked. They should have been on the Power Ranger’s trail, documenting evidence and exposing their identities to the whole world. At the very least, they should be hanging out in Skull’s garage trying to brainstorm their next great idea.

He didn’t want to sit here thinking about how things could have turned out very differently. He didn’t want to think about the shellshocked look on Billy Cranston’s face and his clenched fists. He definitely didn’t want to think about the possibility of walking into school by himself for the rest of highschool.

“BULKIE!” Bulk nearly toppled over in his chair as Skull jerked upwards, eyes flying wide open and arms outstretched. “Wait, I got something real important to tell ya!”

“Oh my God Skull. You don’t have to give me a friggin’ heart attack! What is it?!”

Flopping back onto the pillow, all of his surplus energy now expended, Skull curled around onto his side, watching Bulk blearily. “S’bout the Power Rangers. Somethin’ we can use.”

Bulk’s panic vanished immediately. “I get it, they want to date you now that you’ve nearly been munched on. I’m not going to rent you out to them just to learn their identities.  ...I mean, we can keep that idea on the backburner, but—”

“They cry.”

He paused.

“Yeah,” Skull said, as though Bulk had replied. He cuddled into the bed with a yawn. “When they were pickin’ me up from the school. Turns out they cry. Wild, huh? Thought they’d be too tough.”

“Yeah,” Bulk echoed faintly. “Wild.”

Within the minute, Skull was snoring into the pillow, as though he hadn’t just knocked the entire world slightly off kilter with one innocent revelation.

Bulk watched him, the way his mouth hung slightly open and his hair stuck to his forehead, hyperaware of how cold the room was. He wondered if all those machines hooked up to Skull were supposed to be beeping any faster.

Hesitantly, so as to not wake him up, Bulk carefully closed his hand around Skull’s wrist, seeking some form of reassurance from his thready pulse.

Chapter Text

The attack had been difficult on all of Angel Grove High, in a way that no other attack before had been.

Students had been allowed a couple of days off of school, counselling was freely offered to those shaken and distraught, and the halls were hushed and somber when classes resumed. Caplan had even tried to pull Bulk aside in an attempt to offer support, which had only made Bulk storm and snarl for the rest of the day, while everyone else wisely ignored the empty space at his side.

Even a week later, normality was slow to return. Chatter was picking up, only to muffle itself when passing the hallway where the attack had happened. Bulk hadn’t spoken to anyone. A few rumours spread that Skull had actually orchestrated the attack himself for sympathy points, and the majority of students thought the gossip to be in bad taste. Even the weather, with thick clouds that choked out the sun, enforced a gloomy atmosphere at Angel Grove High.

Eugene Skullovitch undid all that grief within the minute he was back at school.

“HEY, WHERE’S MY BLOOD?”

“If I ever hear you say that again,” Bulk said somberly as Skull circled the spot by his locker where he had been found, looking like a vulture in his baggy black jacket, “I’ll punch you so hard you’ll wish you had died.”

Unperturbed, Skull stalked up and down the hallway, disappointment dragging down every jerky step. He paused for a second, squinting when he raised his sunglasses just in case they had been obscuring his vision. “You guys made it sound all dramatic and junk — I thought there’d be be, like, a stain at least...”

“Ew.” Despite having spent the entire morning telling herself, and then telling Tommy for emphasis, that she wasn’t going to care about this whole fiasco beyond the wider implications that it meant for the Rangers, Kimberly could not in good conscience abide this.

Nearly tipping over in his haste to face, Skull gave Kim a lopsided grin as she stomped from across the hall from her locker, where the rest of the Rangers were clustered. “Heeeey, Kimberly — how’s it going? Miss me?”

“Shut up,” she answered, because she actually had. “Did you actually think they were just going to leave your blood lying around?”

“Uh, yeah? It’s my bloodstain. I wanna see it. No one bothered to get a picture or anythin’ for me.”

“Oh my god. Okay, for one thing? Totally unsanitary to just leave blood lying around.”

“It’s my own blood, ain’t gonna give me any germs…”

“Nice of her to show she cares,” Zack remarked lightly as Kimberly gagged loud enough for people down the hall to look up in confusion. He elbowed Tommy’s side with a grin. “Look at her getting all angry mama bear — you two prepared to adopt?”

Tommy snorted, pushing Zack back playfully. “Man, don’t even joke.”

A step away from them, Trini and Jason were focused on less light-hearted matters.

“He’s lucky the weather’s been so bad,” Trini murmured, as Skull laughed at something Kimberly had said, causing both her and Bulk to share a groan of exasperation. “I’d hate to see how much worse things would get if he spontaneously combusts first day back at school.”

“We don’t know for sure that’ll happen,” Jason said, leaning against the lockers and staring at Skull with a look too intent to be subtle. “Rita’s goon didn’t seem to have a problem hanging out in broad daylight — it might be the same way for Skull, if we’re lucky.”

“Honestly? It’s not our luck I’m worried about.”

The argument had taken on a new volume, as Skull gestured wildly. “I’m just sayin’, it’d be nice to have somethin’ to memorize the whole thing, y’know? So everyone can remember my heroics and stuff.”

“Wha—ugh, you mean memorialize,” Kimberly groaned. “Newsflash, there are better, less disgusting ways to do that.”

“Ah. Like a statue.”

“All right,” Bulk said gruffly, giving Kimberly a warning look as he slid between her and Skull. “No one wants to look at a statue of your ass getting kicked, dude.”

Gritting her teeth, Kim stretched up onto her toes solely to glare at Skull over Bulk’s shoulder. “Don’t be too sure about that.”

Skull just gave her a smug grin that only faltered when Bulk shoved him. “Hey, numbskull, we gotta get to class before people start talking about you being dead again, ‘cuz I’m not gonna bother setting things straight anymore, okay?”

“You mean you want us to get to class on time?” For the first time since the attack, Skull looked properly horrified. “Bulkie, you can’t mean that.”

“Just go, you dork.” With another shove, Skull obediently set off down the hall. To Kimberly’s confusion, Bulk didn’t immediately follow. Instead, he glanced over at Kimberly’s friends before turning to her, shoulders curving inwards like that was supposed make him less noticeable. “Hey, uh...where’s the ner—Billy?”

Of all the things that Bulk could have asked her, she hadn’t expected that. Kim looked back at her friends, realising for the first time that morning that Billy hadn’t joined them at their lockers. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him use his locker all week. “I don’t know — why’re you asking?”

For a moment, the constant crease of Bulk’s scowl eased slightly.

“Hey, Bulkie!”

If Bulk had been about to answer her honestly, she’d never know — he was already turning away with a muttered, “Whatever.” to trudge after Skull, who was looking very put out at having started off to class by himself.

“What was that about?” Tommy asked when Kimberly rejoined the rest of the team, watching as Bulk manhandled Skull into the classroom at the end of the hall.

For a moment, she thought about the way that Bulk frowns — hard and closed for the past week, softer when he asked after Billy. Softer still when he looked at Skull. “I don’t know, I think he’s just...trying to figure some stuff out.”

“And so are we.” Jason pushed himself off the lockers and turning to face everyone else. “Right now, we’re all on Skull watch duty. Stay vigilant, but don’t be too obvious—”

“So follow your example and stare directly at him, right?” Zack interrupted with a small grin.

“—and,” Jason continued with an exasperated look, “let’s try not to alert Bulk to anything. They may have put a pause on trying to discover the Power Ranger identities, but we’re walking on pretty thin ice here. We don’t want to let anything slip while we’re trying to figure out what’s going on and end up dragging either of them into more trouble.”

“Right, because keeping Bulk and Skull out of trouble is so easy.” Rolling her eyes, Kimberly hitched her backpack onto his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go to class — it’s giving me the willies, thinking about how those two are there before us.”

 For the first time ever, Billy Cranston willingly skipped class.

He hadn’t planned on it. Outside of Ranger emergencies (in which case class was usually cancelled in lieu of a monster attack), he could never even entertain the idea not being in class. Even legitimate sick days brought the weight of crushing guilt and anxiety that he would never be able to recoup that lost knowledge.

And he’d gone to school today. He had his bag packed, he took the bus, he stood outside the classroom door. And through the classroom door window he could see Skull in the corner, squinting at the dark mass of clouds outside of the window and tugging at the red bandanna bandaged messily around his neck.

So Billy left. And now he was holed up on the Command Center with Alpha-5, fiddling with gadgets and ideas and mythology.

“Considering the size and scope of the universe, I should have known that there would be creatures analogous to what humanity considers a ‘vampire’.”

Alpha hummed as he handed Billy a soldering iron. “Actually, it’s quite hard to say for sure. Certainly, there are many stories of races that feed on the life forces of other creatures, or are accused of having the capability to forcibly change another creature’s biological imperatives and functions through some form of contagion. But such claims are usually based off of species thought to be long extinct, deeply seclusionist, or simply fictional.”

Nodding his head slowly, Billy carefully nudged a couple of wires into place with tweezers before starting the final touches on his latest device. With this scanner, they’d hopefully be able to measure Skull’s physical reactions to various stimuli.

He poked at the wires again, double checking his work. Better to lose himself in the mechanical motions of engineering than think about the end purpose.

“There isn’t a fully determined concept for a ‘vampire’ on Earth either,” Billy said. A spark flickered from the guts of the scanner, and he reached for his pliers. “Interpretations tend to vary across cultures, time periods, even media — between vampire characteristics from both outer space and our own planet, there’s a lot of ground to cover regarding what traits Skull may or may not suffer from at this point.”

“But from what I can gather, certain traits are going to take priority?”

Billy’s hands, still busy with the scanner, went still. “I...yes, two things as far as I’m concerned. Firstly, we have to establish how the sun will affect him. Reactions could range from mere irritation to full-on combustion. And while the weather has been fortuitous lately, we’ll need to decide which measures to take once the sun is less obscured. We’ll hardly be able to escort Skull with an umbrella without garnering suspicion, after all.”

Years ago, before he became Skull, Eugene would sneak away from home after curfew. He would roam the dark streets and parks, and make up wild gruesome stories that scared himself more than their intended victim until he needed to be escorted home. The idea that he might now have a valid reason to take up the habit again was almost amusing. Not that Billy would know if Skull had ever stopped doing it — it wouldn't be Billy's window that Skull would go to anymore.

Warbling, Alpha started pacing as Billy crouched further over the nearly-finished scanner. “And what about secondly?”

Another spark nipped Billy’s finger. He jerked his hand away, mentally cursing himself for forgetting his gloves as the pain in his finger buzzed through him. It stung his eyes and nestled in his ears. His palms felt warm.

“Secondly,” he said, “when and how he’ll need to feed.”

Chapter Text

Skull had a keyboard stashed under his bed.

It was a gift from his cousin, who told him very solemnly that her full name was Ruby Crystal Skullo-Witch no matter what bullshit her parents insisted on, and who had tried to give him a tattoo with a safety pin and pen ink when he was five.

“Stick to this until you can play some Liszt, dweeb,” she had sneered, a week before she ran away to become a storm chaser in Canada. She still sent postcards from time to time, and once mailed him a switchblade that she had won in a bet with a drunk in Newfoundland. Bulk still didn’t believe anyone that cool could be a Skullovitch.

The keyboard was janky when he’d first got it and it was even worse now, but his mom had sold his grandpa’s old piano when they realised it had termites. That didn’t really matter—the keyboard was more of a guilty comfort than an actual instrument. And more than ever did Skull need that comfort.

Not to seem dramatic, but recent events had left Eugene Skullovitch a little bit bummed out.

It wasn’t necessarily about being attacked. He couldn’t even remember it clearly—tall creepy guy, some screaming, lots of pain. A pair of blurry glasses wet with horror, bright shiny heads swimming above him.

The aftermath royally sucked. The wounds had closed up, scabs already fading into small shiny scars, but a constant low throb continued to plague his neck. Beyond the general aches and pains of recovery, the attack was the least of Skull’s concerns. He was more weirded out by how everyone else was reacting to it.

Soaking in all the attention had been pretty awesome at first. Applebee let all his missing homework slide, people stopped him in the hall to ask about the whole experience and didn’t bat an eye at the small embellishments he made (not like anyone could contradict whether he got a couple of punches in or not), and Kimberly Hart went out of her way to check on him. In a loud, kind of edgy and scary way, but it was flattering.

But as the day went on...maybe it was just because he felt like crap. He had grinned so hard today recounting his adventure that his teeth were starting to ache, and every time the sun cracked through the clouds a headache lanced through his head like knife. But by the time he had stumbled out of Caplan’s office after numerous and unnatural reassurances, and he’d stuffed himself during lunch without satisfying that gaping hole in his gut, and—

Bulk had stood by him all day.

Like, really close. Closer than usual. More like hovering than anything, his big hands lingering at his back or elbow when Skull had almost tripped leaving math class, and maybe he was still a bit high off the hospital drugs because Bulk’s presence was like standing by a pulsating furnace, in a school crammed with hot sweaty bodies and inquisitive eyes that weren’t Bulk’s, because for all the closeness Bulk wouldn’t look directly at him, and the school was so warm and suffocating, all he wanted to do was eat and sleep but he’d already ate and napped as soon as he got home and still he—

The bedroom door swung open and the light flickered on. The music scattered away as Skull jerked, one key crunching in such a way that told him he was out another good note.

“You know,” his mom said, leaning against the doorframe, “most parents would be creeped out by their children sitting in the dark playing weird music after a traumatic experience. You’re lucky I’m so cool.”

Skull agreed by blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden light. “Yeah…?”

“Yeah.” Apparently, Mrs. Skullovitch hadn’t planned any further than bursting in unannounced. Leaning against the doorframe, she gave Skull an appraising, almost nervous once-over. “Was that, er...Bach you were just playing? Tacos and Fuck, right?”

He cracked a grin at that. “Nah, it’s Tchaikovsky.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Still watching him like just one harsh look could shatter his fragile recovery, Mrs. Skullovitch shrugged tersely. “Anyways, Farkas called. You were gonna meet him at…?”

“The Juice Bar!”

Lurching from the mattress with the intent of dashing gracefully out of the door, Skull instead found himself crashing into a pile of dirty laundry, sheets and blankets tangled around his legs.

“Good thing you never clean your friggin’ room, might’ve cracked your face there on top of everything else.” Wrinkling her nose in mild concern, Mrs. Skullovitch leaned down to yank her kid to his feet as he kicked the sheets off. “I got a five, if you wanted to grab some food—uh, no, I don’t have a five. I dunno, maybe your dad has some cash…?”

“It’s cool,” Skull says, giving her a quick hug as he squeezed past her and through the door. “I’ll just bum off of Bulkie.”

Bulk let Skull bum off of him, even though he was nearly two hours late for when they had planned to meet up. Even though Skull had doused his second serving of fries in ketchup to the point of making them inedible and still somehow tore through them like they owed him lunch money, even though it took all of his self-control to let Skull have free reign of the plate, even though this did nothing to reestablish the normalcy Bulk craved.

As time went by, most people had already left the Juice Bar. This late afternoon saw only a few patrons besides Bulk and Skull, including a gaggle of girls from the middle school who had pushed two tables together to giggle over a cootie catcher they were passing around, while Trini and Zack hovered by the videogames murmuring to each other and laughing whenever Zack’s character suffered a humiliating defeat.

“You, uh. You really hungry there, buddy?”

“Yrrrmmgh.” Skull paused, swallowing hard around a mouthful of fries that made Bulk grimace, before nodding rapidly. “Yeah, starving—ugh, gotta say the fries suck today…”

“You’re welcome,” someone said dryly—two milkshakes and a fresh salt shaker settled onto the table as Ernie gave Skull a teasingly dour look. “These were going to be on the house, but I guess if you aren’t going to appreciate anything I make…”

“Aww, Ernie, don’t be like that.” Skull pulled the milkshake towards himself with his most charming smile, but couldn’t hide the dissatisfaction flickering across his face when he took that first sip. “Ugh...I think it’s the dumb meds they gave me, everything tastes gross now.”

Raising his eyebrows, Ernie took the plate and the empty shaker—Bulk hadn’t even noticed Skull polish off the remaining crumbs. “Guess it’s a good thing that you’re eating at all then. Well, it’s just about closing—you boys stay out of trouble now, you hear?”

Bulk just grunted, taking a sulky sip of his milkshake as Skull snapped off an ironic salute. And with Ernie’s departure, the silence between them returned. Now upgraded with slurping instead of munching.

With each gulp that Skull took, Bulk could feel a little bit more of his cool receding. And he could admit that he never had a lot to begin with, especially when it came to Skull, but he was trying , and frankly he was kicking ass at being the calm and supportive presence that his mom had drilled him on. But it was hard to keep that composure with Skull sitting across from him all pale and dumb with deep shadows under his eyes like stark reminders of their terrifying mortality, and he was just slurping so fucking loudly —

“You gonna finish that?”

“Whuh?”

“Your milkshake,” Skull elaborated, absentmindedly licking a stray dribble from his lips as he leered at Bulk’s own, mostly full glass. “Can I have it?”

“Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you,” Bulk said, freezing up even as he spoke. This was it. He finally did it, hurdled over that line between the caring but not-too-smothering friend and a selfish douchebag who cared only for reestablishing the status quo by keeping his milkshake to himself. Skull may as well drop dead on the spot for how little regard Bulk held for their friendship, even now as all the years they’d known each other flashed before his eyes.

“Dunno man,” Skull said. “Just that hungry, I guess. That a no?”

Silently, Bulk slid his milkshake across the table. He probably couldn’t stomach it all down before the Youth Center closed down for the evening.

“Nice! Thanks buddy!” With a small cheers motion, Skull took to finishing off the glass with zeal.

“So, uh.” Bulk shifted in his seat, doing everything he could to not gaze at Skull with disgusted awe. “You wanna do anything after this? Or did you just wanna go home, rest…?”

“If I rest anymore I’m gonna die,” Skull groaned, plunking down the empty glass with finalty. “Night’s just starting, let’s go out and have fun— ”

“We have school tomorrow.”

Bulk knew that was the wrong thing to say even before Skull reacted.

“School?! ” Skull laughed—a little bit high-strung—and slung himself over the table, slapping the back of his hand against Bulk’s forehead. “Sure you ain’t the one feeling sick?”

“Oh, shut up!” Slapping Skull’s clammy hand away, Bulk curled in on himself slightly, trying to hide the flush on his face. “It’s just—you know, after what happened…my mom’s all paranoid, that’s all! I don’t need her on my case.”

Skull grinned, tight and plaintive. “Aw, come on—what are the chances of us being attacked like that again?”

Of course, this was an erroneous claim on many levels. The Power Rangers never had the chance to finish off the assailant, his motives were still unclear, his lust for blood probably wasn’t quelled—but Bulk didn’t have the chance to bring up any of that, or anything else for that matter. When the far wall of the Youth Center imploded, all Bulk could think was, We live in Angel Grove, you dolt.

Back when everything first started, there was a certain thrill in morphing as close to the action as possible without being caught. Trini wouldn’t usually consider herself a risk-taker, but even she couldn’t deny that giddy rush. Nowadays, those extra couple of minutes meant everything.

“Tis I, the Dirty Wyrm!” the creature announced, as Trini and Zack simultaneously ducked behind the games with morphers in hand as the other patrons of the Juice Bar gaped at the intruder. “And I have come to lay my claim...on your dirt!”

A befuddled silence met that statement. Zack took the chance to shoot Trini an unimpressed look before readying his morpher.

“Uh,” one girl said from the middle schoolers who had clustered closer together at the Dirty Wyrm’s intrusion, “there’s more dirt at the park? You can go there?”

If the monster heard her, it apparently didn’t deem her suggestion reasonable or worth a response as it raised its angular arms to the ceiling, thick serpentine body undulating slowly upwards. If it was a wyrm it probably shouldn’t have arms, Trini thought as she whispered, “Sabertooth Tiger,” but Rita probably wasn’t looking for points on accuracy.

“Dirt,” the monster said dreamily, tongue flickering and claws flexed in supplication as it finally cast it’s slitted gaze down at the humans, “so that I may bury the mutilated corpses of those wretched Power Rangers!”

“‘Kay, that’s hardcore,” one of the other girls whispered.

“You can still get more dirt at the park?”

Any further debate was neatly resolved as the floor cracked, jagged fissures running and rattling everything in the room off-balance. As Dirty Wyrm raised its arms ever higher, the cracks deepened and widened and dirt rose from them like froth from the ocean.

“Oh shit,” the first girl said, before the Yellow Ranger and Black Ranger propelled into the middle of the bar, squarely between the Dirty Wyrm and the hapless bystanders.

“Everyone out!” Zack barked, at the same time Ernie shouted, “Okay kids, get movin’!”

Easier said than done, as dirt, rubble, and bits of linoleum whipped through the air, scattering everyone from their tables to stumble for the door. The girls clung to each other and screwed their eyes shut against the thickening dust as Bulk and Skull flung themselves to the ground to avoid being whacked by their table as it flipped upwards.

“Sku-ugh! ” A clump of soil immediately lodged itself behind Bulk’s teeth as soon as he had opened his mouth, leaving him choking and spitting. Desperate and cringing, he crawled forward blindly, patting the shaking ground gingerly until a long-fingered hand found his own.

Tugged upwards and forwards, Bulk could have wept for joy if he wasn’t still hawking dirt out of his throat. Instead, he followed the guiding strength rescuing him from the chaos of the bar until they barreled through the door and into empty, beautiful air.

“Skull, buddy,” Bulk croaked in relief, but stopped short when a yellow domed head turned towards him. “Oh, nope, not my buddy, dammit— ”

“Oh,” the Yellow Ranger said, squeezing Bulk’s hand once and letting go. She twisted around towards the rest of the survivors, where Ernie fussed over the girls, and turned back to Bulk. “Don’t worry, we’ll get your friend out…”

Bulk dropped to the ground heavily, wheezing, not even looking as red, blue, pink, and green flashed around him.

“Yellow!” the Red Ranger barked—precise and efficient, he looked to Ernie and the girls, the shuddering wreckage of the Juice Bar, to Bulk on the ground. “What’s the situation?”

“Black is still engaging the Dirty Wyrm, and we have a civilian trapped inside.”

“Dirty Wyrm?” Pink said. “Do I want to know what that’s about?”

“Lots of playing around in the dirt.”

“Gross.”

“Why is Rita sending worms after us now?” Green said in exasperation as Red stepped away, speaking into his communicator urgently.

“No, it’s a Wyrm. Except, not an accurate one.”

“What? I said worm, how do you mess up a worm?”

A hand tapped on Bulk’s shoulder, dragging his eyes from the Juice Bar to the Blue Ranger crouched stiffly beside him.

“Um,” Blue said.

“...Yeah?”

“Uh.”

Despite the numb terror settling over him like the grime on his skin, Bulk could honestly say that the Blue Ranger’s stuttering, awkward attempt at comfort was probably the nicest thing he could hear right now.

“You suck at this,” Bulk said as thanks.

Blue’s shoulders slumped. “I’m aware.”

“Rangers!” All helmets snapped to attention towards the Red Ranger as he strode back to the group. “Black’s in a situation, he needs back up now. Pink, Green, you two escort the civilians to safety, then come back for back up. The rest of us—”

“Wait a minute!” Bulk struggled back up to his feet, jabbing a finger towards the Red Ranger. “My best friend is still stuck in there, I can’t leave—!”

For what felt like the hundredth that day, a hand landed on Bulk, this time gripping his forearm with gentle firmness. “Bulk,” Ernie said, “it’s okay. They’ll get him out.”

“In time?”

Maybe that came out harsher than intended, but Bulk hadn’t intended to see all of the Rangers flinch back at once. He definitely hadn’t intended the small, self-satisfied thrill that shot through him at that.

“Yeah,” the Red Ranger, straightening his shoulders resolutely. “In time. Count on it.”

“Eleven...twelve...fourteen...uh, fourteen?”

“Yup, that’s more or less right! You’re doing great, dude!” With a grunt, Zack somersaulted out of the way of the Wyrm’s slash, battleaxe coming up just to barely skim the arm as it vanished back into the plume of dirt and debris. “You about done with whatever you’re doing yet?!”

“...I just lost count.”

“FOURTEEN!”

“Don’t think it was fourteen.”

“FUCK .”

Between trying to stay steady on collapsing ground, dodging and failing to land a blow on an annoyingly wily enemy, and trying to prevent Skull being crushed to death (because wouldn’t that be an absolutely hilarious way to end this misadventure), Zack was having a hard time.

Swiping upwards, Zack’s battleaxe cut messily through another clump aimed at Skull’s head, showering both of them in soil and prompting a wail from Skull. “Nooooooo, you messed it up! Now I have to start over!”

“Oh my god, what are you counting? Why are you counting?! You don't like counting!”

“Stop yelling, I can’t count when you’re yelling at me!”

“Then stop counting!”

Strangling a whine, Skull bent back over the mess before him, scrambling through dirt for each visible speck of spilled salt with one hand, clutching the cracked shaker in the other. “Okay, uh, one…two…three…five…six…sev—no, wait, that’s a pebble, gotta start over.”

“For the love of—!”

“GET DOWN!

Ducking, Zack felt the Wyrm’s claws shoot forward, snagging the top of his helmet and throwing him backwards on top of Skull. Before the Wyrm could press its advantage, blurs of red and yellow rammed into it, toppling it over.

“Now, while it’s distracted—” Jason shouted, but the Wyrm was already slithering back, a wall of dirt and stone grinding upwards in its wake. Anyone else would have cursed, but Jason jabbed forward, the tip of his power sword finding a crack and thrusting in. “One of you, get Skull out of here!”

“Wait…” Squirming until Zack rolled off of him, Skull waved the Power Rangers away, even as the airborne dirt thickened into a cyclone knocking Jason and Trini off their feet. With more focus than he’d shown in his entire student career, Skull squinted and pawed urgently through the mess for the remaining specks of salt. “Uh, one! Two! Three! …Four? Yeah, four, six. Eight. Seven! No, ‘nother pebble.”

“What’s happening?” Trini asked, flipping to her feet and sidestepping the widening cracks darting forward for the stab as the Wyrm crept around the crumbling wall to lunge for Zack. “He doesn’t like to count!”

Neatly pivoting away to let Trini score a long, thin scratch up the Wyrm’s arm, Zack scored a spinning kick against its jaw that rattled his ankle. “That's what I said!”

“Just get him out of here!” Jason roared. The Wyrm’s tail whipped around, coiling around and yanking down even as his sword sliced through scales and cartilage. “NOW!”

“Got it!” Eager for a brief break from the battle (he already had to solo it, thanks), Zack turned to grab Skull, only to see Billy crouching over him, punching coordinates into his communicator as they vanished in a burst of light. “...well, he was got at least.”

The salt shaker, nearly emptied from the chaos, tumbled from Skull’s hand as he collapsed against a soft surface. Jarred out of his counting frenzy, Skull stared blearily up at the ceiling and walls as his mind cleared. They were in his bedroom. That was pretty convenient.

Awkwardly standing on the other side of the room, the Blue Ranger nudged some laundry away with his boot before stooping down to pick the shaker up. Blinking, Skull sat up as Blue turned the shaker over in his hands.

“You don't like counting.”

“S’for nerds,” Skull mumbled, but even as he looked down he jerked forward sluggishly at sprinkling of salt clinging to the mess. The impulse itched, at the back of his neck and his hands and his gums.

Before he could start over again with the counting, the Blue Ranger was already picking up the affected laundry, patiently wiping away the specks that had reached the floor and forcing the rest into the overflowing hamper. Skull watched, twitching and silent, until the salt was out of sight.

“Arithmomania,” the Blue Ranger muttered. He stood up straight once he was done, not quite looking at Skull. “It's kind of funny, really.”

“What?”

“Bulk’s okay,” Blue Ranger continued, ignoring Skull’s gaped bewilderment. “It would be in your best interest to contact him promptly and inform him of your status.”

“What? ”

A blue flash took lieu of further explanation, and Skull was left alone in his room with nothing but confusion and vague frustration. Eventually, he pushed himself up and stumbled for the door.

“Yo, mom—where the phone!”