Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Billy sat slumped in his seat at the juice bar, and once again found himself staring down at the quarterly report card he had received that morning with a forlorn sigh.

“Cheer up, Billy. It's really not that bad.”

“Yeah, man, Trini's right,” Jason said, sliding into the free chair between them and giving Billy's shoulder a friendly squeeze, “one less than stellar grade is hardly going to ruin your entire future.”

A grimace was the boy's only response.

Though his friends were probably right, the aberrant grade was still a mar on his record as a straight-A student. The singular B afloat in an ocean of As seemed to mock him from its position on the page.

“Yeah,” Zack suddenly spoke up, sitting on his other side. “It's still not as bad as forgetting you had a date," he said, speaking dejectedly into his drink on the counter.

Billy didn't quite agree, but couldn't help but give his friend a sympathetic nod.

After all the trouble the boy had gone through to woo his dream girl (or 'babe-asaurus' as he put it), Angela had finally, finally given him a chance.

And Rita had made him miss it.

It was the story of their lives.

“Man, I know Rita is evil and all,” the dancer continued. “But messing with our memories? That's just all kinds of wrong.”

This time, the entire gang nodded in agreement.

It had been over a month since Rita's latest monster, Amnesior, had disrupted their daily lives, but they were all still dealing with the fallout to some effect.

The sorceress's plot had been unusual in that it had started slow and small and had even taken them several days to even notice anything amiss. At first it had just been a couple of misplaced objects – books, homework, Trini's car keys – then anecdotes told multiple times to the same people. The memory loss had advanced in increments: Slow enough to be subtle, but persistent enough to progress to the point that they collectively failed to recall why they were all wearing almost identical wrist watches, which didn't even tell the time.

It was only when he had a biology exam that he had forgotten to study for, that Billy noticed what was going on.

Following the insight, the monster had been promptly dispatched of (once the team had figured out how to use their Morphers again), but Billy still shuddered to think about what could have happened if they hadn't noticed the effects in time.

Where would it have stopped? Would they have forgotten their duty to protect the world? Forgotten that they were the Power Rangers? Had it only been a matter of time until they forgot each other, forget that they were friends?

Billy wanted to believe that the power of their friendship would have prevailed, but he had no intention of testing out that theory any time soon. Fortunately for him, it seemed he wouldn't have to.

Apart from the occasional Putty patrol, things had been pretty quiet on the lunar front since then. Not for the first time Billy wondered if Rita's villainous plot had somehow backfired on her and her associates, making them temporarily forget their designs on intergalactic domination.

He wouldn't even be surprised.

“Here you go, guys, one Ernie Special,” said the owner of the Youth Center as he stepped up to the bar and placed an overly large dish onto the counter in front of them. “Maybe now both of you can quit moping around.”

While Zack indeed seemed to cheer up in the presence of the oversized dessert bowl, Billy eyed the sugary sweet abomination with a certain level of doubt.

It was a combination of multiple ice-cream flavours: chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and possibly bubblegum too, with at least five halved bananas squeezed in at the sides of the bowl, all dribbled with caramel sauce and topped with tiny marshmallows and a single, glistening cherry. Even just imagining the sheer amount of sugar therein was enough to make his stomach turn.

Billy had to look away from the sight, taking a few steadying breaths through his mouth.

A moment later a hand touched his arm and he turned to see Trini looking at him with mix of curiosity and concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he responded at length, rubbing a stray hand over his suddenly queasy stomach. “Just not feeling up to ice-cream, I guess.”

“I agree,” Kimberly said, watching Zack tuck greedily into the dessert with a look of unveiled disgust.

“You sure? You're white as a sheet. I hope you're not getting sick.”

Billy sincerely doubted it. Both that his complexion resembled any type of bedding as well as the notion that he could be coming down with some sort of illness.

And he had good reason to.

Ever since they had first come together to form the Power Rangers, not a single one of them had been afflicted with a disease of any kind, nothing so much as a cold. For their age-group, this was not only an accomplishment, but the likelihood of it happening to a normal group of high school peers was atomically small, which supported the theory Billy had developed that the Power, which was giving them their strength and accelerated healing abilities, also had immuno-boosting properties.

Ergo, he wasn't getting sick.

“I'm fine.” Billy rose, carefully maneuvering out of his seat with eyes firmly averted from the from the sight of the grotesque ice-cream confection. “But I think I'll go home and get an early night anyway.”

A sudden noise rang out then, the sound of a chair scraping against the linoleum floor loud enough to prompt several heads on the other side of the training area to turn to the source of the disturbance.

“Want some company?” Jason asked, standing incidentally. “I could walk you home.”

A small flicker of hope kindled in Billy's chest at the thought that Jason wanted to spend time with him, but rational thought promptly dampened the flame.

The alpha was probably just being nice, he reasoned, taking care of this team in his endeavour to live up to the title of their leader. After all, the Putty Patrollers did seem to predominantly attack them when they least expected it, and the presence of a fellow Ranger would certainly give them an increased chance at victory against an ambush.

The Red Ranger had been coming up with variations of the question with some regularity over the past few months. He'd ask Billy and the girls sometimes too, never Zack or Tommy though. He probably thought Billy was the least capable of them all at handling a batch of Putties on his own.

The thought – while probably accurate – stung, snuffing out the erstwhile flame without delay and leaving nothing but the smouldering embers of disappointment in its wake.

The omega gave a stiff shake of his head. “That won't be necessary, I am fully capable of returning home unscathed on my own,” he gave back, his tone perhaps a shade sharper than intended, but then his stomach kept rolling and he simply decided he wasn't feeling charitable enough to take it back.

Jason frowned at the rebuke, brows drawing together as his lips thinned. “I didn't mean-”

“Hey, Jase,” Kimberly interrupted the alpha then, causing him to halt mid-sentence, “don't you have a karate class to give right about now?”

“Oh yeah,” the boy said after a long moment, blinking periodically. “I guess I forgot.”

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing a hand across his neck in a self-conscious manner that had the group of friends break out in a round of well-meaning laughter to which not even Billy was immune.

Chapter Text

Lying in bed (early) that evening, Billy could say with 97% certainty that the day's stomach issues had been nothing but a fluke.

His parents had still been at the office when Billy had got home, but by that time he had already been feeling better. The (reassuringly Putty-free) walk from the Youth Center had aided in calming his digestive system to the point where he had been able to eat a hearty dinner (as far as microwave dinners could be considered hearty) without any ill effects (as far as microwave dinners could be considered capable of producing ill effects beyond its lack of flavour, uneven thermal distribution and questionable nutritional value).

When he woke up the next morning to a rumbling stomach, however, the estimate dropped to 93%.

Then to 87% after a failed attempt at breakfast.

His walk to school had not helped matters and he was forced to revise his estimate further: First to 79% as he set out, with a projected downward trend that – unfortunately – proved itself correct, dipping all the way down to a wretched 62.5% when he actually arrived, clutching at his churning stomach. It was as if he could feel the baby carrots and peas from last night's dinner sloshing around inside him. Rationally, he knew he couldn't, but even rational knowledge was of little comfort when it did nothing to detract from the sensation.

The ailing omega was so focused on reaching his locker in one piece that he failed to notice a presence until a hand landed on his shoulder. Billy flinched, spinning around with sudden combat-ready alertness – a feat that did his already volatile digestive system no favours whatsoever.

“Morning,” his friend greeted him, his usual handsome smile plastered on his usual handsome face.

Billy had to swallow down the liquid that had pooled in his mouth before managing to greet him back.

“Good morning, Jason.”

The alpha's smile dimmed somewhat when he got a better look at him.

“Billy, man, don't take this the wrong way, but you look kind of awful. You sure you're not coming down with something?”

“Positive.” Even at 62.5%, the data still leaned in favour of his theory.

Jason frowned. “No offense, but I don't buy it. You're really not looking good.”

He was just about to launch into a lecture on how his facial features bore no correlation to his internal biological state when Bulk lumbered past, chewing noisily on something still half-wrapped in aluminium foil. Skull trailed after him, begging pathetically for a bite of what Billy could only assume was some kind of breakfast burrito – an assumption confirmed when the smell hit him a moment later, invading his nostrils and tugging sharply at the pit of his stomach. It lurched violently.

He shoved past Jason, veering toward the boy’s bathroom on his right. There was a trashcan by the door, but Billy calculated that he had approximately six seconds before his stomach forcibly evacuated its contents (Note: the figure had been rounded to the nearest integer, owing to his current preoccupation with the sudden digestive revolt).

Given the options, he decided to take the calculated risk of making a mad dash towards the toilet – an endeavour that promised to preserve a not insignificant amount of dignity compared to vomiting in the hallway in full view of his friends, his enemies, and roughly half the student body of Angel Grove High.

He staggered into the bathroom, fortunately finding the very first stall unoccupied, and dropped to his knees, making it to the bowl with only a single second to spare.

*****

Jason had apparently hung back by the entrance, waiting patiently for Billy to first finish expelling the contents of his stomach and then to wash up afterwards, before offering to escort him to the school nurse.

But Billy waved him off. “That's unnecessary,” he proclaimed. He was already feeling better now that there was no longer anything in his stomach to expel. By his estimation, no further medical intervention was required.

Back outside, it was immediately obvious to the boys that some kind of event had transpired in their absence, what with Bulk and Skull sprawled together in a heap on the floor, laughter floating around them, and a long streak of mushed beans and sauce trailed across the linoleum – a probable indication that someone had slipped most spectacularly.

The sight upset the precipitous balance of Billy's gastrointestinal system and he dove for the trashcan, realizing quickly he had been wrong on several accounts.

These were in no particular order:

1) The likelihood of him not being ill had now fallen well below the threshold where such a hypothesis could be considered valid, and he was forced to abandon that hypothesis in favour of a new, far less flattering one.

2) His stomach was in no way as empty as he had previously assumed.

And, 3) there was no way he would escape the situation with even a shred of his dignity still intact.

Chapter Text

In the end, Jason had to all but drag a grumbling Billy to the school infirmary, where Nurse Thompson took one look at them, made Billy sit, and then promptly shooed Jason back to class.

Billy was well acquainted with her office, having been sent there plenty of times over the course of his academic career at Angel Grove High. His visits were rarely serious, usually the result of scrapes and bruises acquired from PE mishaps and the occasional run-in with an unfriendly peer, with both occurrences having (fortunately) lessened greatly in frequency over the years.

Miss Thompson was a no-nonsense omega in her thirties, with short cropped brown hair and a scent of ripe apples, its sweetness dulled ever so slightly by the sharp tang of disinfectant permeating her place of work.

She smiled kindly as she questioned him. What had he eaten? Anything out of the ordinary? Other symptoms like headaches or fever?

He negated all her inquiries and she hummed contemplatively as she checked over his file. Offhandedly, she mentioned that a stomach flu had been making the rounds, but Miss Thompson methodically continued with her questioning all the same, dutifully adhering to protocol as fitting her station as a seasoned school nurse.

“Could it be a symptom of your pre-heat maybe?”

“Negative,” Billy negated once more, “I never experience digestive issues in association with my heats. In any case, my next heat isn't due for...”

Billy halted momentarily, calculating, and then recalculating when the initial results refused to yield a plausible conclusion. Because his last heat should have occurred about five weeks ago.

Only he couldn't remember that it had.

His heats had come with reassuring regularity ever since they'd first started when he hit puberty – every 92 days precisely. He'd never missed one before.

Then again, he thought when another option presented itself, maybe he hadn't missed it at all. After all, five weeks ago was just around the time of Amnesior's attacks. Just because he couldn't remember it, didn't mean it hadn't happened.

The thought was far less comforting than it could have been.

What else had that monster taken from them? he wondered, his ire rising at the thought of how it had been diminishing them by robbing them of their memories, stealing pieces of their very selves. For what were human beings if not the compilation of their experiences?

A polite cough pulled Billy back to the situation at hand and – meeting Nurse Thompson's expectant gaze – he promptly decided this was neither the time nor the place for philosophical contemplation.

“It isn't due for another two months,” he finished awkwardly into the overextended silence.

The woman gave him a long look. “Alright.”

She stepped away briefly and returned with a glass thermometer. After cleaning it, she shook it down a few times and instructed him to place it under his tongue. Billy complied. He sat on the cot, tapping his fingers in a regular staccato beat against the bedding, while Nurse Thompson moved about her small office, jotting down notes in his file.

After a couple of minutes, she returned to his side and removed the thermometer. She let out a small sigh. “Well, you're not running a temperature,” she said. “How's the stomach?”

Billy took quick stock of his internal digestive system. “Much improved,” he answered, truthfully and somewhat surprised. The Gatorade she had provided him with had not only managed to rinse away the acrid aftertaste of repeated emesis, but the electrolytes within had also helped settle his stomach by restoring its chemical balance.

It had also been blue, his favourite.

“Good. Think you're up for going back to class, or would you rather go home? I could call your mother to pick you up.”

Billy considered it. “I'd rather stay, Miss Thompson. I'm already missing class as it is.” It was only Home Ec, so he wasn't particularly concerned, but his parents were both at work and he didn't want to disturb them for a minor inconvenience like an upset tummy.

The woman nodded and scribbled something on a small pink slip, before tearing it off with a quick flick of her wrist. It was a hall pass to explain why he was late for class.

“Okay.” She held the note out, but didn't give it to him yet. “But only if you promise me to come back here immediately if you start feeling ill again. Can I trust you with that, Billy?”

“Yes, Miss Thompson.”

His reply earned him a warm smile, and this time when she held out the note for him, he took it, slipping it into his back pocket with deliberate care.

“Alright then, off to class with you,” she said, giving him a gentle nudge towards the door.

“I will, and thank you Miss Thompson.”

Chapter Text

Kimberly waylaid him after class, but then Billy had been expecting nothing less.

The Pink Ranger had sent him a questioning glance when he'd arrived late for Home Economics, exchanging the hall pass and a quick word with their teacher before sitting down. Since they were working on different projects, the two of them didn't have the opportunity to talk during class, but he'd apparently interpreted her look correctly to mean that they would be having words later.

And now, later had come.

He was on his way to his locker when the ambush was set in motion.

“Hey, Billy,” the girl greeted him, starting her interrogation with a disarming smile that Billy couldn't help but return. “It's not like you to be late for class.”

“I had to go to the nurse's office this morning.”

“Oh yeah?”

Although Kimberly's reply carried her usual brand of casualness, Billy was able to make out the undercurrent of concern that accompanied the words of his oldest friend and fellow omega.

He gave her a quick outline of the events that had transpired that morning, and when he finished, she sighed, fixing him with the look of the long-suffering.

“You know, Billy, I think you are the only teenager on this planet who would voluntarily choose to stay at school after being given the option to go home.”

He responded with a one-shouldered shrug. “I didn't want to miss class.”

Kimberly's eyebrows shot up in obvious disbelief. “I mean, I know you're a nerd and all, but you really expect me to believe that you didn't want to miss Home Ec? Really?”

“Well, perhaps not that class specifically,” he amended sheepishly.

They were the only two from their friend group who shared the elective, and Billy had only signed up for the class at Kimberly’s insistence. After his disastrous attempt at creating a cheese soufflé during the short time span in which their personalities had been displaced, along with her equally disastrous attempt at leading an elementary process tutorial, which had somehow ended in an actual explosion (though Billy was still at something of a loss at how she had even managed that), they had struck a deal: She'd tutor him in Home Ec and he'd return the favour by giving her a (hopefully only metaphorical) crash course in computer programming.

Out of the two of them, Kim definitely seemed to be having an easier time holding up her end of the bargain.

And Billy could handle the sewing assignments. Some of the things they'd learned in class were actually useful life skills, like first aid and managing personal finances. But cooking? The intricacies of food preparation stubbornly resisted his usual methods of analysis. If it were up to him, he'd much rather leave the field to professionals, like Ernie, the school cafeteria staff, and his mom, all of whom had somehow mastered the art of cooking without setting off the smoke alarm. Twice.

“Are you feeling better, at least?” Kim asked.

“Affirmative,” Billy responded. Whatever bout of nausea he had experienced that morning was long gone by now, making him conclude with confidence that it had been nothing but a fluke after all.

Chapter Text

The gang met up for lunch at their usual table at the cafeteria.

Trini and Kimberly were already seated, chatting between bites of salad when Billy sat down with his tray.

“Looks like someone's hungry,” Trini teased, eyeing his full platter.

She wasn't wrong. Since he'd skipped out on breakfast that morning, he really was hungry. To his mortification, his stomach had even growled loudly during social civics class, earning him an amused look from Miss Appleby and some chuckles from around the class at his expense. Additionally, he needed to make up for the lost calories from the morning's... incident, and his choice of a full order of tacos with everything, a side of tater tots and a chocolate milk to go with it, reflected that.

He'd only just started to tuck into his lunch (with the appropriate amount of gusto) when the others arrived.

“Hey, gang,” Zachary greeted them, shimmying over with a tray laden with hamburger and fries. Tommy and Jason followed close behind with similar meals along with small cups of fruit salad for dessert.

The latter boy hesitated momentarily when he noticed Billy among the small crowd, but caught up quickly enough, sliding into the free chair next to him before anyone else could take the seat.

“Hey, Billy, I thought you'd gone home?”

Billy carefully contained his sigh. He had hoped the subject wouldn't come up again. Naïvely, it appeared.

“Why would he have gone home?” the Green Ranger asked, sitting down next to his girlfriend.

“Hey, Tommy,” Kim greeted him shyly.

“Hey, Beautiful,” the boy greeted back, leaning in and brushing a finger across her cheek before placing a chaste peck there.

Billy averted his eyes for multiple reasons. It was partly out of discomfort at the public display, partly out of respect for their privacy, and partly – a very small part perhaps, but undeniable – due to the pang of longing that tightened his chest at the open and easygoing affection the two shared.

Meanwhile, Zack had been animated by the boy's question. He quickly swallowed down the fries he had stuffed into his mouth and said, “Oh man, you haven't heard?” He nudged Tommy's shoulder and nodded over to Billy, who was making very good progress at devouring his meal. “Hallway rumour has it that Billy Boy Blue here took a ride on the Vominator this morning before class.”

“Gross, Zack, not over lunch,” Kim complained, poking at her salad with a lot less interest suddenly, while Tommy simply looked up at him with a mouthful of burger. “Huh?”

Trini shook her head, exasperated. “It means he threw up.”

“Oh.”

The older boy grimaced, looking down at his burger with an uncertain expression. Then he shrugged and continued eating.

“Seems like you're feeling better now though,” Jason noted. He had yet to touch his own food. “Right?”

“Prodigious,” Billy agreed, and scarfed down another taco.

Trini gave them a look and scoffed under her breath. “Boys.”

Much to Billy's relief, the conversation soon shifted to other matters – mostly homework assignment and classes, with a short anecdote reserved for Bulk and Skull's morning exploits. Billy continued eating, only chiming in occasionally with the odd comment. He finished off his lunch in record time and tuned into the conversation more fully afterwards

Jason and Tommy were talking about an idea they'd had for a karate class.

“I can see it, you and Tommy'd make a great team,” Trini was saying.

Billy nodded. “It's truly inspiring that you'd volunteer your time to teach free classes,” he commented, which made both boys smile modestly.

“Yeah, and martial arts is such a great way to keep kids out of trouble,” Zack pointed out, trying (and failing) to steal pieces of Jason's fruit salad as he spoke.

“It's just an idea so far,” Tommy reminded them. “We still have to talk to Ernie about setting up a space for the class, as well as arranging a schedule that will work for all of us. There's a lot to be done before the actual classes can even start.”

“I'm sure you'll do great,” Kim spoke up, staring lovingly up at her boyfriend and hugging the arm she had access too. The alpha all but blushed at the attention.

“Yo, Billy, you want in on this, man?” Jason pulled his tray out of Zack's reach and offered the fruit salad to the boy next to him.

“Sure,” he said, snatching up a few pieces. He wasn't going to say no to free food.

The move earned the boys a look of theatrical betrayal from Zack, but Jason simply turned, meeting his gaze dead on and smiled. Then he calmly went back to eating, which in turn made the boy grumble something about him playing favourites.

The bell rang to indicate the end of lunch break and the gang started to pack up. Only Zack and Jason remained seated.

“You guys heading to the Youth Center after class?”

There was a chorus of agreement from Trini, Tommy and Zack too, but Billy shook his head.

“No can do, I have a tutoring session this afternoon,” he said as he stood.

“Oh.”

Kim hummed in agreement. “And my mom has a work party tonight, so we're going out this afternoon to get our hair done.”

“Aw, that's so sweet,” Trini said.

“That's too bad. I guess we'll see you guys tomorrow then.”

“Sure thing, Jase,” Kimberly responded, adding a little wave as she departed, Billy following close behind.

Chapter Text

With a small sigh, Jason watched four of his friends leave the cafeteria.

“You know, one of these days your eyes are gonna get stuck like that,” Zack told him, though Jason still didn't move.

“Like what?”

“Like stuck to Billy's ass.”

Jason picked up his tray and got up, rolling his eyes in the progress, which – to be clear – had been nowhere near the comely ass in question.

“Then again, you might not even mind,” the other boy continued to tease as he got up as well, following Jason as he made for the entrance. They discarded the leftover contents of their trays into the trash and placed the plastic trays onto the stand by the door before stepping into the hallway that connected the cafeteria to their classrooms.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Jason said as he walked, which was nothing short of a blatant lie, given that he knew exactly what the other boy meant.

“Oh yeah? How about the fact that you never share your food.”

“I share my food all the time,” Jason replied mildly, looking back at his friend with a tilt of the head. “Just not with you.”

They continued down the hallway through the dwindling throng of students, until they reached their lockers. Both him and Zack had a free period, during which they'd normally try and chip away at some of their homework before PE started.

Jason was rummaging around in his locker for his notebook when he felt eyes at the back of his head and turned to catch Zack staring at him. “What?”

“You got it bad, man,” the boy remarked, leaning casually against a set of lockers. “When are you finally going to fess up and ask the boy out?”

As fate would have it, it was just then that a certain Angela from 10C walked past, momentarily diverting the beta's attention as he stole a glance at the dark-skinned girl.

Jason chuckled at the implication. “Pot, kettle, meet the Black Ranger,” he said, snapping his friend back to the conversation at hand and earning him a bout of facetious laughter to boot.

“Ahaha, that's funny. You're a real comedian, you know that?”

Jason turned back to his locker, but Zack was nowhere near finished. “It's not like I haven't tried. At least your crush occasionally acknowledges your existence,” he grumbled, making for his own locker.

Jason was caught between denial and comforting his friend, for whom he knew the (lack of) relationship with the beautiful alpha and long-time crush was something of a sore topic.

Seeing however as Jason was only a teenage boy, he opted for the option best suited to his social standing.

“I'm not crushing on Billy.”

A loud snort sounded in the hallway.

“Oh come on, you don't really believe that's going to convince anyone. Everyone with eyes can see you're head over heels for him,” the boy proclaimed, prompting Jason to give a surreptitious glance at their surroundings, finding – to his relief – that most other students had cleared out of the hallway by now.

“I know, the girls know, even Bulk and Skull know, which is as low as the bar gets around here. The only reason Tommy hasn't figured it out yet, is because he hasn't been around long enough to see you making puppy-dog eyes at him all the time.”

Jason wanted to argue that he did not, in fact, make puppy-dog eyes at Billy – ever, never mind all the time – but he had a feeling the effort would be for naught.

Because what could he say? He knew he was in love with him too. After all, how could he not be? Billy was amazing. He was intelligent, and nice, and brave, and that one time they'd been walking home and a storm had come out of nowhere and he had offered Billy his jacket, and it had done strange things to Jason's stomach seeing the boy in his clothes, the entire episode having left him fidgety and tongue-tied in the omega's presence for the entire following week.

But then... Billy was also observant, and if Jason was really as obvious as Zack was making him out to be, then surely he must have noticed Jason's attempts at flirting by now.

Only he never reacted to them.

Was is because his attempts were really that paltry that the other boy didn't think anything of it beyond platonic gestures of friendship? Or did he notice, but simply ignore them, because he didn't want to reject Jason outright? Who knew if he was even into guys like that. And just because he was an omega didn't necessarily mean that Jason even stood a chance at-

“Stop it, dude, I can hear you thinking.”

Jason stopped thinking and sighed instead. “I can't ask him out. It might mess up the team.”

Zack chuckled. “Oh, sure,” he started, stretching the word out far beyond the usual bounds of its single syllable. “That's why you're not doing it. Not because you're afraid he'll say no, but because keeping the team dynamics intact is so important to you. I mean, just look at what's happened since Tommy and Kim officially started dating,” he gestured into the empty hallway as if it would make the members in question's presence manifest. It didn't. “How responsible of you not to make the same mistake.”

At the mention of his friends' relationship, Jason knew he was being made fun of. Kim and Tommy were great together. Yes, Jason may have worried about what would happen to their friend group if she and the newly rejoined Green Ranger decided to start spending more and more time together, alone, instead of with the rest of them, but that never happened, at least not to the extreme measure Jason had been imagining. And in any case, he wouldn't even have held it against them if they had done exactly that – knowing the two of them were happy together would have totally been worth it.

“Can it, Zack.” The alpha shut his locker with more force than strictly necessary and pushed away from the wall. As far as he was concerned, this conversation was over.

Zack was of a different opinion. The boy laughed again (probably at Jason's expense) and hurried after him as he started making his way towards the library.

“Hey look, I'm just saying you should ask him out before somebody else does.”

That got his attention.

Jason froze mid-step, stopping so abruptly in the middle of the hallway that Zack nearly collided with him. He whipped around, eyes narrowed.

“Somebody else? What do you mean? Has he said anything to you about seeing someone?” the questions tumbled out, sharp and too fast.

Jason's brain was already in overdrive. Somebody else? Who? He tried to recall if he'd seen the boy interact with someone outside their circle lately – he tended to notice things like that, like who Billy spoke to, whose jokes he laughed at, who lingered at his locker, who he sat next to during lunch – but no one came to mind. There had been Marge, of course, that one time when she'd asked Billy to the dance, but that had been months ago, so that probably wasn't it. Right? Right. Still, the words had already dug in, burrowing deep into his consciousness. Somebody else. Great. Now he had a new nightmare scenario: Some faceless alpha swooping in while Jason was standing around pretending not to care. Should he up his game? No, too risky. He couldn't be too forward. Slow and steady wins the race. He had to be patient. And careful. Then again he was always careful. And look where that got him. But apparently he still wasn't careful enough, because now Zack was standing there, smirking at him and Jason realized too late that this reaction was exactly what his friend had wanted.

Darn it.

“This is what I mean,” the boy said, looking downright smug as he swept a hand in his friend's direction. “The only reason Billy hasn't noticed all of this-” he gestured broadly at Jason, “-is because he's too wrapped up in his own head. Bro, you're so whipped it's embarrassing.”

Jason clenched his jaw. Yeah, he knew. He'd known for a while. Months. Probably ever since that storm that had drenched them both to the bone. Billy should have looked ridiculous, shivering in Jason's too-big, too-red jacket, but Jason had been too distracted to notice, too busy staring at the rain drops that had caught in the boy's long, dark lashes, glittering like tiny crystals.

Pretty. That was the word that had blindsided him then, and it still knocked the wind out of him whenever he thought about it. Billy Cranston was pretty. And Jason was doomed.

And hearing Zack say it out loud felt like someone had just turned on the hallway PA system and announced it to the entire school: Jason Lee Scott is hopelessly, pathetically, and irrevocably in love with Billy Cranston.

He shook his head mournfully. “Nothing will ever come of it, Zack, so just forget it.”

Zack disagreed. Loudly.

“Oh no, Ernie was right, there has been way too much moping going around lately,” he said, conveniently failing to mention that he had been a large part of that. “So, the Zackman's got you covered.”

Jason crossed his arms, doubtful. “And just what are you going to do?”

Zack grinned, rubbing his hands together like he was unveiling a master plan.

“I'll be your wingman, your hype man, your personal coach in the fine art of bagging the boy of your dreams. And when we're done, Billy won't be able to resist you. You'll be known far and wide as Jason Scott: Romanticizer Extraordinaire. And that's a guarantee, or my name isn't Zachary 'The Zackman' Taylor.”

Jason's doubt persisted. “You sure you're the best teacher for this?”

“Oh come on, man, don't be like that. It'll be great. Operation 'Woo the Blue' is officially a go.”

The dancer spun around in a little victory twirl right in the middle of the hallway. He was way too hyped about this.

“It'll be a team effort.”

Jason grimaced. “Don't say that.”

Zack snapped his fingers in his direction with a smile. “You're right, I won't say that, because that sounds really weird and I am definitely not into Billy that way. No offense, but my type has a bit more...” He trailed off, waggling his fingers and tracing curving outlines in the air. “You know what I mean?”

Jason shook his head in exasperation. “I generally try not to.”

The response earned him a playful shove on the shoulder and when he looked, Zack was grinning at him like the whole thing was already a done deal. “What have you got to lose anyway?”

Jason thought he could probably write up a list, an entire essay even, but the sad truth was that there was nothing he wouldn't gladly risk for a chance at getting the boy in blue to notice him as more than just a friend and teammate, to impress him, to win him over, to turn Jason's hopeless daydreaming into something real.

He sighed. “Alright,” he said and Zack pumped a fist into the air in excitement. “Romanticizer Extraordinaire, huh?”

“Scout's honour.”

He slung a friendly arm over the beta's shoulder, graciously ignoring the fact that Zack had never been a scout a day in his life, and allowed himself to feel positive about the situation that had been all but hopeless not even half an hour before.

Needless to say, they didn't get any of their homework done before PE.

Chapter Text

As a general rule, people disliked being proven wrong.

It was a sociological phenomenon shared by most human beings across cultures and throughout history: Being proven incorrect was never particularly pleasant. Of course, this changed nothing about the reality that people were, on occasion, wrong, making mistakes and drawing erroneous conclusions from available data.

Billy, for all his intellect, was no exception. He too was susceptible to this thoroughly human flaw, and he too disliked being proven wrong.

He especially disliked being proven wrong, when being wrong meant his mother finding him doing the full technicolour yawn into the toilet bowl of the Cranston household's shared bathroom the morning after he had – apparently – erroneously concluded that his digestive issues of the previous days had been a temporary fluke.

That wasn't to say his mother wasn't just as human as he was, and thus, similarly fallible.

She had immediately leapt to the erroneous diagnosis of viral gastroenteritis, even though – as Nurse Thompson had correctly observed – he displayed none of the additional symptoms one would expect for such an ailment, such as fever or... expedited bowel output.

And, like so many humans before her, she also did not particularly enjoy being told that she was wrong.

Billy tried to explain how a flaw in her reasoning had led to a faulty conclusion, but she would not hear it. Instead, she called the school and excused him from class for the day. Then she ordered him back to bed, told him to rest and to stay hydrated, and generally fussed over him with all the effusiveness characteristic for the maternal subset of the species until she had to leave for work.

As mothers were the highest authority known to mankind, Billy decided to heed her commands to the letter. He was apparently also more fatigued than he had thought, because once in bed, he was able to fall back into a state of slumber, only waking much later into the morning and feeling significantly more functional than he did before. Then he made himself a cup of tea and set about reviewing the coursework he assumed they were covering in class.

He didn't mind the work – his mind was always craving stimulation and the opportunity to solve problems – but he quickly found it was decidedly less entertaining without his friends to keep him company. The pages of his textbooks and even the articles of the science magazine he consulted after he completed his self-appointed homework assignments offered facts and explanations, but lacked the dynamic unpredictability and occasional humour that came from human interaction.

In short, he missed his friends.

He was momentarily tempted to use his communicator to contact them, but reminded himself that they were not to be used for personal reasons. And he doubted Zordon would permit the occasion to be reclassified as an “emergency” simply because Billy was bored. And so, he resigned himself to simply miss his friends from afar.

He wondered what they were up to.

He reasoned he could construct a working model of their individual activities. It's wasn't like he had all their schedules memorized, but – Power Ranger duties aside – they were all creatures of habit, and based simply on prior experience, it wasn't all too difficult to extrapolate their likely whereabouts, especially now that classes had concluded for the day.

The Youth Center seemed the most probable location.

He could see it in his mind's eye: Kimberly would be practicing her gymnastics, unless Tommy was present, in which case the two of them would most certainly be holed up in their own private world, talking over at the juice bar while sharing one of Ernie's exotic smoothies.

Jason would be over at the mats, training, working his way through endless karate routines with the kind of focus that seemed both intimidating and admirable.

Zack might be there too, sparring with him, unless, of course, he'd been distracted by the appearance of a certain pretty face, in which case all bets were off.

Ordinarily, Billy would be sitting with Trini at one of the tables, either working on homework or discussing one of his projects. And every so often, when he found his gaze wandering – usually, though not exclusively, in the Jason's direction – Trini would catch him, and she would smile and give him that maddeningly knowing look.

Not that there was anything for her to know. Honestly, the conclusion she appeared to have reached was based on a deeply flawed chain of reasoning, riddled with fallacies. For instance: Post hoc ergo propter hoc – the assumption that just because his eyes occasionally followed Jason's movements, it automatically implied an underlying emotional inclination. Completely erroneous.

So what if he observed Jason with some frequency? Jason happened to be a highly efficient martial artist, his physical control bordering on textbook perfection. It was practically academic to study him. If Billy occasionally tracked the flexion of muscle groups, the precision of stance transitions, or the economy of motion, that was merely an exercise in biomechanics. A scientific one. Entirely objective.

And the fact that his mental notes sometimes veered into adjectives like “impressive,” “captivating,” or – on one shameful occasion – “alluring,” was entirely incidental. A slip of linguistics. It did not imply infatuation. To say otherwise was to mistake data collection for romantic fixation, which was absurd, preposterous and utterly unfounded.

*****

At the Youth Center, Jason's sparring session was suddenly interrupted by an unexpected sneeze.

Zack bounced on his feet, lifting his eyebrows. “Man, that sounded rough. Hope you're not catching the flu too.”

Jason shook his head. “Nah, it just came out of nowhere.” He rubbed his nose for good measure. “You still up for more?”

A grin spread across Zack's face. “Come at me, bro.”

Chapter Text

If not for the over-the-counter anti-nausea medication his mother had brought him after work, Billy didn't know how he would have survived the following days.

Instead of abating – as they would have had he really contracted stomach flu (which he hadn't) – his digestive issues only seemed to worsen as time moved on. Bouts of nausea would strike without warning, no longer confined to the early hours of the morning, but appearing throughout the day, and often in response to foods that he'd never had issues with before, such as cooked broccoli, fish (though admittedly he'd never cared much for it anyway), melted cheese, and even the familiar and normally comforting aroma of his father's morning coffee brewing in the machine.

There were also other symptoms that started surfacing soon after: Stomach cramps, fatigue, the occasional light-headedness when he stood up too quickly, chest soreness, and frequent urination... Though the latter Billy attributed to the vast amounts of ginger tea he was consuming in his attempt to counteract the nausea on a more home-remedial basis.

None of the symptoms were severe enough to merit concern, but it was enough to drive him to distraction, especially since they did not fit any recognizable pattern of disease that Billy was aware of. Fortunately, neither his friends nor his family seemed to catch on, chalking up his lack of energy and general moodiness to the lingering effects of the stomach flu (that he did not have).

Billy was lucky that Rita had yet to devise a new scheme to take over the world (via Angel Grove), but he knew his luck would run out sooner or later. He had to figure out what was going on.

That was how he found himself alone in the Command Center one afternoon, having told his friends that he wanted to use the lull in enemy activity to oversee some routine maintenance on the computer systems.

That wasn't a lie in as so far as that was exactly what Alpha 5 was doing as he pottered around their headquarters, humming an off-key melody to himself.

All Billy had told Alpha was that he wanted to run some tests. He hadn’t specified on whom. The robot was a nervous wreck at the best of times, and Billy had no desire to aggravate his already anxiety-prone circuitry by suggesting that something was wrong.

As to whether Zordon knew what the Blue Ranger was really up to as he ran several toxin and contamination sweeps, a metabolic flux analysis and a full bio-scan on himself, Billy could only speculate. His energy tube was dark, suggesting the galactic wizard had withdrawn to whatever interdimensional space he occupied when not actively defending Earth against the forces of evil – wherever that was.

It was definitely a question worth contemplating, but perhaps at some other time when Billy's attention wasn't fixed on the monitor, his eyes studying the diagnostic readouts as they rolled across the screen, brows furrowing more with each figure that failed to align with any logical hypothesis.

“This can't be right.”

“What do you mean, Billy?”

The little red robot fluttered over to him in his usual fashion, peering at the print-out over the boy's shoulder. If Alpha was at all surprised that Billy had been running tests on himself, then he didn't show it.

Billy pointed to the section of the readout that he was struggling with. “See here? The biochemical analysis says that I'm displaying elevated levels of human chorionic gonadotropin along with... “ he read the line, then read it again just to be sure, “...progesterone?” He shook his head. “Alpha, this equipment must be faulty.”

“I assure you, my equipment is in full working condition,” he replied, an defensive edge to his otherwise mechanical voice. “Should you not have those?”

“No. Well, yes, technically, everyone has those hormones, but normally at such low concentrations that they’re practically untraceable.”

“Is that a bad thing then, Billy?”

“Not inherently, but it implies that I'm pregnant, and that... just can't be right.”

As an omega, Billy was distinctly aware that he did, in fact, have the capacity to conceive a child. He'd learned as much in health class and through the awkward but necessary “safe sex” discussions he'd had with his parents: Once when he was twelve (precipitated by nothing more scandalous than a thank-you kiss on the cheek from a girl whose missing dog he'd helped return) and again one year later when he presented as an omega.

So, he knew about protection, prevention, and responsibility. He even knew the statistics. He was perfectly prepared to consider the possibility of offspring of his own. Someday. Far in the distant future. As a theoretical construct, filed neatly under the subject of 'adulthood'.

But all of that was a moot point, because of the simple fact that Billy had never engaged in sexual intercourse before. At least not to his knowledge. And he assumed he'd be the first to know.

The only logical conclusion was that the equipment was malfunctioning. Either that or the universe had spontaneously decided to abandon every natural law of biology for the express purpose of making his life significantly more complicated.

After everything he'd experienced this past year, he wouldn't even be too surprised.

“The results do not lie, Blue Ranger,” a deep voice suddenly spoke up, meaning that Zordon had been present all along. Joy. “You are indeed with child. I can sense it.”

Billy froze, blinking as the meaning of the words failed to register. Silence settled over the Command Center in what could only be described as a pregnant pause.

Hah.

“But Zordon, that's... that's not possible. How-?”

He cut himself off, cheeks flushing hot. Of course he knew how, on a purely theoretical level. The mechanics were straightforward enough. That wasn't the problem. The problem was the total absence of any actual practical opportunity for said mechanics to have been applied to his person.

Unless… unless there had been some bizarre offshoot effect from morphing energy? Or perhaps exposure to trans-dimensional technology? Or... or what if Rita had managed to develop some kind of reproductive sabotage beam?!

His mind spiralled, cataloguing possibilities with the speed and efficiency of a malfunctioning quantum processor. Most of them made no sense. None of them made sense.

“This,” Billy muttered to himself, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, “is a biological paradox. I cannot be pregnant.”

“I remind you of the events of several weeks ago. Your fight with the memory-corrupting monster you have come to know as Amnesior.”

“I remember,” Billy replied, confusion evident in his voice. For all that the monster had made them forget things, his presence was ironically memorable in his mind. “But what does that have to-?”

Oh.

Oh no.

His heat. The heat he couldn't remember.

Billy's stomach dropped.

He snatched back the print-out, eyes scanning the pages as he tried – desperately – to recall what he had learned in health class so long ago. He didn't know the numbers by heart, not the exact cut-offs, or the intricate biochemical minutia, but he remembered enough to know that the figures lined up, at least superficially.

Six weeks ago. The theory would fit. The numbers worked.

But... but that meant that Billy had... with someone else... That he had been with someone during his heat. Willingly, perhaps? Probably. But who...?

The logical part of his brain wanted to catalogue probabilities and run hypotheses, but panic was rapidly overtaking his senses. His pulse spiked. His palms went clammy. His chest constricted.

Alpha flitted anxiously around him. “Billy, calm down, you're overheating your neural processors. Ai-yi-yi-yi-yi!”

“I think... I think I need to sit down.”

Billy slumped down onto the steps that led up to the Command Center proper, drawing in deep and steady breaths just like Mr. Cole, the school counsellor, had taught him to do when his anxiety threatened to overwhelm him. Granted, those instructions had been in the context of final exams and not... this, but after a long minute it seemed to the trick here too. His respiration system settled into a kind of agitated calm, enough for him to breathe, think and, finally, speak.

“Zordon,” he started weakly, “you weren't affected by Amnesior's spell. Do you know what happened?”

“I am sorry, Billy,” Zordon said, his tone carrying the weight of ages. “For all my wisdom, I am not all-knowing. I do not know where you were at the time, nor whom you were with.”

Billy sat, dragging a shaky hand across his face. “But... what am I going to do?”

“Oh, poor billy,” Alpha intoned, stepping behind the boy and patting his back with an unexpectedly heavy robotic arm.

“I wish I could tell you.” Once more Zordon's deep voice filled the chamber. “But one thing is certain...”

He looked up. Zordon's face in the tube was serene and severe. “Though you are a Power Ranger, your child is not. I cannot condone the risk of sending a civilian into battle.”

The words hit Billy harder than he expected. “Are you saying…” His voice cracked, “...that I can't be a Power Ranger any more?”

“No, that is not what I am saying. Unless you give up your powers willingly, you will never cease to be a Ranger.” At this the Blue Ranger allowed himself a small, relieved breath. “But it is not that simple. Even if you were to relinquish them, Rita knows who you are. She would target you regardless.”

“So, I'm too fragile to fight, but too dangerous to be safe,” he summed up. “Speak of an unbalanced equation.”

“This situation is as new to me as it is to you. But remember, no matter the outcome, you will not face it alone. Your team will stand beside you.”

“The team?” He stood suddenly, shrugging off Alpha's continued efforts. “I can't tell my friends about this,” he argued, voice pitching higher with each word. “They'll think I'm reckless and irresponsible. Some kind of...” he waved his hand in an aborted gesture, “...omegan trollop, going around and getting knocked up by the next best alpha I could find. And now I can't even fight? I was already the weakest of us all, and now they'll realize that I'm only holding them back and they'll kick me off the team for sure.”

Zordon's expression did not waver, even as Billy's words tumbled out faster and faster.

“Not to mention my parents! What am I supposed to say to them? 'Hi Mom, hi Dad, funny story, turns out that while I was off fighting evil as my superhero alter ego that you know nothing about, I got zapped by an intergalactic rage monster, who erased my memory of how I lost my virginity to someone – no, I don't know who – and oh, by the way, I'm having a baby.'” His hands flailed upward in frustration. “They'll ground me until graduation! Only I won't even have a graduation, because I'll have to drop out of school and I'll never get my GED or go to college, my entire future will be ruined and I'll end up the kind of omega parents tell their kids cautionary tales about!”

He dragged both hands through his hair, fingers catching on the blond strands. “I'm only fifteen. I'm supposed to be doing calculus homework tonight. Calculus! I don't think I'm ready for this, I don't think I ever will be.”

“Oh, Billy, everything will be alright, I'm sure of it!” Alpha chimed in, but Billy wasn't listening. His gaze was darting wildly around the Command Center, as if looking for an exit that wasn't there.

“I have to go home,” he said, his voice tight as he tried to fight back tears. “I have to... think, and come up with some kind of solution. Or maybe just wake up. Maybe this has all just been a bad dream. That's possible, right? Cause it certainly feels like one-”

“Blue Ranger.” Zordon's voice resonated through the chamber, calm and steady, like cliffs breaking against a storm. “It is ultimately your decision, but whatever path you choose, remember this: the Power will protect you.”

Billy took a shuddering breath, nodding once, but didn't trust himself to answer. Clutching his communicator, he activated the transport sequence, feeling the familiar pull as the light engulfed him and the Command Center dissolved around him.

Chapter Text

Jason had just rounded the corner, espying the exact shade of blue he had been searching for over the past ten minutes when he witnessed the collision of the blue shape with a darker, decidedly rounder form.

“Hey, watch where you're going, four-eyes,” the larger form sneered.

“Yeah!” a voice echoed from behind him, snickering like a hyena.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” the smaller boy muttered, momentarily wavering on unsteady on his legs as the pages of the notebooks he had been carrying scattered across the floor.

The two faux-leather-clad figures turned as one. Like predators, they had an uncanny instinct for sensing vulnerability. And now they drew closer, circling like sharks who had found wounded prey and had decided to go for the kill.

Before Jason even realized it, he had moved as well. He stepped up behind the boys, a hand firmly clamped on each shoulder to halt their advance. “Back off Bulk, it wasn't his fault.”

“No, his assessment is accurate.” Billy spoke as he stood, rubbing a tender spot on his head that had obviously made contact with something hard and Bulk-shaped. He didn't look at Jason. “I wasn't adequately observing my trajectory, so the blame does reside with me.”

“Huh,” Bulk grunted. He and Skull exchanged a look, perplexed that someone was actually agreeing with them for once. Or, at least they thought he did.

“That's right,” Skull contributed after a moment, sounding equally unsure.

Jason's eyes narrowed. “Don't you guys have anything better to do?”

Skull jabbed a finger toward Billy. “Hey, he ran into us.”

“Yeah,” Bulk jeered. “Maybe you oughta tell your little boyfriend here to stay out of our way.”

Billy's flinch was slight, but unmistakable. Without a word, he dropped down and started scraping together his fallen possessions.

“First bad grades, now bumping into people in hallways... You turning punk on us, Cranston?” Skull asked, though – as usual – Jason had a hard time telling whether it was meant as some kind of insult or as a serious question.

“Why don't the two of you just get out of here?” Jason asked instead, standing to his full height and towering over the wannabe bullies for all intents and purposes.

Skull all but squeaked. He slipped from beneath Jason's (perhaps somewhat unnecessarily forceful) grip to dive back behind the protective human shield that was his friend and partner in crime. Even Bulk seemed to have lost some of his usual colour as he daintily slapped away Jason's hand.

“Yeah, well, turns out we actually do have better things to be doing. C'mon, Skull. Later, dweebs.”

As the pair scurried off, Jason crouched to help Billy collect his scattered notes from the floor. He accepted the last of the wrinkled pages with a subdued word of thanks.

“Don't let those guys get to you, man,” Jason said as they stood.

“I can deal with them on my own, you know. There was no need for you to get involved,” Billy replied, still avoiding Jason's eyes.

“I'm not just going to stand around while those two give you a hard time. That's what friends do.”

“Friends. Right,” the boy muttered. He adjusted his glasses and turned around to leave.

After a single moment of frozen confusion, Jason went after him, having to jog slightly to keep up with the boy in blue as he continued down the hallway towards the school's main entrance. “Billy, listen, I was thinking... They opened that new exhibit at the museum, and I was wondering if the two of us wanted to go check it out.”

Jason thought that any mention of the word museum would spark some interest, or at least slow him down enough to consider it, but Billy only shook his head, his stride unbroken.

“Not today. I've got something I'm working on at home.”

Jason masked the sting of disappointment with practiced ease.

“Oh, a new project? Maybe I can help-”

“I doubt it,” Billy cut him off, sharp, but not unkind. “Some other time, Jason, alright?”

“Yeah, sure. Another time,” Jason said to his retreating back, shoulders only slumping when the boy disappeared out the entrance and out of his sight.

“That went well,” a familiar voice suddenly spoke up and only Jason's discipline, honed by years of karate training, kept him from jumping out of his skin.

“You saw that?”

“The entire sad display,” Zack said with a small grin as he pushed away from the wall he had been attending to.

Jason sighed. “I don't even know what I did wrong. I thought for sure that he'd give the museum invite a chance.”

“It was a good call. I'd give it an A for effort. But maybe try and tone down the whole 'growly alpha defending his territory' vibe.”

“Billy's not my-” Jason started, then clamped his jaw shut. Not the hill he wanted to die on. There were much nicer hills. “I wasn't growling.”

“You totally were. Very intimidating. Made me wanna tuck tail and run.”

Jason gave his friend a look. “Really?”

“Nah.” Zack smirked. “But only because I know you're really just a big teddy bear.”

“I can be intimidating,” Jason argued back, crossing his arms, “...if I wanted to.”

“Sure, pal,” he said, then patted Jason on the shoulder in a manner that was friendly and totally not condescending at all. “Anyway, back to the problem at hand – the problem being Billy boy bolting like you suddenly sprouted fangs.”

Just then, Kim and Trini appeared, strolling up from the other end of the hall.

“Hey, guys,” Kim's voice drifted over as they came to join them by the wall, though upon taking in Jason's expression she followed it up with “What's wrong?”

“Billy rejected him again,” Zack announced.

“Oh.”

“Zack!” Jason hissed. “Does the word secrecy mean nothing to you?”

“Nope. Foreign concept,” the boy gave back blithely. Then he rolled his eyes and gestured to the girls. “Okay, I'm sorry, but do they look even a bit surprised?”

They didn't.

The Pink Ranger smiled – a mix of uncertainty and glee. “It was supposed to be a secret?”

“Yeah, Jase, it's not like you've exactly been subtle about it,” Trini agreed.

Jason lifted his arms helplessly, doing his best to ignore the heat creeping into his face. “Come on, guys, what is this, rag-on-Jason day?”

“Hey guys, what's going on?” Tommy asked as he approached. Just in time.

“We're ragging on Jason,” Kim admitted sweetly.

“Yeah, what about?”

Trini crossed her arms and gave the boy in red a vaguely pitying look. “Billy.”

“Oh man, tough luck,” Tommy said with a sympathetic nudge to Jason's shoulder.

Great. Now even Tommy knew.

“Am I really that obvious?”

Zack said nothing – an answer that was possibly more incriminating than anything he could have said. Tommy simply replied with “Kinda” while Kim launched into a drawn-out and spiel about how he wasn't totally obvious all of the time. And Trini, with all the weight of absolute certainty, just said “Yes.”

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “I don't know what I'm doing wrong, guys. This is the first time I've gotten him alone in days. It feels like he's actively avoiding me.”

“I don't know, he hasn't really been hanging around with any of us lately either,” Zack said, a frown replacing his smirk.

“Yeah,” Trini added quietly. “I'm actually kind of worried.”

“Maybe he'd still just recuperating from that flu,” Kim argued. “I mean, you know how guys are when they get sick.”

Three sets of eyes turned to her expectantly.

“Oh come on,” she protested. “My dad always used to act like he was on the verge of death every time he got a cold.”

“Maybe he was,” Tommy offered – the voice of solidarity.

Kim replied nothing to this, only turning her head to share a long-suffering look with her friend in yellow.

“No, that's not it,” Jason said, thinking back over the past week. “He was bummed out even before that, ever since getting that B in class.” And it certainly hadn't helped that Skull had brought it up again just earlier.

“A B isn't even a bad grade,” Kim replied, exasperated. Of course she'd say that; Jason had seen her report card. “And it's not his fault that he forgot to study.”

“It really isn't, but you know how Billy can be,” Trini reminded her.

“Man... First a B, and then the flu,” Zack said, counting off on his fingers. “Boy's really been having some bad luck as of late.”

“We should do something nice,” Kim proposed. “You know, to get his mind off things?”

Trini tapped a finely manicured finger against her lip. Once. Twice. “How about a picnic in the park?”

“That could work,” Kim said. “But no fish.”

“No fish whatsoever,” Trini agreed.

Tommy seemed somewhat momentarily mystified by the mention of fish, but didn't ask, simply giving his girlfriend a nod. “Count me in.”

“Alright,” Zack said, his usual grin back in place. “Sounds like a plan.”

Jason shook his head slightly, but replied, “Sure. Just don't make me ask him. He might just say no out of habit.”

Chapter Text

“Billy?”

Kimberly stood outside the familiar off-white shingled Cranston residence. There was no response to her call, so she let herself in through the green-painted side door that led into the garage.

The workshop – affectionately nicknamed Billy's “lab” – was bright but cluttered, every surface crowded with gizmos, gadgets, and pieces of equipment Kim that couldn't begin to name, let alone guess the purpose of.

Billy sat at the worktable, hunched over some contraption, completely absorbed. She tapped her knuckles lightly against the doorframe. “Hey, Billy.”

The boy jolted, blinking up at her as though surfacing from deep thought. “Oh, Kimberly. I wasn't anticipating your arrival quite so expeditiously.”

She arched a brow. Given the context, she assumed what Billy had just said translated to English as her being early. Only she wasn't. In fact, she was late.

She'd washed her hair before coming over, but the humidity in the air had forced her to style it with a flat iron (after blow-drying, but before putting gel in, of course) and it had taken forever to heat up. And, well, it was like they said: You can't be fashionably late without being fashionable.

...She was almost certain someone had said that before.

“Well, here I am.” She moved into the room properly. “Not sure how I can help though. I mean, after last time...” She trailed off, unsurely. The last time she had “helped” on a project, it had admittedly not gone very well. It wasn't that she had been banned from the lab since, per se, but she's certainly been keeping her distance. Especially from anything potentially flammable.

“What? Oh. No, that's alright. I didn't actually require your assistance with a project.” He blinked and then fixed her with a wide-eyed stare. “That isn't to say that I don't appreciate your company, or that your assistance hasn't been valuable in the past, or that I-”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Relax, Billy. I get it. No offense taken.” If anything she was relieved. Science wasn't really her forte anyway. “I don't mind just hanging out if that's what you wanted.”

The boy nodded. “Actually, I needed to converse with you regarding a matter of some importance, if you're amenable.” He gestured towards the empty chair across from him.

Kim sat down, smiling tentatively. “Geez, you're making it sound so serious.”

“It is.”

Great, she thought, allowing concern to finally flood her thoughts. He had asked for her to come to his place after school via a note that he'd passed her during their last joint class of the day. On the one hand, she'd been overjoyed to have him reaching out after almost an entire week of keeping his distance from the gang. On the other hand, she couldn't help but wonder what it was all about.

It wasn't too unusual for Billy to get caught up in one of his projects, sometimes for days, but this seemed different. Especially since it didn't look like he was actually working on any project at the moment, never mind that he had been using that excuse to bow out of their plans each and every day this week.

Had they done something wrong? Kim didn't think so. Besides Jason's overly disastrous attempts at flirting, nothing had really changed much lately, and even that particular train wreck had been going on for months by now.

She also really doubted it was about that bad grade he got, but you never know. What if Billy had decided that hanging out with them was cutting into the time he could spend studying instead? What if he had found other friends who were more up to his intellectual standards and didn't want to be seen with them anymore?

She didn't know. But for better or for worse, it seemed like she was finally going to find out.

“Okay, you're officially worrying me, Billy. What's this about?”

The boy hesitated, then leaned forward. “I've got something to tell you. But you can't tell anyone-”

“Is this about Jason?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Billy's frown was immediate and puzzled. “Why would it be about Jason?”

“Oh.” She waved her hand, backtracking fast. “Pfft. No reason. Please continue.”

“You can't tell anyone about this,” Billy repeated, his voice pitched low. “Not even Trini.”

Wow. Not even Trini. That was, like, DEFCON 1 levels of secrecy.

“I'm serious, Kim.”

“Yeah, alright. I swear. Cross my heart and hope to die,” she mimicked. “You can trust me.”

“I know I can.” The boy breathed a small sigh. “I'm just not sure sure how to start.”

She leaned forward across the table and placed her hand over his. “I'm your best friend, Billy, you can tell me anything.”

Billy nodded slowly. His hand closed around hers, their fingers tangling together; he didn’t let go. For a moment he just breathed, then, haltingly, he began to speak. “Do you remember about a month and a half ago... when Rita dispatched that monster who interfered with our memories?”

She was about to reply, but before she could get as much as a single word out, the boy continued. “Well, I mean, obviously you don't actually remember, because that was the entire point, but-”

With her free hand she gestured for Billy to stop.

“I remember,” she said, and she did. Of course, she remembered. Would that she could forget. She still got shivers thinking about that thing. “And I totally still have gaps in my memory too,” she added, assuming this was where the conversation had been heading.

Apparently, there had even been an... incident at the Hart family dinner one evening between her and Chad, but Mom still didn't want to talk about it, so that's been awkward. Admittedly, it was kinda sweet how her mother had been trying to get her and her latest boyfriend to get to know each other. And it's not that Chad was a bad guy or anything... He just wasn't Dad.

“Right.” Billy cleared his throat. “Well, you see... uhm, during that time, my memory... wasn't the only thing that was compromised.” He trailed off, waiting for her to catch onto his meaning. When it became clear that that wasn't going to happen any time soon however, he added, “I'm pregnant.”

Kim stared, certain that she had misheard. “Come again?”

“I'm pregnant,” he said again, as if repeating the word would somehow have it make more sense (Note: It did not).

The boy sighed again, his grip on Kim's hand tightening ever so slightly. “During that period, I experienced a heat,” he explained. “I have no memory of the events that followed, but I must have engaged in… sexual activity, because as of now, I am six weeks pregnant.”

Kim blinked as she looked at her friend. And then she blinked again, head tilting in apparent skepticism. “Are you sure?” she asked, almost too casually.

Billy looked faintly perplexed at her lack of surprise, but answered anyway. “Affirmative.”

Kim's expression remained doubtful. “And this is really happening? This isn't just some spell that Rita sent to mess with your mind, and make you hallucinate, or me, or both of us?”

“Uh...” Now Billy was the one blinking. “There's no evidence to support such a hypothesis-”

“Because you have to admit, stranger things have happened.”

“Well, I suppose-”

“Though maybe not stranger than you being pregnant,” Kim finished, that last word catching on a partly hysterical laugh.

Kim wondered if the shock was finally beginning to set in, because she felt jittery and hot and if Billy was correct and this wasn't just some sort of shared hallucination, then what Billy was saying is that he – Billy Cranston, her fifteen year-old best friend, who constantly had his nose stuck in a book, who couldn't notice someone hitting on him even if they spelled it out in Morse Code on his calculator (though she totally made a mental note to pass that idea along to Jason just in case) - was pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant with a child.

Oh my gosh.

Oh. My. Gosh.

At the slight squeal that escaped Kim's throat, Billy shot upright in his chair, his hand sliding away from where it had been resting alongside Kim's, his eyes darting toward the door. “Keep it down!”

“Your parents aren't even at home,” she reminded him, only for a terrible, terrible thought to bubble up from the depths of her brain. “Billy... Do your parents know about this?”

The boy slumped into himself in his chair and quietly replied, “Negative.”

Kim shot up from her seat, unable to sit anymore. Her fingers splayed before her, fluttering like a bird.

“Oh my gosh, Billy, you have to tell your parents.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to say?”

“That I don't know.”

She started pacing the length of the workshop, hands running though her hair, mussing up her freshly straightened strands. “Oh man, oh boy, oh Billy.”

She stopped then, giving the seated boy a look. “I feel like am literally dying, how are you so calm right now?”

“I already had my own nervous breakdown in the Command Center several days ago,” he explained with a shrug.

“Oh. That actually makes me feel a bit better.” Wait. “In the Command Center? Does that mean Zordon and Alpha know?”

Billy nodded. “They've been of… limited help.”

“But, like, what did Zordon say? And what about the Power Rangers?” Another terrible thought hit. “Gosh, Billy, what about school?”

“I don't know.” The boy looked up. He wasn't crying, but his eyes were red-rimmed and Kim could see the stress of the situation etched on his face, like he'd aged a decade overnight. They were so going to need a spa day after this. “I don't have any answers. None of my scientific knowledge will help me. It feels like I'm drowning...”

Kim pushed to her feet, rounded the table and pulled her best and oldest friend into a hug before she had even realized. “Oh, Billy. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make it worse.”

“Trust me,” he spoke into her shoulder, voice flat, “there's very little you could do to make this situation any worse than it already is.”

She didn't doubt it, but wasn't going to test it either. Instead she asked, “What are you going to do? Are you going to keep it?”

“What do you mean?” He pulled out of the embrace to look up at her, puzzled.

“The baby. Are you going to keep it?”

“You mean, like, adoption?”

“Or abortion,” she suggested, blunt but gentle. “Though, I guess your parents will probably have a say in that.”

“I haven't really thought about it.”

“That's okay.” She rubbed his back lightly. “You know, no matter what you decide, we're all here for you. You don't have to deal with this alone.”

He shifted beneath her touch. “But that would require informing the others.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “You should definitely tell the others. And I even know the perfect opportunity: The picnic.”

“What picnic?”

“The picnic that was supposed to be a surprise for you,” she admitted unapologetically. “You see, we've noticed that you've been kind of miserable lately and some of us,” she didn't mention who, “thought that maybe you were still upset about that B you got for biology-”

“I assure you,” Billy cut in, “a singular instance of suboptimal academic performance is quite low on the list of my current concerns.”

“I know, but the point is that everyone's been worried about you,” Kim said, catching his gaze. “And even if the situation is big and scary, we'll feel better for knowing what it is and how we can help rather than being left in the dark to wonder and worry.”

“I don't want to make this everyone's problem.”

“Billy, we're your friends. We want you to be our problem. A burden shared is a burden halved. Not,” she added quickly, “that you're a burden. Or a problem.”

“Thanks,” he said with a grimace. He exhaled slowly. “I'm just not sure I'm ready to tell the others yet.”

“Okay. That's fine. You have time.” A pause, and then Kim couldn't resist muttering, “About eight more months.”

Billy turned to her with a flat look. “Really, Kimberly?”

“Sorry.” She offered a sheepish smile.

The boy shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips that hadn't been there before. Encouraged, Kim tried a different path.

“Say, you got ice-cream in the house?”

“Ice-cream?” Billy blinked at the abrupt change of topic. “Sure.”

“Chocolate chocolate chip?” she wagered, knowing his favourite.

He hesitated, suspicion plain on his face, but finally nodded, “Only the best.”

“Perfect.” She sprang up from the table she'd been leaning against and tugged at his hand. “Come on.”

Billy let himself be pulled up, muttering, “I fail to see how consuming frozen dairy products will resolve anything.”

Kim gasped theatrically, hand over her heart. “And you call yourself an intellectual. If I've learned anything in my long and experience-filled life, it's that ice-cream fixes everything.”

He gave her a look. And caved. “Well, I guess the hypothesis does merit the validation of a practical experiment,” he conceded.

“That's the spirit.”

Chapter Text

Billy had known the peace wouldn't last forever.

Their adversaries had been quiet – too quiet. Even the Putties had been conspicuously absent for the past two weeks.

It was an open secret that no one mentioned out loud, likely out of fear of being the one to jinx the fragile status quo, but they all felt it: Rita was lying in wait, preparing, building up to something big. And yet, except for remaining vigilant, there was very little they could do about it, at least until the next time Rita reared her ugly head again.

So yes, Billy had known the peace wouldn't last forever.

He just hadn't expected it to blow up in his face quite so spectacularly.

*****

Billy was right in the middle of a particularly finicky algebra problem when his wrist device chirped to life. His gaze shot across the table to Trini and Kim, who had been studying alongside him. Ever since their conversation a couple of days ago, the latter had been sticking to his side like hot (pink) glue, keeping him company between classes and generally making it her personal mission to cajole him into spending time with the rest of the team. Which... helped. It was easier when she was around – the burden of secrecy not feeling quite so crushing. After their talk, it really did feel like a weight had been lifted from him. Only metaphorically, of course. In fact, the indecent amount of ice-cream they had consumed that evening had resulted in a very real heaviness the next day.

Now, the three friends exchanged quick looks before they started packing up their books with practiced efficiency. On the other side of the Youth Center, Jason and Zack made their excuses to Ernie, who had been keeping them supplied with smoothies and idle chatter from behind the bar as they took a break from their training. The man watched his young friends go, brow furrowing in mild confusion, then he shook his head with a shrug and went back to wiping down the counter.

Reunited, the group ducked into a side hallway, instinctively reaching for their communicators as they came to a stop. Once they'd made sure they were out of sight and earshot of the afternoon crowd, Jason tilted his wrist closer and spoke low, “We read you, Zordon.”

“Power Rangers,” Zordon's voice intoned, resonant even through the tiny device, “your presence is required at the Command Center immediately.”

Jason glanced around at the others, gave a sharp nod, and replied, “We're on our way.”

In a flash of coloured light, the five teenagers teleported out of the Youth Center, rematerializing in the familiar surroundings of the Power Rangers headquarters.

“Rangers,” a high-pitched voice greeted them as soon as they arrived, “it is so good to see you again.”

“You too, Alpha,” Jason answered, before turning to face the glowing tube. “What's going on, Zordon?”

“It is as we feared,” their mentor intoned gravely. “Rita is up to her old tricks again. She has created a new monster and has let it loose upon Angel Grove Park. Observe the viewing globe.”

The five stepped onto the raised platform and gathered around the spherical screen. At first, Billy didn't see anything that resembled a monster, only tangles of green leaves and ivy-like foliage draped across grassy plains. And then the leaves began to move.

“It is called the Creeping Creeper,” Zordon explained. “A carnivorous vine monster, with which Rita intends to ensnare the planet.”

Kim leaned closer to the Globe, her voice tight with alarm. “What's it doing to those people?”

On the screen, hapless parkgoers were shown thrashing helplessly as thick vines coiled around their bodies like chains. Though the Globe offered no sound, the image of their open mouths and wide eyes carried the echo of their frightened screams. Within moments, the victims went slack, drained and immobile, while the Creeper's tentacle-like vines slithered around them, cocooning them in pod-like structures of twisted branches and tangled vines.

“My sensors confirm that the monster is absorbing their life essence, growing stronger with each victim. You must defeat the Creeping Creeper quickly, before it becomes unstoppable.”

Jason clenched his fists. “It sounds like we're going to need the Green Ranger's help.”

Zack stepped forward, frowning. “Yeah, but Tommy wasn't with us.”

“The Green Ranger must conserve his powers as much as possible,” Zordon said. “Nonetheless, Alpha will attempt to reach him, and keep him in reserve should the situation become dire.”

Jason look into the round once more. “Okay, guys, let's do this-”

“One more thing,” Zordon's resonant voice cut in. “Billy...”

The Blue Ranger froze at being singled out by the age-old wizard. All at once, their last conversation surged to the forefront of his mind, its implications unearthed from where they had been hastily buried beneath urgency of the situation: He couldn't go with them, he couldn't fight. Zordon would not allow it, now that there was more than just Billy's own safety at stake. For a moment, he feared what the galactic being would say that could give him away. Despite Kim's assurances, Billy was not yet ready for the others to know of his... delicate situation.

“…you will remain here,” Zordon continued, “and assist Alpha in monitoring the battle from the Command Center. Run a situation analysis and see if you can identify a weakness in the monster's defences.”

Relief rushed through Billy so swiftly it left him feeling momentarily light-headed. “Yes, sir.”

The Red Rangers eyes narrowed, but no one questioned their mentor's orders. As the others stepped onto the platform, Billy quietly moved aside. Kim passed him last, her hand brushing his arm in a quick, reassuring squeeze.

“Good luck, Rangers,” Zordon intoned.

Collectively, the four raised their hands to their Morphers.

“Alright, guys, it's Morphin Time!”

*****

Rematerializing in the middle of Angel Grove park, Jason immediately saw the extent of the chaos.

Long vines were spread in every direction, curling around trees and benches and – worst of all – ensnaring the innocent civilians who had been unable to escape the creature's reach in time.

The Rangers had only taken a few steps in their direction when the Yellow Ranger called out, “Oh no, Putties!”

It was an ambush, the Red Ranger thought as the gray figures suddenly swarmed them from all sides.

“Alright,” he growled, clenching his fists. “We'll deal with them before freeing those people!”

The Putties lunged, but the Rangers' response was swift and devastating. They were used to Rita's clay minions by now, their strikes efficient and rehearsed. Within minutes, the battlefield was littered with dissipating dust as the last of the Putties vanished into thin air, retreating like the cowards they were.

Jason should have known better. Too late, he realized they had only been a distraction.

A sudden force yanked his leg out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. It was one of the Creeper's vines, its grip like a vice, unrelenting as it continued up his legs. Jason looked up and saw his teammates caught in similar snares, struggling against their living chains.

“Oh, this is so gross!” Kim cried, disgust evident in her voice even through the Pink Ranger's helmet.

Before Jason could respond, a dark green form began to rise from within the writhing mass of foliage. Stalks and branches began to gather, twisting themselves into a hulking shape. The Creeping Creeper's body was indistinct, with no discernable features save for a jagged mouth lined with thorny teeth and a single, milky-white eye glaring above it.

“Looks like I've got you all rooted to the spot!” the monster bellowed, its accent vaguely European, its leaves shaking wildly as it laughed.

Great. Jason suppressed a groan. Now the puns were starting.

“You’ll make wonderful fertilizer for my garden!”

Jason snarled, pushing back against the vines' grip. “Not today, Mulch Face!” He reached for his Morpher. “I call on the Power Sword!”

The crimson blade materialized in his grip and he raised it high above his head. “Time for us to cut you down to size!”

Jason swung the blade with all his might, slicing through the vine with ease. The Creeper screeched in pain, and the hold on him released. He dropped back to the ground, rolling to his feet.

But the victory was short-lived. Where one vine had fallen, two more had already sprouted, writhing and snapping like serpents.

“Snip all you want!” the monster jeered. “I'll just grow back stronger!”

The Creeper threw its arms wide, its new tendrils shooting out in every direction. “Grow, my little saplings, grow! Let's show them the true power of nature!”

Jason's stomach tightened. “Uh oh.”

He quickly raised his communicator to his lips. “Billy, we've got a problem!”

*****

“I see it, Jason,” Billy responded, his voice clipped but calm as he worked beside Alpha in the Command Center. His eyes darted between the Viewing Globe and the streams of data printing out of Alpha's console. “The creature appears to be deriving additional energy from each new offshoot. It is, in effect, exponentially compounding its own strength.”

“Which means what exactly?” the Black Rangers' voice cut in, muffled over the sound of combat in the background.

Billy adjusted his glasses, brow furrowing. “Which means that conventional melee strikes will be largely counterproductive. Try your Blade Blasters. A concentrated beam of photonic energy may disrupt the regenerative process long enough for you to gain an advantage.”

*****

“Right,” Jason replied without hesitation. “Okay, Rangers, let's light this thing up!”

He drew his sidearm, but before he could fire, something hard slammed into his chest with explosive force, knocking the breath from him. He staggered back with a grunt of pain.

“It's time to weed out you weaklings!” the Creeper bellowed, hurling another barrage. Seed pods burst all around them, crackling with energy.

Because, of course, the seed pods were explosive.

“It's the end of the vine for you, Power Rangers!” the monster taunted, its tendrils snapping out like whips.

Jason levelled his blaster, firing a volley of red bolts. The shots struck the Creeper square in the chest, only for them to scatter harmlessly across its leaf-like hide in sparks of wasted energy.

“Huh?!” Jason exclaimed.

He raised his weapon a second time, hoping another shot would yield a different outcome, but this time the Creeper was faster. A mass of vines shot forward, slamming the blaster from his grip. Another tendril coiled around his torso like a python, sap soaking into the red of his suit, the stench of rot and greenery filling his visor.

“Jason!” the Yellow Ranger cried, only to be caught herself as more vines lashed out in every direction.

The Red Ranger fought with every ounce of strength, muscles straining against his bonds. But the harder he pulled, the tighter they constricted. The world blurred, closing in with crushing force until all Jason could see was green and the creeping edge of darkness.

*****

Back at the Command Center, Alpha was flailing his robotic arms in frantic distress.

“Ai-yi-yi-yi-yi, the Rangers have been taken captive!”

Billy bit his lip and forced his gaze away from the screen and back onto the printed readouts of their latest analysis.

“The spectral analysis shows that the creature's energy is concentrated in that ocular sphere,” he explained. “It appears to function as a central nexus for the creature's regenerative powers. Once that is destroyed, the monster's growth should be severely limited.”

“But how can they destroy it? Their blasters aren't having any effect on the creature,” Alpha pointed out.

Billy crossed his arms, frowning. He had been wondering the same thing.

Because they should have worked. Everything he knew about plant biology suggested that the Creeper – assuming his physiology was consistent with Earth flora – should have been harmed, or should have at least shied away from an overabundance of light. But it hadn't.

He started pacing, trying desperately to recall what they'd learned about photosynthesis and chlorophyll-based respiration systems in class – oh, he really wished he'd studied for that last exam.

If only Kimberly were here. She was their resident expert on domestic horticulture. Yet, like the others, she too was trapped, encased in a cocoon-like capsule, at the mercy of that monstrous Creeper, until Billy could find a way to save them.

His pacing continued.

Sunlight didn't seem to be affecting the Creeper either. Perhaps the light was too diffuse? No, that couldn't be it. The Blade Blasters were, in effect, lasers, emitting concentrated high-energy beams of light across short distances. Extreme heat would probably work. Maybe a flame thrower? No, too risky. One wrong move and the flames could spread to the surrounding foliage, potentially harming the people who were captured.

The quiet pitter-patter of hasty footfalls echoed across the Command Center until they suddenly stopped.

Wait a minute... The blaster's shot hadn't simply been ineffective, it had completely bounced off the creature as if it were actively repelling the light. Plants didn't absorb the entire spectrum of light, only certain parts.

“The blasters are set to the wrong wavelength,” Billy said, more to himself than anyone else. “They're scattering energy across too broad a spectrum. If I can narrow the pulse, and concentrate the beam at specific absorption bands, it might destabilize the cellular structure long enough to shatter it.”

“Good work, Billy,” Zordon intoned as the little red robot beeped appreciatively. “Alpha, alert the Green Ranger. We will need him soon.”

“Will do, Zordon.”

It took only minutes for Billy to reconfigure the weapon, adjusting the crystal matrix and recalibrating the emitter to a narrow band.

But Tommy had yet to show up.

“Alpha, we need the Green Ranger to battle the Creeping Creeper,” Zordon said, his tube glowing in the closest approximation to distress the disembodied presence was able to covey.

“But Zordon, he's still not answering!”

“Keep signalling him.”

Billy's gaze lingered on the Viewing Globe. Jason and the others were trapped, straining against green coils that pulsed with stolen life. For a single, awful second he imagined them all gone.

His eyes dropped to the modified blaster resting on the console before him. He reached for it.

“I'll do it, Zordon,” Billy said, voice thin but resolute.

“No, Billy, it's too dangerous,” Alpha protested, his servos whirring in apprehension.

Zordon concurred. “I cannot abide your decision, Blue Ranger. This battle may prove too great a risk for you alone.”

“I have to go, my friends are in danger,” Billy said. He wasn't asking for permission.

There was a pause, akin to a deep sigh, before Zordon conceded. “Very well. Although it is against my better judgement, it may be the only way the save the Rangers. May the Power protect you, Blue Ranger.”

Fingers clenching around its handle, Billy lifted the modified blaster securely into his palms and stepped into the middle of the platform, already reaching for his Morpher. The Command Center blurred as the teleport engaged; a flash of blue and he was gone.

*****

Billy materialized on the slope of one of the park's many rolling hills, but his surroundings were almost unrecognizable: The familiar grassy meadows were drowned beneath a carpet of dark green, the red-brick pathways choked with crawling stems. Cocoons were strewn across the fields or hung from the branches of trees like obscene sleeping bags.

From afar, the Blue Ranger believed to espy a hint of colour between the interwoven twigs of one such cocoon's outer shell, and started in its direction. He pressed forward cautiously across the seemingly abandoned field, one eye scanning the distance for any sign the Creeper, the other fixed low on the treacherous ground as to avoid tripping over tangled roots.

He passed what might once have been a picnic table, now swallowed beneath beneath a thick layer of vegetation. He had only just moved beyond it when the greenery around him began to stir.

Leaves rustled. Stems and stalks twisted beneath his feet. And then, with a surge, the carpet erupted into a towering shape; a lone figure rising from an emerald ocean.

“What's this?” the Creeping Creeper taunted, its mouth pulling into a barbed smirk. “Another colourful little flower for me to nip in the bud?”

Up close, the monster was even uglier than the Viewing Globe had let on. Its vines retracted into arms that dangled slack at its sides. Its single milky-white eye, unblinking and unseeing, rolled in its head.

Billy pushed forward, the blaster cool and heavy in his hands. “Alright, you oversized shrub,” he shouted. “Prepare to be pruned!”

The Creeper growled, lashing a vine at him with unanticipated speed. Billy narrowly dodged the blow, leaping aside at the last second. He rolled into a crouching stance before he brought up his blaster and fired.

A shaft of light lanced through the nearest tendril, searing it mid-air. The shredded vine withered and browned, flaking into nothingness. No new ones grew to replace it.

“Alight, it worked!” Billy called, but his victory was not to last for long.

All of the sudden, the monster roared; an ear-splitting screech tearing into the sky as its main mass wriggled and writhed. The remaining tendrils erupted into a furious spasm, faster and angrier than before.

“You will pay for that, little blue blossom,” the Creeper shrieked, its voice a thousand leaves in one.

A vine lashed out in his direction and this time Billy was too slow to evade it. It caught him square in the chest with enough force to knock the blaster from his hand. The weapon clattered away onto the grass, just out of reach.

“No!” the Blue Ranger cried as he lunged for the device, but another of the Creeper's vines caught him and wrenched him upright.

“Time to branch out and crush you!” it yelled.

The vines climbed Billy's body, coiling tight around his torso with unnatural strength. Pain set in first, screaming through his chest as the pressure mounted, sharp and unrelenting. Then came panic, flaring hot in his throat as his lungs were compressed to the point of non-functionality, and the simple act of breathing became an impossible task.

Dark spots danced across his vision. He fumbled weakly for his communicator, but his fingers felt numb and clumsy. The darkness continued to swell, swallowing the world piece by piece. Billy's last coherent thought was a desperate hope that his friends would somehow make it out safely, before his world was pulled into shadow.

*****

Tommy landed just a few scant yards away from the action, boots skidding across the overgrown hillside.

He could see Billy tangled in the Creeper's grip. Further back were the others, still encased in their cocoon-like prisons, surrounded by vines in various states of decay.

Upon noticing the new arrival, the Creeper turned, its barbed mouth curling in annoyance.

“Hey!” it yelled in obvious dismay. “How many more of you meddling mites are there?”

“At least one too many for you to handle,” Tommy shot back. “When I'm done with you there'll be nothing left but kindling!”

“I think it's time for you to wilt, Green Ranger!”

The monster cast Billy aside like yellowing leaves discarded in the fall. The Blue Ranger fell, crumpling into an unmoving heap on the ground. Tommy's chest clenched with worry, but he had no time to check on his friend. His eyes found the fallen Blade Blaster glinting amid the grass.

Alpha's words echoed in his mind: His own weapon – resting reassuringly in the holster at his side – would be useless against this foe, only Billy's modification would work.

He dashed for the weapon, snatching it off the grass in a single graceful arc. He took aim at the monster's glaring white eye, and fired.

Bullseye.

The Creeper's eye shattered like glass, a plume of spectral mist dissipating into the air with a hiss. With an inhuman screech, the monster writhed and went up in a column of flames until nothing was left of its central mass but ash and smoke.

“Alright!” Tommy cheered.

All around him the vines slackened and turned to dust, releasing captives from their hold. Some people simply slumped free of their bindings while others tumbled unceremoniously from their woven prisons on high, groaning aloud as they hit the ground.

Across the field, Tommy noticed the other Rangers stirring, sitting up unsteadily, and scraping sticky green sap from their colourful suits.

All except one.

“Billy…” Tommy's voice dropped to a whisper as he sprinted across the clearing, towards the fallen form of his comrade in blue.

He dropped to his knees beside him, momentarily relieved by the steady rise and fall of his chest, but when he reached out and shook his shoulder, the Blue Ranger remained still.

“Billy, come on. You gotta wake up, man.”

“Tommy!” he turned around to see Kimberly cutting across the field towards him, her pink armour streaked with patches of green, her somewhat shaken stride lacking its usual sense of grace. “Tommy, are you alright?”

The Green Ranger smiled beneath his helmet, grateful to know his girlfriend was safe.

“Yeah, I'm fine. How about you guys?” he asked as the others arrived at a more sedate pace.

“We're okay,” Jason said.

“Just a bit sticky,” Trini added, the visor of her yellow helmet smeared with goo.

“Speak for yourself,” Zack muttered, tugging at the dark stains on his suit. “I am never getting this out.”

A chuckle rippled among them, but it faltered the instant their gazes shifted past Tommy to the figure on the ground on front of him. A gasp escaped the Pink Rangers mouth.

“What's wrong with Billy?” Zack asked, his voice tightening.

The Red Ranger crouched down, hand curling around the boy's shoulder with infinite care. “Billy?” he said softly, but there was no response. He turned to Tommy. “What happened?”

“I'm not sure, he collapsed when I got here.”

“Oh, you guys, this place is a mess,” Trini said, scanning the clearing. Tommy followed her gaze, concurring silently with her observation. Civilians were staggering to their feet all around them, calling out for loved ones, clinging to one another in confusion.

“We have to help them,” she pressed.

“You're right, Trini,” Jason agreed. He looked back at Tommy. “We'll take care of things here,” he said, his tone steady and commanding, features concealed behind the Red Ranger's visor. “You get Billy back to the Command Center.”

Tommy gave their leader a sharp nod, ignoring as usual the small sting of pride that came with following another alpha's orders. He slid his arm beneath Billy, securing him as the teleport sequence engaged. Glittering light enveloped them – emerald and sapphire – and they were gone.

Chapter Text

The two Rangers demorphed upon their arrival in the Command Center, the shimmer of colour fading to plain cloth and skin.

Billy hung limp in Tommy's arms, a dead weight – albeit an almost unnervingly light one – not stirring in the slightest even as Tommy adjusted the younger boy in his grip.

“Alpha, a little help over here!”

The little robot whirled around at the sound of the Green Ranger's voice, all but shrieking at the sight. “Ai-yi-yi! What happened?”

“I'm not sure. When that monster let go of him he just collapsed.”

The robot flitted away momentarily, muttering little noises of distress as he went, only to return a few seconds later with a medical gurney, which he rolled animatedly across the chamber.

“Quickly, put him on the stretcher.”

Tommy obeyed the robot's instruction, lowering Billy onto the padded frame before stepping back to give Alpha some room. He remembered uneasily the time – not so long ago – that he himself had lain there, battle-worn and fragile.

Alpha produced a handheld scanner from a nearby console and took Tommy's place by Billy's side, sweeping the device over the boy's unconscious form. The scanner hummed softly, its lights flickering, until after what felt like a small eternity, it finally gave a low beep.

Tommy leaned in, peering over a metallic golden shoulder as if to read the results on the scanner's too small screen.

“How is he, Alpha?” Tommy asked at last.

The robot hesitated. “Well… he doesn't appear to be injured.”

“Then what's wrong with him?”

“I am... unsure,” Alpha said, a strange lilt to his mechanical tone that Tommy didn't immediately know how to place. If it were anyone else, Tommy would think they were holding something back, omitting some piece of information if not lying outright. But surely not Alpha.

“His readings are within normal levels,” the robot continued and Tommy allowed himself a small, relieved breath, putting all doubt about the robot's intentions out of his mind until Alpha ruined it by adding. “For Billy, that is.”

And there it was again.

Tommy found himself frowning. It was the phrasing this time, the way Alpha had said it as if Billy's readings were somehow different than the rest's.

Tommy shook his head. He was probably just overthinking it.

“Will he be alright?”

“Yes,” Alpha said, his voice filled with a confidence that suggested everything before had just been a slip of tongue – did it still count as one if he didn't actually have a tongue? “He appears to simply be sleeping.”

“Alpha.” The Command Center resonated with Zordon's deep voice. “If Billy is no longer in need of your medical expertise, I would ask that you help coordinate the remaining Rangers with their rescue efforts.”

“Oh, of course, Zordon.”

Tommy turned towards the glowing tube. “Is there something I can do?

“No, it is not necessary,” the being replied, just a touch too quickly for Tommy's comfort. “The Rangers will be done soon, they need only be directed to the location of the last captured civilians. You should conserve your strength for when it is needed.”

Tommy nodded, carefully masking his wince. He hated being reminded of his failing powers, of the unspoken way Zordon didn't want him out in the field.

“Sending coordinates now,” Alpha said from the console, and Tommy strayed away, drifting closer to the stretcher and to his young friend thereon. He looked down at the boy and, after a moment, reached out and slipped the glasses from his sleeping face, tucking them aside so they wouldn't be damaged if Billy were to shift in his sleep. He deserved the rest.

Despite being the youngest of them all, it never ceased to amaze Tommy what the boy was capable of. And once again it had been Billy who had saved the day, who had single-handedly come through at the last second with a strategy and/or some new invention that would secure them victory against their foes. Billy was a hero... Everything Tommy was not.

He leaned forwards, closer to the stretcher, hands curling around its metal edges as he looked down at the unconscious omega, feeling, knowing that he had failed.

He sighed.

He should have been there sooner. It was his own fault for forgetting his communicator in his bag after training. And while the others were out protecting Angel Grove, he was safe and secure at the Youth Center with not a care in the world.

Maybe it was just as well that he wasn't a real part of the team anymore, because he was obviously terrible at it. He couldn't even keep his friends safe; the fact that it was the young omega who had had to pay the price for his incompetence was simply another blow to the adolescent alpha's already shaken confidence.

He would always let them down. Always late. Powers unstable. Unreliable. Just like him.

“You have done well, Green Ranger,” Zordon's voice sounded again and not for the first time Tommy wondered if the being was somehow able to hear his thoughts. Or maybe Tommy was just that predictable. “Without your aid, your friends would not have been able to escape unharmed.”

“Thanks, Zordon,” Tommy muttered, even though he didn't agree. If he had really done his job well, then Billy wouldn't have been lying on that stretcher in the first place.

He sighed again, shoulders hunching as he slumped in on himself over the sleeping figure.

Then his nose twitched.

He paused, and found himself frowning. He leaned in closer, breathing in once more. Deeper.

Something was different about Billy's scent.

As an alpha, Tommy was as well-acquainted with his friends' scents, even Zack and Trini's – the two betas on the team, who didn't have much of a scent to begin with and which only got pronounced when they worked up a serious sweat. But seeing as Rangering was hard business and he and his friends were all athletically-skilled, and teenagers to boot, serious sweats got worked up a lot.

It wasn't something Tommy consciously took notice of in his day-to-day, and he would be hard-pressed to actually describe any of their scents, with an exception, of course, for his girlfriend's own intoxicating floral aroma.

He tried to do so now, however, as curiosity gripped him, pushing him to lean in even closer, bringing his nose right up to the junction where Billy's shoulder met his neck, the boy's blond strands moving gently with the breeze as Tommy simply stood and breathed.

Ivory soap and a hint of copper, Tommy decided he would have to say if he was ever forced to put a name to that elusive ensemble of odours that was so distinctly Billy.

He breathed in another lungful, chasing a whiff of something that was just beyond his reach, something that was different than before. Though for the life of him, Tommy couldn't say what exactly.

It was nothing specific, not the sickly sour notes of illness, nor the molten-sugar sweetness of an oncoming heat. Just... something else.

It vexed his senses and the alpha could have probably spent a lot more time contemplating the issue in detail if that wasn't that exact moment that the others decided to return, teleporting back into the Command Center in a fragmented rainbow of yellow, black, red and pink.

At once Tommy shot up, pushing away from the stretcher with unnecessitated force, feeling like he'd been caught doing something inappropriate. Which he hadn't, though – admittedly – sniffing his unconscious omega friend wasn't exactly what his mother would call 'good-mannered' either.

At least no one called him out on it. The Red Ranger – demorphed now, as all others – did narrow his eyes at his friend's sudden, stumbling movement, but the momentarily tension was broken when a of wave of pink rushed past both of them, headed for the prone figure lying on the stretcher.

“Oh, Billy,” Kim exclaimed as she stopped by his side, reaching out gently to envelop the boy's limp hand in her own.

The rest of the group followed closely behind.

“Alpha, how is he?” came Jason's question.

“Billy will be fine, Rangers,” the robot replied from his spot by the console.

“Oh man, he's still out of it?” Zack spoke up, moving past Kimberly to stand on Billy's other side. “Must have been one hard hit to the head.”

“What's wrong with him?” Trini asked.

“He's not injured,” Tommy answered. “Alpha ran some tests. He says he's just sleeping.”

“Indeed,” Alpha agreed.

“Then how come he hasn't woken up yet?” Jason asked, an edge to the leader's voice that grated at Tommy's own alpha sensibilities, as if he was implying somehow that one of them was at fault.

Tommy tried not to read anything into it.

But apparently Alpha did. “Oh, uh...” the fidgety robot started, nervously wringing his metallic hands. “I... I am unsure-”

“It's alright, Alpha,” Zordon suddenly spoke up, his grave voice a balm to the dithering robot who calmed instantly. “Responsibility lies with me,” he continued, much to everyone's confusion. “In light of his condition, I had no intention of sending the Blue Ranger into battle. Know that I would not have done so if there had been any other choice.”

There was a brief moment of bewildered silence, then several voices spoke at once.

“His condition?”

“What do you mean, Zordon?”

“Yeah, you saying he's sick?”

“Is this about that flu he had last week?”

“Ai-yi-yi-yi-yi.”

Only one voice remained conspicuously quiet, the owner simply tightening her hold around the sleeping boy's hand.

“Calm yourselves, Rangers,” Zordon's voice rose above the tumult. “It is not my place to tell you more. But rest assured that Billy will be alright with time.”

There was bound to be more things said, but then a low groan emanated from their midst and the conversation was brought to a sudden halt.

Chapter Text

The first thing to greet Billy when he regained consciousness was the sensation of a pounding headache behind his eyes.

“Ow,” he muttered.

He started to push himself up with a groan, one hand coming up to cradle his aching head, the other clutching at the leathery-cool texture of whatever surface he was currently sitting on, attempting valiantly to keep himself upright as the room swayed dizzily around him.

The next thing to greet him was a blur of pink, followed by a high-pitched cry of “Billy!” and rounded off with a sudden and unexpected force hitting him vigorously from the side.

“Ow,” he repeated for good measure, though the words came out somewhat muffled, pressed as he was against a solid form, long-limbed appendages curling around him, squeezing him into a fierce and constricting embrace.

For a moment Billy had the strangest sense of déjà vu, along with an instinctual urge to fight off the appendages encircling him, but then – just as suddenly as they had appeared – the appendages let go.

Billy swayed unsteadily once more in the aftermath, catching himself on what felt like a a set of smooth-skinned shoulders.

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry,” the high-pitched voice continued. “It's just, you weren't awake and I was so worried and...”

The rambling words continued, but Billy wasn't paying attention. Instead, he pulled back, squinting at the speaking form before him until he believed to discern vaguely familiar features through his unfocussed eyes.

“Kim? Is that you?”

“Yes, yes, I'm here, you're okay,” the Kimberly-shaped blur replied effusively.

“Oh.” Well, at least that solved one mystery. “Where are the others-?” he started to wonder, just as the memories came rushing back. “The park!”

Billy shot up in his seat, intending to get up, but several hands reached out to stop him – many more than the mere two he distinctly remembered his best friend owning before.

“It's alright, we're all here, Billy,” a deep baritone said, just as a restraining hand came down to rest on his shoulder.

“Yeah, man, take it easy.”

“You shouldn't get up yet.”

He recognized the voices of his friends, but it had was hard to concentrate when he could not make them out against the blur of his surroundings. He let go of Kimberly, using his now freed hands to feel around his seat, searching for a way to fix his predicament.

“Has anyone seen my glasses?”

“Oh, right.”

There was a short shuffling sound and then a hand found his, turning it over and gently depositing a small weight in the middle of his palm.

“Here you go,” Tommy said, and for a moment the grip on Billy's shoulder tensed noticeably before falling away completely.

Billy slipped the glasses onto his face and the world came back into focus.

“Hi, guys,” he said awkwardly, realizing the entire team was standing around him. “So, uh, what happened?

“Man, we should be asking you that,” Zack said.

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” Jason joined in. “The last thing any of us remembers is getting trapped in those cocoons.”

“And getting slimed on,” Kim added helpfully.

Trini nodded. “When we woke up, you were unconscious, and the monster was gone.”

“It was destroyed?”

“Yes, Billy,” Alpha effused, coming up behind Zack and Trini. “Your idea worked!”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed, “if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have been able to deal with the Creeper at all.”

“The same goes for you, Tommy,” Jason argued. “If you hadn't showed up, we'd all be goners.”

“You are correct, Rangers,” Zordon spoke up. “Victory over Rita's latest creation was only possible due to the Blue and Green Ranger's combined efforts.”

Billy and Tommy shared a short look, both boys smiling modestly before turning their heads away in embarrassment.

Tommy coughed. “But man, what happened? One minute the monster had you, the next you were out cold.”

“You really had us worried,” Trini said, leaning forward to give his wrist a single, comforting squeeze before pulling away again.

Billy shrugged awkwardly. “I'm sorry, guys, I didn't mean to worry you.”

“That's okay,” Kim said, wringing her hands as if she was trying to force herself not to reach out to him again. “Just as long as you promise not to do it again.”

“Uh, I'll try.”

Several of his friends smiled. Jason did not.

“How are you feeling now?” their leader asked.

Billy took a moment to take stock of his body's state before replying. He was feeling tired and nauseous, but both of those things had become his new normal in the past few weeks. There was some light-headedness too, but at least his headache had abated enough to no longer be a problem.

“Still a bit dizzy,” was all he said in the end.

“On the topic,” Zack commented, forcing the segue, “what was that about anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were out of it for a while, man.”

“Yeah,” Tommy concurred. “Zordon mentioned something about a condition.”

“You're not still sick, are you?” Trini inquired.

Once again, Kim's voice was missing from the fray. So was Jason's. Not that Billy had noticed.

He was too busy turning to the glowing tube on the other side of the room, betrayed. “You told them?!”

Ignoring Alpha's lament of “Ai-yi-yi” in the background, Zordon spoke.

“I said only what was necessary as I did not wish to lie to them,” he started. “For that I apologize. However, I do not believe it is advisable to keep matters of your health a secret from the others, especially when considerations will have to be made soon concerning the future of your role within the team.”

Tense silence followed their mentor's declaration, and Billy breathed an aggrieved sigh.

Zordon was practically forcing him to come clean.

He risked a quick glance towards the others, noting features marked with varying degrees of confusion and concern.

“Your role in the team?” Jason asked, the first to break the silence. “What's he talking about?”

Billy let his gaze fall back to the floor, defeated. He didn't answer. He didn't know how.

It had been one thing to tell Kimberly about his situation; they'd been friends since practically forever and deep down he'd known that she'd be on his side no matter what. It had also helped that she was a fellow omega and thus more likely to grasp the intricacies of his situation without Billy being required to articulate them in detail.

But the others? He didn't know how they'd react. What if they saw him differently because of this? Billy didn't think that a teenage pregnancy was something any of them thought they'd ever have to deal with, and certainly not because of him. He was supposed to be the responsible one, the careful one. Billy the Brain. This wasn't supposed to be the kind of mistake he made.

He'd imagined his friends' reactions hundreds of times over the past week: The pity, the disappointment, the disgust. They'd look at him and see nothing more than a mistake.

What if they no longer wanted to be his friends? And if that happened… how could he still be part of the team?

He wasn't as strong as the others; he was already the weakest member of the team, he knew that. He didn't have Kimberly's grace, or Jason's strength, Zack's courage, Trini's fearlessness, or Tommy's determination. He was just… Billy. The boy who tripped over his own feet in Kimberly's aerobics class, who couldn't keep up with the guys in sparring practice, who preferred the company of numbers and calculations over people sometimes because at least equations never laughed at him when he failed.

He'd been compensating for that his whole life – with his wit, his knowledge, his inventions. The Power Rangers relied on him for his intellect, for the gadgets and the solutions that carried them through battles when brute force didn't cut it. And he had told himself, over and over, that this made him just as important as the others. That he had earned his place among them.

But what if that was no longer enough?

If he couldn't be out there fighting with them, if his condition only slowed them down... What good would he be then? Would they still want him there? Or would they decide he was expendable, that the Blue Ranger could be replaced with someone stronger, faster, more reliable, more capable… Just more than him.

And if that happened... what would he have left?

“Billy?”

He'd apparently been quiet for too long, because Kimberly spoke his name softly. She reached forward, slipping her hand into his, much as she had the other day in his workshop. “It's okay.”

“Yeah, man, whatever it is, you can tell us,” Zack said brightly, earning him an elbow in the ribs from the girl next to him. “What?” he whispered, baffled.

Trini categorically ignored the question, turning back to Billy instead. “Of course we'll listen, but you don't have to say anything if you don't want to,” she told him, then glanced sharply at the others. “Right guys?”

Zack, for his part, looked confused at the admonishment, but Jason and Tommy picked up on her meaning quickly enough.

“Yeah, we didn't mean to put you on the spot like that,” Tommy assured him.

Jason nodded, his tone firm. “Trini's right. No matter what Zordon says-” and that was probably the single most mutinous sentence Billy had ever heard the Red Ranger utter, normally a steadfast supporter of everything their mentor said and did, “-we're not going to pressure you into saying anything you're not ready for.”

“Oh yeah, course not, man,” Zack amended, following the other's lead, if somewhat belatedly. “Secrets are cool too.”

Trini's glare at him intensified.

Billy let out another sigh. He had known that he was going to have to face this situation eventually. Perhaps it would be better to just get it over with.

He raised his gaze, catching the shy little smile Kim was sending his way. He couldn't bring himself to return it, so he settled for squeezing her hand gently before scooting to the edge of the cot, increasing the distance between himself and the others as much as their cramped configuration allowed. He felt like he was going to need it.

“No,” Billy started, his dread colouring the word in all the different hues of melancholy. “Zordon's right.”

It wasn't just about him, his situation affected the Power Rangers as well. He owed it to them to explain everything, he owed them the truth. And he'd abide by whatever fate that truth earned him.

“I really do need to talk to you guys about something. It's just... It's difficult,” he finished, his gaze dropping on its own.

“Hey, don't force yourself, man,” Tommy said gently. “It's been a long day. We get it if you don't want to do this right now.”

“Why don't you tell us tomorrow?” Trini suggested.

“That's a great idea,” Kim chimed in, her tone just that slightest bit too bright. “We can all get together, for – oh, I don't know – how about a picnic in the park?” she finished with exaggerated innocence.

Once more, Billy caught her look. He knew what she was doing. This had been her plan all along. But it looked like the others hadn't caught onto her act.

“That works for me,” Zack agreed easily.

“Yeah, it's Saturday,” Tommy agreed with a shrug, “I've got nothing else going on.”

Jason's gaze remained fixed on Billy. “Billy, that okay with you?”

“Sure,” he said quietly.

“Great,” Kim said cheerfully, as if they were really planning nothing more than a picnic in the park. “Say about noon-ish?”

A round of nods sealed the plan.

Trini clapped her hands together. “Then, we should all get going.”

A low murmur of consent rippled through their closed ranks, and Billy started to get up, carefully pushing himself up from the cot and steadying himself on its edges as he stood, just in case the world decided to suddenly tilt again.

He thought he'd done a decent job concealing just how shaky he still felt, right up until the moment Jason turned to him and asked “You okay with getting home on your own, man?”

He bit back yet another sigh, resenting how it was always Jason, of all people, who was there to witness his weakness. He nodded stiffly in reply, avoiding the boy's gaze. “I'll be fine.”

“Okay, we'll be going then,” Kimberly suddenly announced. She slipped past the others to Tommy, seizing his hand and tugging him along back towards the central platform, her bright energy bulldozing through any lingering awkwardness in the air. “'Cause, I don't know about you guys, but I wasn't planning on spending my Friday afternoon cooped up in the Command Center. No offense, Alpha.”

“None taken,” came the cheerful reply.

“Uh, right,” Tommy said, stumbling after her. “Guess we'll see you guys tomorrow.”

As Trini passed Billy on her way to join the others, her hand brushed his arm in a gentle squeeze. “Feel better, Billy.”

Zack followed, tossing a casual wave over his shoulder.

“Jase, you coming?” Kim asked, once the others had joined them on the platform, the pointed words tinged with false nonchalance

“Yeah, sure.” Jason lingered a moment longer in Billy's vicinity before finally moving to catch up. He paused on his way just long enough to add, “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” Billy murmured as they parted ways, his friends vanishing one by one in streaks of coloured light.

When the chamber finally fell silent, Billy allowed himself a moment to breathe. He was grateful for Kimberly's intervention, and for the reprieve one more day would grant him.

And besides, he thought to himself, dread pooling in his stomach at the notion, there was someone else he needed to tell first.

Chapter Text

Billy entered the living room that evening, moving with the slow and heavy steps of a lamb that was fully aware that slaughter awaited him at his destination.

He'd been dreading the conversation all afternoon.

He had planned to bring it up during dinner, but kept postponing, nerves frayed and anxiety gnawing at him. Now, he found, he could not put it off any longer.

“Mom, Dad… can I talk to you about something?”

On the couch, a woman in a navy-blue blazer turned toward the sound of his voice, her wheat-blond hair (so similar to Billy's own) billowing slightly at the motion.

“Of course, sweetie,” Linda Cranston said, setting down her knitting beside her on the cream-coloured couch, turning her attention toward her teenage son.

“You didn't take your mother's vacuum cleaner apart again, did you?” his father asked from his armchair, his eyes dancing mirthfully behind a set of thick-rimmed glasses as he glanced at his son over the top of a newspaper.

Billy shook his head lightly at the familiar joke. His father never missed a chance to tease him about the incident, never mind that it had only happened once, nearly ten years ago. At least the appliance had still been functional afterwards... More or less.

But Billy wasn't in the mood for jesting.

“It's nothing like that,” he said, sinking into the empty space on the couch next to his mother. This was a sit-down kind of topic.

“Gordon, this sounds serious, could you please put down your newspaper?” Linda Cranston told her husband, who did so with a huff.

“Alright, alright, where's the fire?”

“There's no fire,” Billy replied dutifully. After all, fire safety was an important and often revisited topic in the Cranston household due to past... experiences. But there were no fires this time, unless one were to include the flaming dumpster fire that was Billy's life. No literal fires, at the very least. “There's merely something that I wish to discuss with you in regards to an event that occurred several weeks ago.”

“Did something happen, honey?”

“Weeks ago?” his father interjected, providing Billy with the easier question to address than that of his mother.

“Six to be exact.” He shifted in his seat. “As you might remember, there had been another monster attack on the city at the time,” he said, certain that his parents had seen it on the news when Rita had made her monster grow to, well, monstrous heights and sent it on a rampage through Angel Grove's business district in broad daylight.

For the first time ever Billy found himself glad that the evil empress lacked any form of subtlety in her attacks, for without the news coverage of the monster's exploits Billy had no doubt that his story would be found quite unbelievable.

“Oh, right,” Gordon said. “What had the news anchor called it? The Forget-Me-Not?”

“Amnesior,” Billy corrected automatically, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself.

“Yes, yes, something like that,” the man dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“What is this about?” his mother asked.

“Well, as the name would suggest, the monster had memory-altering capabilities and in its colossal form, it had a low-level effect over much of the city,” Billy explained, knowing that that much had been reported publicly. “A significant number of students at our school were impacted as well.”

The words weren't a lie as much as they were an exaggeration – a subtle but crucial distinction that Billy clung to. Honesty was important to him and he had no wish to deceive his parents beyond what was necessary to keep the truth of his identity concealed.

Because, of course, Rita's monster had only targeted the Power Rangers directly, but there had been some residual effects on bystanders as well, who had suffered solely due to their unknown proximity to the superhero group. The effects hadn't been as severe as those Billy and his friends had suffered, certainly, but enough for Bulk and Skull to wander into class once halfway through the day claiming they'd “forgotten” how to get there. Miss Appleby had been unimpressed by that story. Mr. Kaplan even less so.

“Your school?” his father asked, surprised and confused.

“Affirmative. Apparently there were rumours of sightings of the monster in that general area in the days precipitating its large-scale attack on the city.”

Again, Billy had Bulk and Skull to thank for that convenient little half-truth.

“Well, that's certainly odd. The school didn't say anything about this.” Gordon turned to his wife. “Did they, darling?”

Linda shook her head thoughtfully.

Billy offered a deliberate shrug. “Nobody really paid attention to the rumours until after the monster attacked, at which point they were no longer possible to substantiate.”

A short lull followed as both parents seemed to turn the matter over in their minds. Then his mother's expression cleared with recognition.

“Oh, of course, now I remember,” she said at last, nodding gravely. She shot her husband a look that Billy couldn't interpret. And, judging by his expression, neither could his father.

“You know, six weeks ago?” she prompted.

The man simply blinked at her.

“Gordon, surely you remember,” she pressed, her tone edged with meaning. “You and Billy had that talk.”

The words were vague, but apparently sufficient, because his father's lips pressed into a thin line, and he shifted in his armchair uncomfortably.

“Oh... Oh yes,” he said, voice tight. “We did have that talk.”

Now it was Billy's turn to blink. “Talk? What talk?”

“The just-say-no talk,” his mother reminded him gently.

“...About drugs?” Billy's bafflement only deepened.

His father coughed into his fist. “Yes, well, you have to understand that we were concerned, your mother and I. At the time you'd become so forgetful and it was starting to impact your schoolwork. We thought perhaps-”

“You thought I was taking drugs?!” Billy finished for him, his voice cracking on a mix of disbelief and indignation. Because, of course – of course! – his parents would leap to the conclusion that a temporary decline in cognitive performance and the resulting scholastic shortcomings thereof must be the result of narcotic consumption, rather than the vastly more plausible explanation that it was a direct byproduct of external, monster-related interference. After all, why consider giant, rampaging alien creatures when the simpler, far more scandalous explanation is that their own son was dabbling in illegal substances behind their backs? How typical of the parental generation.

“Oh, sweetheart, not seriously,” Linda soothed, giving her husband a pointed look as thought to suggest that someone might have been entertaining the idea a bit too seriously. “Your father just needed to make sure, right Gordon?

The man cleared his throat. “Right.”

Billy sat in silence for a moment, still perturbed that his parents would think so poorly of him. Besides, their concerns had hardly been necessary; his school had already brought in Officer Stone from the Angel Grove Police Department earlier that year to deliver the standard D.A.R.E. lecture. The program had covered the subject of substance abuse with what Billy considered exhaustive, if not excessive, thoroughness.

“Look.” His mother scooted closer, voice softening as it always did when her son was upset. “The fact that you don't even remember us talking about it shows how bad it was at the time. We just wanted to make sure there wasn't anything more serious going on.”

“Exactly,” his father said firmly, his voice ringing with forced finality. “In any case, I'm glad we finally cleared that up, and that there's nothing more to worry about,” he finished, already reaching for the earlier-discarded newspaper.

Billy felt himself wince. If only that were true.

“But, honey,” his mother went on gently, “that was almost two months ago. What made you bring it up now?”

Billy swallowed. “I, uh, I found out something... That is to say, it has recently come to my attention that something happened, that something must have happened during that time, and which... which I have no memory of,” he explained haltingly.

He must have rehearsed the words in his head more than a dozen times since that afternoon, but it didn't make it any easier to actually speak them out loud. He took a shaky breath and lifted his gaze toward his parents, bracing himself for the fallout.

“See… I had my last heat at the time, and I'm, uhm... I'm pregnant,” he finished, his voice dropping to little more than a whisper.

“You're what?” Linda breathed.

“WHAT?!” his father bellowed, the newspaper slipping from his hands and smacking against the floor.

“Gordon, hush,” Linda snapped, reaching for her son's hand. “Honey, are you absolutely sure? Why do you think you're pregnant?”

“Oh, uh... I asked Kimberly to buy me a pregnancy test at the pharmacy,” he said, recalling more of the words he'd rehearsed for this conversation. There were no half-truths to be told this time, and he really hated lying to his mother like this, but it wasn't like he could tell her he'd used interdimensional technology to ascertain his current condition. “And… it was positive.”

Silence fell over the living room, heavy and suffocating.

Then his father asked in a low and dangerous tone, “Who was it?”

“I don't know.”

“What do you mean, you don't know?”

“That's just it,” Billy whispered, shame creeping up his neck. “I can't remember anything.”

His father stood abruptly, dragging a hand over his slowly receding hairline.

“Oh- oh, sweetheart,” his mother gasped, her own voice catching. “Are you safe?”

“I'll tell you who it was,” Gordon cut in, his voice rising. “I bet it was that new alpha boy he's been hanging around with. Just wait till I get my hands on that Tommy Oliver-”

“Oh, Gordon, would you quiet down?” Linda snapped once more. “Tommy is a very nice boy. And besides, he's together with the Hart girl. I'm sure he had nothing to do with this.”

“Well, he says he doesn't know,” Gordon shot back, incredulous, gesturing toward his son hunching in on himself on the couch. “Which is certainly convenient if he's trying to protect one of his friends.”

His mother's hand tightened around his own. “Do you hear yourself? Accusing his friends like that? He just told you he doesn't remember.”

The man threw up his hands. “And you believe that?”

“Gordon!” The look his wife shot him could have cut glass.

She turned to her son, voice firm. “Billy, why don't you go to your room for a bit while I talk to your father?”

Billy hesitated momentarily, but the weight in his mother's voice left no room for negotiation. He rose stiffly from the couch, eyes fixed on the carpet as he moved toward the stairs.

For the next minute all he heard was the sound of his own footsteps, thudding dully against the stairs, each one echoing heavier than the last. On the upstairs landing, Billy hesitated, hand trembling faintly against the doorknob of his room, listening as the sounds of his parents' argument drifted up to him.

“-calm down?!” his father was yelling. “Our fifteen year-old son is pregnant, Linda. Pregnant! And you want me to calm down? Somebody's responsible for this. Somebody out there took advantage of our boy, and you want me to just sit here?”

“I want you to think before you go charging off to string up the nearest suspect,” he heard his mother shoot back. “Do you honestly believe Billy would lie about not remembering? You know that boy, he couldn't lie to save his life.”

Billy slumped weakly against the doorframe, pressing his forehead to the wood. He felt wretched. The twisting ache in his stomach was hard to name, but it felt an awful lot like guilt.

Then again, it could just be the nausea.

He tuned back into the ongoing conversation.

“-how is it going to look?” his father was saying. “What will the other parents say when they find out our teenage boy got himself pregnant? What in the hell are we going to tell the school?”

“And since when does keeping up appearances mean more to you than your son? He's been keeping this all to himself and the moment he trusts us with it, all his father can think to do is yell at him. What our boy needs right now is support, stability. Not you stomping around like a caveman looking for someone to blame.”

“But-”

“No buts. This isn't about what we feel, it's about him. He's scared, Gordon. He doesn't need you making this harder-”

The words cut off as Billy entered his room and pulled the door closed behind him, putting a deliberate stop to his eavesdropping ways.

He crossed over to his bed and sat down, reaching for his backpack to take out his history book. He had an assignment due next week and it was never too early to start on homework.

It was only when he realized he'd already read the same paragraph four times that Billy put the book down.

His could still hear his parents arguing downstairs.

He picked the book up again. The passage he'd been reading wasn't even on the correct page.

He put the book away.

This was not how he had wanted the conversation to go, he thought, slumping forward against his pillow in a miserable huff.

He had planned it out perfectly, rehearsed it to perfection, how he would break the news to his parents in a calm, factual manner, like presenting a science project at school. Just the data, no emotion.

But reality had never been that tidy, and now the whole thing was a mess.

Billy groaned weakly into the pillow.

This wasn't something he should be worried about at his age. He was fifteen; his only worries should be about getting accepted into the Young Scientists of America program, not making a fool of himself in front of certain individuals at school, and defending Angel Grove from attacks by robot goats and giant anthropomorphic sea creatures. You know, normal teenager stuff.

Instead, here he was, pregnant at fifteen with no idea how it happened or who the father could be, trying to hold himself together while his parents argued downstairs about what the neighbours might say.

Billy sat up and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to push back the heat gathering there.

He hated crying – it was inefficient, messy, and served no functional purpose beyond temporarily lowering cortisol levels. But his chest ached like it was being crushed from the inside, and he curled in on himself, pulling his knees up as though he could make himself disappear into the smallest possible shape. His breath hitched, uneven and shaky.

His mother found him like that a few minutes later: huddled against his pillow, tears carving silent tracks down his face.

“Billy?” she called, her head poking into his room. He must have missed her knocking.

His mother slipped inside, closing the door softly behind her. She came to sit beside him on the bed and, without a word, rested her hand lightly on his back.

The silence stretched, expectantly, until Billy could no longer stand it. “I'm sorry,” he said, voice muffled against the pillow. “I didn't mean for any of this to happen.”

“It's okay, sweetheart. I know you didn't.”

He shook his head. “I don't know how to fix this.”

“Oh, honey.” She pulled him against her, letting him bury his face in her shoulder. “It's going to be alright, you'll see.”

That was all it took. His chest heaved as new tears broke loose, spilling hot and unrelenting across his cheeks. His mother held him through it, rubbing slow circles into his back, murmuring wordless comforts.

After a while, when the worst of it ebbed, he whispered, raw and uncertain:

“…Is Dad still angry?”

His mother sighed. “Your father's not angry,” she said gently, easing back just enough to meet his eyes, though her hand never stopped its ministrations. “He's upset, and confused, and... alright, maybe a little angry too,” she admitted, “but only at himself, for not being able to protect his baby boy from a situation like this.”

“It's not his fault.”

“Maybe not, but if everything you've told us is true, then it wasn't your fault either.” She fixed him with a stern look, but the small smile tugging at the edges of her lips undercut the pretense of feigned austerity that her words had carried. “It's alright, I know you wouldn't lie to your mother like that.”

It took a great deal of inner strength for Billy not to squirm at the words – likely the very reaction she'd been aiming for – but he was certain that giving in would do nothing to help his case, nor convince his mother of his honesty... Dishonest though it may be.

He shook the thought off and rubbed a hand across his nose. “I don't know what to do,” he admitted, voice cracking. “I mean, what about school?”

“We'll figure something out,” his mother promised, her tone gentle but steady. She smoothed a hand over his hair, then down his back. “You're not alone in this, William. As your parents it is our duty and our privilege to take care of you. And you've got your friends too.”

Billy's gaze dropped to his lap. “Only Kimberly knows. I… haven't told the others yet. I will tomorrow.”

His mother hummed thoughtfully. “I think that's a good idea. They'll want to know.”

He nodded weakly. Kimberly had said the same thing.

“And who knows,” she added softly, “maybe they can help clear up the situation.”

Billy frowned, looking up to his mother.

She gave him an apologetic look in turn. “Not to give any credence to the things your father said, but is it really so improbable to assume that you could have been with one of your friends? I mean, they're all very handsome young boys.”

Yes. It was improbable, Billy thought to himself. Not only improbable, but implausible, outlandish, bordering on downright inconceivable. Because his mother was right: His friends were handsome. More than just handsome. They were incredible. Tommy, with his easy charisma and the way he always went out of his way to make everyone feel included. Zack, whose effortless humour could brighten even the darkest day. Kim, radiant in both beauty and kindness. Trini, thoughtful and steady, with quiet wisdom beyond her years... And Jason, whose strength was matched only by his unwavering sense of righteousness and compassion.

Billy knew he didn't compare.

What could any of them possibly see in him? The answer was obvious. Nothing. They wouldn't look at him that way, not in a million years. And even if by some unimaginable, absurd twist of fate one of them had, the memory was gone now. Swallowed up by the blank stretch of time that nobody could account for.

It made made the whole thing laughable, really. Painful, but laughable.

Billy simply shook his head at the notion, deigning to give it as little consideration as it deserved.

“Doubtful,” he told his mother with a weary sigh. “And they wouldn't remember it anyway.”

His mother pressed her lips together and gave his hand a gentle pat. “Well, that's not what's important right now. What matters is that you're safe and healthy.”

She smoothed her thumb across his knuckles before continuing, calm and practical. “And the first thing we'll do is get you seen by someone. I've got a friend who works at a lovely omegan clinic downtown. I'll call Monday to make an appointment, but it will probably take a week or two.”

Billy nodded faintly, relief and dread mingling in his chest at the idea.

“In the meantime,” she went on, “I think we can all calm down. It's been an exciting evening, and we could all use some rest.” She brushed her hand across his tear-stained cheeks, thumbs rubbing at the salt-crusted skin. “Some of us more than others.”

Billy managed a half-hearted smile for his mother as she bent and kissed the crown of his head.

“Don't worry about it,” she told him. “It will be alright. I promise.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Love you, sweetheart. Have a good night. Sleep well.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

Chapter Text

It was Saturday and the summer sun was beating down hard on Angel Grove Park, the cloudless sky stretching wide and boundless above.

It was already nearing midday when Jason arrived – the last one there. Well, except for Tommy, of course. But then, Tommy being late surprised just about no one.

Jason himself had got off to a late start that morning. He'd spent most of the night unable to sleep, tossing and turning in his bed, his mind suffused with thoughts on Billy... On the situation around Billy, that was.

Then, when sleep finally had come, it had brought him no peace, and was riddled instead with the same kind of dreams that had been plaguing him for the past several weeks.

As a result, he overslept, waking groggy and frustrated. To make matters worse, he hadn't even had time to… deal with the lingering after-effects of those dreams as his dad had already been waiting on him downstairs to make good on his promise to help him in the garden that morning. So, Jason had opted for a cold shower – an all too frequent occurrence as of late – and then yard work had kept his mind duly occupied until it was time to meet the others.

He was walking down one of the park's many red-bricked walkways when a call made him turn.

“Jase!”

Two pairs of arms, clad in yellow and black respectively, were waving at him from a nearby spot, and it was a testament to the boy's preoccupation that he had not noticed them sooner. Jason adjusted his course and started moving in their direction.

The group was seated on a large, red-and-white chequered picnic blanket located beneath a tree... One that reminded Jason suspiciously of a tree they'd been held captive in the day before while in the Creeper's grasp. But as he stepped into its shade, he shook the thought off, choosing to simply be grateful for the cool respite it offered against the blazing sun this day.

A familiar voice spoke up as he neared. “Man, you gotta try this,” it said (or tried to say, at any rate) around a mouthful of what had probably been some kind of pastry once. Then the speaker proceeded to shove the rest of it between his teeth.

Jason grimaced. “Gorgeous, Zack.” He turned to the others with a nod. “Hey.”

Trini, Kim, and Billy echoed the greeting in turn. The latter sat hunched over his paper plate, idly picking at the edges of a sandwich. He looked better than he had the day before, his pallor closer to its usual shade of Billy-normal.

As if feeling eyes on him, the boy glanced up. Their eyes met for the briefest moment before Jason dropped his gaze, guiltily.

“Did Tommy say when he wanted to get here?” he asked, shifting toward the girls.

Kim shrugged. “Oh, you know how he is.”

Jason exhaled. “Yeah.” He knew all too well.

“In the meantime,” Kim continued cheerfully, “we've got water and lemonade, potato salad, egg sandwiches and-”

“And these,” Trini finished brightly, holding up plate of the same pastries Zack was still happily gorging himself on.

“We learned how to make them in my gourmet cooking class,” she added, and Jason's hand, already halfway to the plate, suddenly halted mid-air.

He remembered vividly the last time she'd brought them something from her class. He sincerely hoped that today's menu had veered away from exotic French recipes though.

Jason was saved from having to decide on whether or not to risk actually trying one of the mystery pastries when a new voice called out, “Hey guys, sorry I'm late.”

He glanced up at Tommy, mildly surprised. His arrival was actually timely for a change.

“I also brought dessert,” the boy added after a beat.

The girls exchanged a look, which had Jason smirking behind his hand. There was a reason he hadn't brought anything to today's outing. And neither had Zack, nor Billy, for that matter. And that reason was the semi-official Picnic Planning Committee, run by Trini and Kim. This wasn't their first rodeo, and they had made it perfectly clear they didn't need any help, least of all from the guys, when it came to preparing food for their outings.

Oh, he'd offered before – never let it be said that Jason Scott wasn't a gentleman – but the girls had turned him down, hard. No men allowed in the sacred circle of picnic planning apparently.

Only, it looked like Tommy hadn't gotten the memo.

But then the boy hoisted up a tin of brownies, earning him a round of intrigued noises all around, and Jason's smirk promptly faltered.

“They're freshly baked,” Tommy announced, passing the tin to Kim, who's eyes lit up at the sight.

“They're still warm,” she whispered theatrically, grinning over at Trini.

Perfect. Looked like the committee just gained a new member. Even Billy leaned in with interest.

Jason sighed inwardly. Talk about scoring brownie points.

“Don't worry,” Tommy added quickly, catching (and misreading) Jason's wary expression. “I didn't make them. My mom baked a couple batches for a charity bake-sale, and she told me I could bring some along.”

Jason forced a smile onto his face. “That's great.”

Tommy smiled back.

“So,” Zack spoke up, his own easy smile – whether knowingly or not – cutting through the lingering tension. “Not that I would ever complain about dessert getting this much love,” he continued, and being the group's most notorious sweet-tooth, no one doubted him, “but now that we're all here... How long are we gonna keep up the act before Billy says his part?”

The chatter fell silent at this, the thin veneer of normalcy breaking. Billy froze, his fingers stilling on his sandwich.

“I hate to say it, but I think Zack has a point,” Trini remarked. The boy's indignant “Hey!” was collectively ignored.

“Yeah, you're right,” Kim agreed, turning to Billy. “We're all just dying to know what this is about,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes a great deal more than the situation necessitated.

Jason wondered what that was about.

The boy in blue set his plate down with a sigh, his sandwich virtually untouched but for the ruined crust that had been massacred into crumbs by nervously fidgeting fingers.

“I suppose I've put off this conversation long enough,” Billy admitted, his gaze skirting toward the picnic basket at his side. “But in order for any of it to make sense, I'll have to begin with what transpired approximately six weeks ago,” he said.

And then he started to explain.

*****

Jason – just like the rest of the group – sat very still as Billy spoke, listening as the boy spun his tale haltingly at first, but gaining momentum as he went on. Yet while his friends hung on to every spoken word, Jason was ashamed to admit that he only caught fragments of the story himself, his mind slipping in and out of focus, distracted by the way a single word seemed to reverberate though his consciousness, ringing out like a bell and drowning out everything else.

At least he wasn't the only one having trouble.

“Waoh, woah, woah, time out,” Zack blurted, holding up his hands in the titular 'T' shape. “Just... did you say you were pregnant?”

“Affirmative,” the boy replied, timid but steady.

“Like, pregnant with a baby?” Zack pressed.

Billy blinked. “That is the general implication, yes.”

The boy in black exhaled and slumped back onto the blanket. “Oh man, I was not expecting this. This is big.”

“Actually, it's currently about the size of a lentil,” Billy corrected, seeming unable to help himself.

It earned him a look. “You know that's not what I mean.”

“I know,” Billy murmured, a grimace tugging at his lips. He sighed. “Look, I didn't mean to keep it a secret from you guys, but it's been rather overwhelming trying to process everything on top of wondering how it's going to impact my efficiency as a Power Ranger-”

“Your efficiency as a Ranger?!” Trini cut in, appalled. “Billy, that's not what's important here. Jase, tell him.”

It took Jason a moment to pick up on the cue. He blinked, caught off guard at being called on to speak, but as team leader he knew it was his duty to hold it together. So, he forced his mind into the present and responded, “Yeah, this is bigger than the Rangers, man. A lot bigger.”

And it was. Big barely covered it. Actually, it was huge.

Billy was pregnant.

Yet for some reason, even though the word was right there, it failed to sink in properly, simply resounding in Jason's head, bouncing off the edges of his mind like a stray ping-pong ball.

It didn't make sense.

Pregnant? How could he be pregnant?

Granted, the boy was an omega, so physiologically Jason knew it was possible, but that didn't change anything about the fact that this was Billy they were talking about. And he wasn't about that. He was all about science and circuits and logic. The boy blushed if someone so much as mentioned the word “dating” in his vicinity, and now he was supposed to be pregnant? Jason's brain grasped for logic and came up empty.

But beneath the confusion, there was something else twisting inside Jason's chest. There was concern, for sure, and guilt for failing to keep his friend and teammate safe from such a situation, which Jason knew he'd have to deal with in his own time.

But there was something else too, a flicker of a feeling that coiled deep within him, hot and sharp, all the way down to his stomach. A feeling that felt an awful lot like jealousy.

Because Jason had spent months trying to get closer to Billy. With small touches that lingered just a bit too long, subtle glances that he'd hoped the boy would catch, little excuses to sit together, walk together, train together, anything he could come up with to spend more time with him.

And he'd tried to get a read on the omega's feelings on the subject, but he could never tell if his intentions had gotten through. Billy would accept his invitations just as often as he'd turn them down. He was polite, friendly, even warm at times, but completely unreadable. Jason never knew if Billy was simply oblivious or just not interested, and, admittedly, that uncertainty had eaten at him at times.

And now, it seemed, he was too late.

Because suddenly, someone else had stepped in, had gotten close, closer than Jason ever had, a lot closer. Close enough to make this kind of thing happen. The thought made Jason's stomach turn and left a sour taste in his mouth.

A hot rush of frustration and helplessness coursed through him, fighting off the icy grip of shock that had been threatening to take hold of him ever since Billy had dropped the revelation. The two sensations waged a silent war inside him, leaving Jason a jangled mess of hot and cold and numb and hollow.

He tried to shake it off, to pull his focus back to the conversation at hand, which – when he finally succeeded to do so – he realized had already moved on. Voices blurred for a moment before he was able to make one out as belonging to the boy in question, who was speaking once more.

“-didn't plan for any of this,” Billy was saying, his shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on the ground. “I don't even know how it happened. I just… I didn't want you all to see me as a liability.”

A new ache unfurled in Jason's chest (as if there was space for any more) at the sound of his friend – of sweet, innocent, brilliant Billy – sounding so small and insecure. So totally and utterly lost.

There were a dozen things Jason wanted to say – words of comfort and reassurance mostly – but none of them were able to make it past the tightness of his throat.

“You're not a liability, Billy,” Tommy said in his stead.

And Jason should have been grateful, should have been relieved that someone said what he couldn't. But instead of relief, there was that feeling again, that sharp and irrational pang of... not anger, not really, but envy, bitter and unbidden, curling in the spaces between his ribs. Because Tommy had always been better at this, at saying the right thing, at reaching out to people.

And right now, it was Tommy's voice Billy turned toward, not his.

“You're one of us. We're a team.”

“Tommy's right,” Kim said, shifting forward to reach for Billy’s hand. Her voice was soft but firm, and full of gentle conviction. “We're talking about you, Billy. Not your combat efficiency or your... contribution quotient to the value of the team or whatever spreadsheet you've currently got running in your head,” she continued with a knowing look. “You're our friend. And that's what matters.”

“Exactly,” Trini joined in, scooting closer to Billy and taking hold of his arm from the other side. “You don't have to go through this by yourself. Whatever this means, for you and for the team, we'll figure it out together.”

“Yeah, Blue,” Zack agreed, leaning forward with an easy grin, “we'll always have your back, no matter what.”

Billy's lips curved into a small, wobbly smile of his own. “Thanks, guys. This really means a lot to me.” He reached up to squeeze Trini's hand, gratitude flickering across his face.

For a moment, the group fell into a comfortable and companionable silence. The tension that had hung heavy since Billy's confession seemed to ease, replaced instead by a quiet understanding.

Then Tommy suddenly snapped his fingers. “So that's what that was about,” he muttered to himself, causing the others to turn and look at him in near-perfect unison.

“Oh, uh.” The alpha blinked, likely realizing a beat too late that he'd said it out loud. Then he made an awkward half-gesture toward Billy. “Yesterday, I mean. What happened during the fight.”

Billy grimaced at the memory and looked away. “Right.” He sighed softly. “That's actually why Zordon doesn't want me out fighting with you guys.”

The boy hesitated, picking at a loose thread on the blanket before continuing in a low voice. “The, uh... the pregnancy is putting additional strain on my cardiovascular system. Physical exertion tires me out faster than before, and yesterday I just pushed too hard. The combination of fatigue and decreased blood pressure led to a temporary syncope.” He gave a small, awkward chuckle. “Though, I guess the lack of oxygen circulation didn't help matters either.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Zack spoke.

“Okay, now once again, but this time in English,” he said with a crooked grin.

“He's saying he fainted,” Trini translated, then looked back at the bespectacled boy like even she wasn't completely sure. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Billy gave a sheepish shrug. “Not my finest moment.”

“Billy,” Kim started gently. “There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You shouldn't even have been fighting in the first place.”

“I know.” Another shrug. “But I couldn't just leave you guys out there.”

Jason's jaw clenched at the words, knowing they were true, but disliking them all the same.

It shouldn't have come to that. Jason should've noticed something that was off. Not only yesterday, but before that as well. Billy had been pale and distracted for days, and Jason had written it off as... stress and post-flu moodiness. Even when Zordon had held Billy back at the Command Center, he hadn't gotten the clue. Situational prudence should've kept Billy out of danger, and it was Jason's job to enforce that. But he hadn't. Some leader he was turning out to be.

Once again, it was Tommy who found the words Jason couldn't.

“Hey, man, I know what it's like, being sidelined when you guys are out fighting,” the alpha started, garnering a round of sympathetic nods from the others. “But Zordon just wants what's best for us, that's all. You don't have to prove anything,” he continued. “You're part of the team. Always.”

Billy nodded faintly at this, though his expression didn't quite ease.

Silence reigned for a moment until Zack broke it again.

“But you're okay, right?” he asked, his tone cautious, his usual grin no longer in sight. “I mean-” he lowered his gaze noticeably, “-both of you.” Then he shook is head. “Man, that's gonna take some time getting used to.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, looking anywhere but at them. “I'm okay.”

“It was never the stomach flu, was it?” Trini asked then.

Billy shook his head. “No. The whole thing's been wreaking havoc on my digestive system... among other things.”

Zack winced sympathetically. “Yikes. That sounds rough.”

Billy gave a small shrug. “It's manageable. My mother bought me medication for the nausea. It's been better since.”

“They know?” Kim asked in a quiet voice.

Billy nodded, but didn't volunteer any more information. Kim, similarly, didn't ask.

“Well, it's a good thing you're no longer dealing with it on your own anymore,” Trini remarked. “We'll help in any way we can.”

“Absolutely,” Tommy added quickly, leaning forward, his tone a little clumsy but sincere. “Anything you need, just say the word. I mean it.”

Jason didn't say anything, he just watched. Watched the hard line of Billy's mouth soften into a tentative smile, watched the way Tommy shifted a little closer without even realizing it. The two boys shared a quiet look, something unspoken passing between them.

The ache in Jason's chest twisted again, sharp and relentless. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the conversation as the others spoke, but everything felt muffled, distant, like they were all underwater. His whole body felt too tight, his throat dry.

He looked away, pretending to adjust his position on the grass, but the pressure in his chest didn't ease.

Kim noticed. “Jase?”

He forced a breath into his lungs and for a moment the world swam back into focus. “What?”

Kim was giving him a small, questioning look.

Jason swallowed hard, forcing out a nod. “Oh. Yeah. Of course. We're all right behind you, Billy.”

Billy’s smile deepened a fraction, warm and a little shy, and Jason felt that familiar twist in his gut all over again.

He couldn't sit there any longer.

Pushing himself to his feet, he brushed invisible dust from his jeans. “I, uh... I just remembered something I have to do,” he muttered, forcing a small, unconvincing smile. “I'll catch up with you guys later.”

Heads swivelled toward him in confusion, but before anyone could respond, he was already moving, quick, uneven steps carrying him off the blanket, onto the grass, and further toward the red-bricked path that had brought him here.

The air felt heavy, his lungs tight. Even the sound of Kim calling after him faded fast behind him, swallowed by the quiet of the sunny afternoon.

Chapter Text

Billy watched Jason's retreating back in silence, every step adding to the yawning hollow that had suddenly opened up inside his chest. He watched him until the boy disappeared down the path, out of sight, the space he left behind echoing louder than his footsteps ever could.

Beside him, Kim muttered something about being right back, and then her warm presence slipped away too, leaving him only with Zack's uncertain shifting, Tommy's unreadable stare, and Trini's quiet concern for company.

The lazy hum of the afternoon suddenly felt unbearably distant.

Jason had left.

Billy's throat tightened at the implication. The logical part of his mind – the one that always jumped to fill silence with rational explanation – tried to piece together the data. Jason had left abruptly after Billy had explained things. Correlation didn't always imply causation, of course, but…

But what else could it mean?

He'd seen Jason's expression, the way his jaw had set, the way he couldn't look at him, the way he had remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the entire speech.

It wasn't anger, not necessarily, but it certainly wasn't acceptance either.

Something inside Billy sank further.

Maybe Jason just didn't know what to say. Maybe he needed time. But maybe... maybe he just didn't want to say anything at all. Maybe he didn't want to deal with him anymore.

Billy's hands curled into fists in his lap. He'd known that his… condition would change things. It changed everything. But still, some small, foolish part of him had hoped that his friends – that Jason – would see past it.

Jason had always been the steady and unshakable one. The one who led them, and protected them, who understood them even when words failed.

And now he'd walked away.

The hollow in Billy's chest deepened, an ache was building behind his eyes.

Maybe Jason wasn't angry. Maybe he was disappointed. Or uncomfortable. Or worse, disgusted. The thought made Billy's stomach twist.

He told himself he was being irrational. Kim had told him that everyone would support him. They did support him. Jason had said so himself.

But words were easy. And actions spoke louder. And Jason walking away like that, without a word, without even looking back, said more than Billy wanted to hear.

Because beneath all the logic and reason, Billy couldn't ignore what really hurt: Jason wasn't just a teammate. He was Jason. The person whose opinion mattered more to Billy than anyone else's. The one whose approval, whose friendship, had always seemed to mean a little too much.

And if Jason couldn't even look at him now…

He blinked hard, but the sting in his eyes refused to fade. He ducked his head, pretending to focus on the thread he'd prying loose from the blanket. His vision blurred anyway.

Trini shifted closer, her voice gentle. “Hey, you okay?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Just a shaky breath.

“Aw, man, are you crying?” Zack asked, his tone softer than usual.

Billy swallowed hard, his voice rough when it finally emerged. “Negative,” he croaked through his tears. “My system is merely experiencing a temporary surplus of ocular saline, which is being expelled through the designated lacrimal ducts.”

“Billy, my main brain, that's literally what crying is.”

He ignored the correction and began expelling saline with even greater efficiency.

For a moment there was nothing but the quiet sound of Billy's hiccuping breaths. It was followed by a small shuffle, and then Zack was crouching down beside him in the space Kim had vacated.

“It's alright, man.” A hand settled between Billy's shoulder blades, rubbing slow, steady circles. “Let it out. You've been holding in so much.”

Billy's breathing grew heavier and the world turned to a watery blur. Tears slipped from beneath his glasses and streaked across his cheeks in silent rivulets.

Trini shifted closer until their shoulders brushed. Zack stayed a steady presence on the other side. Flanking him on both fronts, the betas offered him heartfelt – if slightly awkward – comfort: squeezing his arm, rubbing his back, murmuring soft reassurances.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. Because beneath the weight of Billy's fears and grief, he felt a tentative warmth, a reminder that he wasn't facing this alone.

“Hey, Billy,” Trini said gently after a while. “Don't take it personally. Jason's just… dealing with his own stuff right now.”

“Yeah,” Tommy added quietly from nearby, the alpha having evidently drifted closer as well. “I'm sure he has a good reason for this.”

“He had better,” Zack cut in, muttered in a voice that couldn't seem to decide if it was fond or angry.

Tommy paid it no mind. “But don't worry,” he went on, his tone confident. “He'll come round eventually.”

Billy nodded numbly. “Yeah. Maybe,” he whispered and let out a trembling breath.

He would deal with it when the time came. But for now, Billy simply let himself be held, leaning into the quiet comfort his friends offered him, letting the warmth of their presence fill his mind with hope and strength.

Chapter Text

Jason had barely made it halfway down the path before the weight in his chest became too much. Each breath came too shallow, his chest felt too tight, air was clawing at his lungs without finding purchase.

His pulse thudded loud in his ears, drowning out the sounds of his surroundings – the flutter of the breeze, the chatter of the birds, the faint far-off hum of human voices behind him.

His mind was a mess, a discordant symphony of jealously, hurt, confusion, and guilt, all tangled into something that burned and froze him at the same time. He stumbled toward a nearby bench, gripping the back as if it could ground him, knuckles going white against the metal. Jason bowed his head forward and forced his breathing to a slow, dragging several breaths of much-needed air into his lungs. Slowly, the pounding in his ears dulled, and the fog in his head started to clear, enough for him to make out a voice cutting through the lingering haze.

“Jason!”

He didn't turn. Footsteps scuffed against the bricks, quick and light, until a figure appeared beside him, arms crossed, eyes narrowing in a mix of disapproval and concern.

“Hey,” Kimberly said, her voice too firm to be gentle, too soft to be sharp. “What's with you? You just took off.”

Jason swallowed hard, still trying to steady his breathing. “Nothing,” he replied automatically, a lie that convinced neither of them. “I just need a minute.”

Kim frowned at him, studying his face. She looked suspiciously calm about all this, and somehow that made it worse.

“You knew about this,” he said finally. It wasn't a question, but Kim answered it all the same.

“Yeah,” she told him, unapologetically. “Billy told me a couple of days ago. He was freaking out about telling everyone, and let me just say: Your reaction right now-” her eyes narrowed further “-is not helping.”

Jason dragged a hand over his face. “I know. I just-” He exhaled, the air shaky.

“What's wrong with you anyway?” Kimberly pressed, tilting her head. “Wait, do you... do you know something about all this?”

“What? No. No, it's just...” Jason hesitated, his throat tight. “I mean... It could've been one of us.”

The girl's frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”

“Billy, he-” Jason ran a quick hand across his mouth, “he said he doesn't know. And we – none of us – would remember anything either, right?”

He swallowed unsteadily.

It could have been any of them. Zack. Tommy. Or him.

The idea sent a sharp, nauseating jolt through Jason's chest.

What if it was him? Would that make it better? Or worse? He didn't know. He couldn't tell anymore. Part of him – a desperate, selfish part – wanted it to be him, because then at least then it wouldn't be some faceless stranger.

Because if it wasn't him, if it was someone else entirely… Jason's stomach turned. The thought of Billy with another guy, some nameless alpha who might've hurt him or taken advantage, who'd gotten that close to him without caring, without loving him... The thought was enough to make Jason's blood boil.

Kim stared at him for a long beat, her expression softening as realization dawned. “Oh,” she murmured. “So that's what this is.”

Kim let out a slow breath, then she rounded the bench until she was standing in front of him.

“Look,” she said, voice firm but not unkind. “Jase, I love you, but now is really not the best time to be having a moment, okay? Because Billy is back there,” she continued, gesturing toward the tree line they'd left behind, “probably thinking you hate him after running off with some flimsy excuse.”

Jason winced, guilt flickering through his being. He hadn't meant to make Billy feel worse – that was the last thing he wanted. He just hadn't known what to do with everything twisting up inside him. And now Billy probably thought he couldn't even look at him. Couldn't stand him. Damn it. “That wasn't what I-”

“I know,” she cut him off. Then she sighed. “Okay, what you're going to do now is to get yourself together, then you're going to go back there and apologize for being…” Kim gestured toward him, searching for the right word. Then she let her hands drop. “Well, just apologize.”

Jason exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. For a moment, he wanted to argue, to tell her that he couldn't do it, but she was right. Kimberly always was.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice low but steadier. “Okay. You're right.”

Kim gave him a small, approving smile and started back up the path. Jason hesitated a beat, then pushed himself forward, matching her pace as they made their way back toward the others.

*****

Zack was the first to speak when Jason and Kim reappeared on the clearing.

“Man, I should whoop your ass,” the beta told him, sitting where Kim had sat earlier, his position concealing the greater part of the boy's frame next to him from Jason's sight. “You made Billy cry.”

Jason's stomach twisted as he came to a halt by the edge of the blanket. “I didn't mean to-” he started, but the words died in his throat when Zack shifted and Billy's entirety was revealed to his eyes.

The smaller boy sat on the blanket, shoulders drawn in tight, eyes red-rimmed behind his glasses. The sight hit Jason like a gut punch. Guilt surged through him so strong he had to swallow it down.

“Look, guys, can we have a minute alone?” he managed, voice hoarse as he gestured vaguely in Billy's direction. “Please?”

For a moment, no one moved. The air hung still, filled with unspoken doubt.

Then, surprisingly, Tommy came to his rescue.

The alpha shifted towards his bag and dug around inside. “Sure,” he said easily, pulling out a scuffed football and tossing it from hand to hand. “Why don't the rest of us play a game?”

Kim, beside him, shot her boyfriend a look of pleased surprise. “A scrimmage? You're on.”

Trini nodded in agreement, then turned to Billy. “That okay with you?”

Billy sniffed once before giving a small nod of his own. “I'm good, Trini, thanks.”

The girl smiled softly at the reaction and rose to her feet. On Billy's other side, Zack followed suit.

“I'm game if you guys are,” the beta said, following the others as they moved toward the open field, though not before taking a moment to shoot a sharp glance at Jason – a look that held both sympathy and warning all at once.

Then the boy passed him. “Since when are you into football anyway?” Zack called out to the Tommy as he jogged to catch up with the others.

“Yeah,” Kim concurred. “I thought you said you didn't know how to play.”

“I don't,” the alpha gave back with a sheepish laugh.

Their voices drifted off as they moved further field-inward, the friends' laughter mingling faintly with the breeze.

And suddenly, it was just the two of them.

Billy still wasn't looking at him. He sat cross-legged on the blanket, fingers worrying at a loose thread, eyes fixed on the blanket before him. Jason took a few hesitant steps closer, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

“Billy,” he said softly. “Look, I’m sorry.”

Billy's head lifted a little, just enough for Jason to see the faint tracks his tears had left behind on his cheeks.

“I'm sorry for leaving,” he went on, words tumbling out rough-edged but sincere. “I was stuck in my own head about something, and I didn't think about how it would affect you, or-” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “I just didn't think.”

Billy sniffed again, rubbing a hand across his nose. “It's okay, Jason. I know this is a lot.”

Jason sat down a careful distance away, elbows on his knees. “That's no excuse. You trusted us with this, and I bailed. That's on me.”

Silence lingered for a long, heavy moment. The distant sound of laughter and a football hitting the grass floated on the wind.

Finally, Billy said quietly, “I understand.”

Jason looked over, something twisting in his chest at the calm in the boy's voice — a calm that felt both too forced, and too forgiving.

Jason shook his head. “No, I don't think you do.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, frustration tugging at his tone. “Mostly because I'm not doing a very good at explaining myself.”

The boy sighed – a small, tired sound – and pushed himself upright. “Look, Jase,” he started, lifting his gaze to meet Jason's for only a short moment before glancing away again. “I get it, I really do. And you don't-” He drew a breath. “You don't have to do this. You don't have to be here and pretend to be okay with it. I'll manage. You don't have to be involved in any of this-”

“But I want to be involved,” Jason cut in, too quick, too sharp.

Startled blue eyes found his and Jason winced. “What I mean,” he tried again, slower this time, “is that you're not alone. You don't have to manage this by yourself.”

Jason hesitated, searching for the right words to convey his feelings... Came up empty and decided to wing it instead. “We – all of us – care about you.” He swallowed, and forced himself to keep his eyes on Billy even as his heartbeat drummed away unevenly in his chest. “And I know I haven't been acting like it today, but I do too. Care about you. A lot.”

There was a pause then, a breath of silence that seemed to rise and fall to the rhythm of Jason's lungs.

Jason exhaled, pushing against the tightness in his chest. He tried for a small smile. “I mean, you're one of my best friends,” he said.

And just like that, something in those blue eyes flickered and dimmed, almost imperceptibly. Too quick for Jason to be entirely sure it had been there at all, a shadow rippling across the other boy's countenance only to vanish with the next breath. It was as if the reassurance had somehow landed wrong. But Jason would not let it deter him.

“And I'd be lying if I said this doesn't change things. It's life-changing,” he continued softly. “But it doesn't change how I feel about you. It doesn't change that I'm your friend, and that I'll always have your back, no matter what problem it is you're facing. Whether it's a fight against giants monsters the size of skyscrapers, or-” he paused, gesturing vaguely at the other boy's midsection, “or something the size of a lentil. I'll always be there for you, man. And I'm sorry I made you doubt it.”

The pause that followed hung in the air, long enough to feel like it might stretch on forever. But then Billy let out a shaky breath, and he looked up, his sea-blue eyes catching Jason's gaze – their colour made both bluer and brighter by the sheen of unshed tears that shimmered behind his glasses.

A smile was tugging at the boy's lips – small and fragile, but there. And it warmed Jason from the inside, made the ache in his chest settle just a little.

“Thank you, Jason,” Billy said, soft notes of sincerity catching on the wisps of the low-spoken words. “ I appreciate it.”

Jason tried for a faint smile of his own. He leaned forward, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial half-whisper. “So… am I forgiven?”

The question earned him a small chuckle, and Billy’s smile widened by a fraction. “Affirmative,” he said, the word gentle, teasing. Then, after a beat, “Zack might still be angry at you though.”

Jason snorted quietly. “Yeah, I got that too.”

He glanced out toward the field, where Kim, Zack, and Trini were playing ball and Tommy was doing… something. For a while, they just sat there. This time, the silence between them wasn't suffocating, just quiet.

After a few moments, Jason spoke again. “You know, for what it's worth, I'm glad this is what you had to tell us, and that it's not-” he made a gesture, only to abandon it midway through, “-that it isn't anything more serious.”

Billy gave him a look at that, one eyebrow lifting above the rim of his glasses if to ask 'This isn't serious enough?'

Jason's mouth twitched. “Yeah, okay, that came out wrong.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint, self-conscious smile tugging at his lips before fading just as quickly. “I just mean… Like, I know everything's kind of a mess right now, but it'll get better. Just...” His gaze drifted down to his hands, fingers fidgeting against his knee. “With everything that happened yesterday, and Zordon saying stuff about a condition...” He gave helpless shrug. “I was up half the night worrying.”

Calling it 'worrying' was probably putting it mildly. His thoughts had run rampant last night, had spiralled in a way they only could in the dead of night, when exhaustion blurred reason and every shadow seemed a little too deep. He'd gone from thinking that Billy might want to quit the team, to imagining some slow, creeping illness that was eating away at him from the inside. Every possibility had felt heavier, darker, more impossible to deal with than the last. And it certainly hadn't helped that Zordon, in all his cryptic wisdom, had made everything sound so damn ominous.

If Jason had been looking, he would have caught the flicker of surprise that crossed the boy's face for a single heartbeat, the way his mouth parted just slightly before pressing back into a thin line.

“I'm sorry,” Billy murmured. “I didn't mean for you to worry about-”

Jason's gaze shot up. “Of course I was going to worry,” he cut in before Billy could even finish, the words tumbling out sharper than intended.

Billy’s returned his gaze at that, softening, but there was something rueful in the curve of his mouth. “Oh,” he said quietly, “you mean because I won't be part of the team anymore.”

“That's not- Don't even think that, man,” Jason said with a grimace, shaking his head. “You'll always be part of the team. Once a Ranger, always a Ranger.” He hesitated then, glancing toward the field again before adding, more quietly. “But you get why you shouldn't be out there fighting with us, right?”

Billy didn't answer right away, and Jason could see the protest forming on his face — that same stubborn set of his jaw that always appeared just before an argument.

Jason held up a hand before he could speak. “I know,” he said gently. “You want to help. I get it. But... it's not just you anymore.”

He wasn't sure what Zordon had in mind. Maybe relocate Billy to the Command Center on a semi-permanent basis, or have him focus on tech and tactics instead of combat? Whatever the plan was, Jason hoped it kept him safe.

Because being a Ranger... wasn't. They got thrown around. They got hurt. Whether by Putties or something worse. And still, they picked themselves up and kept fighting. It was part of who they were. But it didn't mean they were invincible. It had never been anything truly serious so far, nothing they couldn't dust off afterwards. The Power protected them. But Jason couldn't be sure that would always be the case.

And Jason hated it. Hated seeing his friends hurt. Hated seeing Billy hurt, specifically. And not because the omega was weak, or couldn't handle himself in a fight, or anything like that. But simply because he was Billy.

And now that he was… expecting, there was no way Jason would let him be put in a position where something could happen to him. In truth, part of him even wanted Billy back at the Command Center. Where he wouldn't come to harm. Where Jason could breathe easier just knowing he was okay.

He knew better than to say so out loud though.

The boy heaved a sigh, pulling Jason's attention back to him. “I know,” he breathed, “but it doesn't make it any easier.”

Jason felt his expression soften. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “Sometimes doing nothing is the hardest thing to do.”

Billy gave a humourless chuckle. “Guess I'm going to have to get used to it.”

Jason nodded, not knowing how to respond.

The silence crept back in between them, not quite as comfortable this time around. There was something Jason wanted to ask, a question in his mind that he couldn't shake. He wasn't sure if it was the right time to ask, or if there even was a right time for it, but the question pressed harder the longer he looked at Billy.

Finally, Jason swallowed and forced himself to speak. “Can I- uh, can I ask you something?”

Billy looked up, wary but curious. “Sure.”

“So, uh...” Jason rubbed the back of his neck, choosing each word carefully before he spoke. “Do you really have no idea who…” he hesitated, the words catching somewhere in his throat until he pressed past them, “...who the father is?”

Billy blinked, slow and careful. “No,” he said. “I don't remember.”

Jason immediately regretted asking. “Right. Yeah. Sorry. That was a stupid question.”

Billy shook his head, a shadow passing over his face. “It's okay,” he murmured, though his tone made it clear it really wasn't. “It's not exactly an easy topic. My dad… he didn't believe me either.”

Jason's chest tightened, anger and helplessness mixing together. “I do believe you,” he said softly. “I mean, it wasn't just you, I'm still missing entire days...”

He let the implication linger there, hovering just beyond reach, hanging between the words that were being left unsaid. For a moment, Jason let himself think it, let himself indulge in the possibility that was equal parts intriguing as it was terrifying.

What if it had been him? What if, by some stroke of fate, Billy had come to him? What if they had spent his heat together, had been together in ways Jason had only ever envisioned in his dreams?

What if there was now some piece of him tied to the other boy? What would that mean? For Billy, for him, for them?

Jason scoffed quietly, shaking his head in self-reproach for allowing himself to wallow in such wild fantasies.

It was inconceivable really, to imagine that the universe would give him everything he's ever wanted, only to take it away again. For Jason to have had it, to have held it, and then to lose it to blank space of his own memory...

No, he decided. The universe wouldn't be so cruel.

At the end of the day, it didn't really matter who it was, he told himself. What mattered was that Billy was safe, and that they were okay.

He looked at Billy, then followed the blond boy's gaze toward the field where Kim and Trini were tossing a ball back and forth. His lips twitched at the sight of Zack animatedly explaining something to Tommy that involved a lot of broad and frustrated gesturing.

“You wanna join them?” Jason asked, nodding in their direction.

Billy glanced back at him, the traces of his earlier tears long gone. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he nodded.

“It does appear as though Zack could use some assistance in explaining the rules to Tommy,” he said.

Jason huffed a quiet laugh and pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand. “Come on.”

Billy reached for it, only for Jason to hesitate as a thought struck him.

“Wait, hold on. Should you even be playing? I mean...” He trailed off as his gaze flicked briefly to the boy's midsection before darting back up. The unimpressed expression that awaited him when his gaze returned to the omega's face made him wince.

“Not that I'm implying that you're fragile or anything,” he amended quickly. “It's just, football's kind of a contact sport...”

Billy gave him a look that fell somewhere between pity and fond exasperation, sprinkled with a tiny dash of amusement.

“I’m pregnant, Jason, not made of glass.”

He accepted the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. Then, with a spark of mischief returning to his eyes, he added, “But if you're scared to lose, you're welcome to sit this one out.”

Then, before Jason could respond, the boy jogged off toward the others.

Jason laughed as he watched him go – a real, unguarded laugh that loosened something in his chest. For the first time that day, the world felt right again.

“Hey, wait up!” he called, grinning as he broke into a run after him.

After all, someone was going to have to teach Tommy how to play ball, and it sure wasn't going to be Zack.