Chapter Text
Forward:
This project started as a simple creative writing exercise for homeschooling, something I could do with my kids to keep our imaginations moving. Around the same time, I was on mandatory bed rest during a high-risk pregnancy, and what was supposed to be a short, playful assignment quietly turned into… this.
I fell down a 90's nostalgia rabbit hole and started asking questions I couldn't un-ask. Chief among them: how would a group of real teenagers not walk away with PTSD after fighting aliens, getting launched through explosions, and being tossed around in Zords like human pinballs? That question became the engine of the story, and the character arcs began to take over.
In the process, I reacquainted myself with the fandom and discovered things I had missed: the comics, entire eras I hadn't really watched, and yes, the Turbo movie (I'd aged out by then so I never saw it). My original watch history was MMPR through In Space, then I jumped to Dino Thunder later because I hadn't seen those either. I barely watched Zeo back in the day, mostly in passing when my cousins had it on and I remember thinking, "Who the hell are these people?" But I digress.
And then there was that breakup letter...WHY!?
Finally, the real spark that ignited this specific storyline came from the 30th anniversary special, Once & Always. That was when the shape of the larger narrative snapped into focus, and I knew exactly what I wanted to explore: not just what happened during the fight, but what happens after, when the world expects you to grow up and move on as if nothing happened.
You'll also find relationship pairings in here that not everyone will agree with. I made those choices intentionally, and I have my reasons. I'm hoping they're clear on the page, even if they're not what you would have picked. Honestly, a part of me will always love Kim and Tommy together, because that's the couple we grew up with, but since it isn't canon the way the show ultimately played it, I built this story's pairings around the emotional logic of this universe and the themes I wanted to write toward. I hope you enjoy regardless.
Thank you for reading, and for stepping into this version of their world with me. Fair warning...it's a slow burn kind of a story so just a heads up.
Also as I've been uploading I've decided to split it up into a Trilogy. I really did do a lot on three months of bedrest.
Update: Did some much needed edits to the story. Nothing big just trimming some of the fat and fixing spelling, grammar, and timestamp presentation.
Angel Grove, California – March 1988
The rain was soft that evening. Not stormy or angry, just a steady, whispering drizzle. It tapped against the glass of Jason Scott's bedroom window.
Jason was already half-asleep, curled under his red comforter, breathing slow and steady. Then a familiar sound, three soft taps on the glass.
Nine years old and already an old soul in a kid's frame, Jason rolled out of bed barefoot and padded across the wooden floor. He didn't bother to turn on the light. He didn't need to see. He knew who was waiting.
The window lifted with a creak and a gust of damp air. And there she was.
Kimberly. Dampened pajamas. Hair stringy and stuck to her cheeks. Her lip trembled, but she wasn't crying. Not anymore anyway.
Jason stepped back to let her climb in. She didn't say anything. She never did at first. She just moved like a girl who knew the map by heart. Over the sill, onto the floor, and under the blanket he held out for her.
"You okay?" he asked, quietly.
She shook her head. That was it. Jason didn't push. He just pulled the blanket tighter around her and crawled back into bed. They laid back-to-back, the way they always did at first. Space between them, like the world expected kids their age should. Later that night, her small hand found his. Fingers curled into the sleeve of his T-shirt. His hand found hers like it had been waiting there the whole time.
Spring faded into summer. Another night. Another knock. Jason opened the window without even thinking. Her face was less streaked this time, but her eyes were still too wide for someone so small.
By July, she wasn't knocking anymore. Sometimes she was already in the room by the time Jason stirred. One night, Jason's mom, Bev, walked by and saw the two of them curled up on opposite sides of the bed.
She stood there a moment, just watching. Her eyes softened. She didn't say a word. She didn't stop it either. She knew why the little girl was there.
Autumn came.
The days shortened.
One early morning, Jason's dad Sam found a pink bike abandoned in the driveway at one a.m. He just wheeled it into the garage. The next night, a motion light had appeared above Jason's window.
Winter arrived with early dusk and a deeper quiet.
Christmas morning came quiet and bright, and Kimberly was there in her flannel pajamas, bedhead, still curled in Jason's bed like she'd never left.
Because she hadn't. This was their ritual for this season of their life...until that night.
(*)
January 1989
The rain had stopped and the sky was clear. But the noise on this particular night he would never forget. The yelling wasn't anything new. But it was louder and meaner than usual. Jason sat up, heart already tight. He rose from his bed expecting to see her when he got to his window, but she wasn't there.
He watched for her and waited, seated at the window. But there was no knock this time. None was needed.
The bedroom door creaked open slowly. Kimberly was being ushered in this time by his mother Bev. Her steps were uneven and she held her arm weird, tucked close like it hurt. Her hair was wet again, but not from rain.
Jason moved to her instantly.
"What happened?" he whispered.
She didn't answer. Just moved past him, crawled into bed, and pulled the blanket over her head like a curtain that could erase everything.
He looked to his mother standing in the doorway. She had a concerning look on her face. "Look after her". He nodded as she turned to head down the hallway.
When he moved to lay down next to her, Jason saw it. A raw scrape at the edge of her shoulder, bruising climbing up the side of her neck.
He froze. Then he felt his presence. He turned to see his father, Sam filling the space in his doorway.
Jason remained at the side of the bed, silent, scared, yet protective.
Sam examined her from afar, and saw enough. He glanced at his son whose eyes were fighting back tears.
Sam said nothing. Just turned and walked back down the hall. In the next few seconds, he heard the muffled voices of his parents in their living room and the unmistakable sound of his own front door closing. He moved back to the window and watched as his father Sam crossed their lawn over to Kimberly's front door.
He knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Harder.
The door flung opened. Then there was muffled shouting. Then a slam. Then another knock, or maybe it was a shove.
Jason couldn't see everything. Just flashes of movement through the curtains. But he saw enough to know what was happening.
The sound of a punch landing.
Voices raised.
His father's yelling "If you ever touch her again…!"
The rest was drowned out in chaos.
Jason turned back toward his bed. Kimberly was curled small under his blanket, breathing ragged but slowly evening out. He climbed back in beside her, brushed the damp hair from her forehead. She didn't wake, but she settled.
Outside, the porch light flickered once.
Then it went dark.
Later that night, Jason didn't move at first. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching the curve of her shoulder rise and fall under the blanket. Kimberly hadn't said a word since she walked in. Didn't even look at him. But he had seen it, the way her arm hung stiff, the cut on her neck, the quiver in her lip that she tried to stifle. She began to stir just a bit under the covers. He reached out and rested a hand gently on the blanket, near where her ribs would be.
"Hey. You want some water?" he asked gently.
No answer.
He tried again, quieter. "I could make cocoa."
Still nothing.
Then a whisper, barely audible. "Don't go."
Jason's hand stilled. "I won't."
Another long pause.
"…Is it bad?" she asked.
He didn't lie. "Yeah."
Under the blanket, she exhaled. Then. "I think he thought I dropped that plate on purpose," she whispered.
"You didn't," he said, flatly. "But even if you did... it's just a plate."
A long silence passed between them. Jason sat back against the headboard, right foot dangling over the side, facing the door like a sentry.
"You remember when my mom dropped that pie at Thanksgiving?" he said finally.
Kim didn't answer, but he knew she was listening.
"She laughed so hard she fell down and got mashed potatoes in her sock."
That earned the tiniest sound of a huff through her nose.
"She threw the whole thing in the trash and then ate ice cream straight out of the tub with a spatula."
Kim's voice broke through, quieter. "She gave us each a spoon like it was a prize."
Jason smiled. " It totally was…Yeah…My mom's weird."
Kim's head poked out slowly from under the blanket, her cheek smudged and pale, eyes red-rimmed but clearer now.
"I like her." she murmured.
"She likes you." Jason paused. Looked at her for a long second. "So does my dad."
She flinched a little at that.
"I think he saw," she whispered. "The cut."
Jason nodded. "He did."
"What's he gonna do?"
Jason didn't answer right away. He just turned to the window, where the curtains barely stirred in the still air.
"I think he already did it."
Jason didn't sleep at all that night. He just sat upright leaning against his headboard and watched her breathe. In the morning she was jolted awake by something unsettling in her dream state. She reached her hand out trying to place herself when he caught it mid-air.
"Hey... You're ok. You're at my place," he said softly.
Kim nodded, and settled herself.
She took a moment before speaking. "Is he mad?"
"You mean my dad?"
She nodded again.
"No," Jason said. "Well not at you."
She was quiet again for a long moment.
"…Did…did he hit him?"
Jason looked down. "He went over to your house after you came, but I don't know. I couldn't see."
Kim laid back down and closed her eyes again, her hand never leaving his. She didn't say anything more about it.
Downstairs, Jason's mother Bev sat beside Kimberly's mom Caroline on the couch. A mug of untouched tea sat on the coffee table in front of her next to a stack of freshly signed legal papers. The source of last night's outbursts. The divorce was already in motion. All last night did was light the inevitable fuse.
Sam stood near the kitchen, arms crossed, face unreadable, one of his hands wrapped with an ice pack.
"I didn't think he would turn it on her." Caroline said, her voice cracking. "I thought… I thought if I just waited, he would stop."
"He didn't," Bev said gently. "But you stopped it."
This was a night Jason Scott would never forget, becoming the foundation for why he never flinched when being teased for being too overprotective of the ones he loved.
But for Kimberly on the other hand, it was a night that would be one of many bricks in a wall she would one day have to dismantle.
(*)
1989-1992
There was no line in the sand. No single day where their rhythm had changed all at once. Even though he was gone now, Kim still had her nights where the memory lingered, and she would still find herself carrying out their nighttime ritual, tapping the window, and climbing under the covers.
Until one night, neither of them remember when exactly, Kim just stopped.
By age twelve, the visits were quieter. She would come in through the front door instead of the window, and Jason wouldn't say much. He'd just hand her a Gatorade and flopped on the couch beside her letting her watch whatever she wanted.
"You're stronger than you think, Kim," Jason said once, voice flat from watching her stare at the floor too long instead of whatever dumb horror film they had picked that day. She didn't answer him. But she stayed another hour.
The divorce finalized that fall. Her dad never showed his face in town again. Not after what Sam did to him that night. Bev helped Caroline find a smaller place. It wasn't far but it was far enough to make the shift significant to the two of them. It was a quaint little 2 bedroom house tucked at the end of a cul-de-sac, with ivy crawling up the back fence and a mailbox that leaned just a tad to the left.
Jason stood in the driveway while they packed the last of Kimberly's things into the U-Haul. He didn't say much.
"I'll see you in school tomorrow." Was all she said.
He smiled and nodded.
And that was it.
A new chapter.
That night, his window stayed closed.
They still walked to school together sometimes. Kimberly had gymnastics meets most weekends. Jason was starting to train with Sam in the garage, learning to lift, to punch, to take a hit without flinching. They didn't talk about what used to happen.
Kim started staying for dinner more often. Caroline came too. Jason noticed how his dad always stood when she walked into the room. How his mom always gave her the seat with the best light. No one said it, but they all felt it. She was family even if the paperwork said otherwise.
(*)
Jason
At fourteen, they were sprawled in the backyard on a warm spring night, grass sticking to their arms, sweat drying on their necks after a pickup game at the park.
Kimberly laughed, head tilted back, eyes closed, the kind of laugh that rolled out unguarded. Jason said something dumb, and she tossed a pebble at him.
"Your haircut still looks like a helmet," she teased.
"Thanks," he muttered, flicking a blade of grass her way.
She laughed again. Louder this time.
Jason looked over. The moonlight caught the corner of her cheek. Her mouth curled at the edge. Her hair had come loose from the scrunchie she never admitted to liking.
He almost leaned in…almost. But something stopped him…a whisper of fear.
What if I'm wrong? What if I lose her?
He didn't move. The silence between heartbeats stretched. And then it passed.
The next day, he sat on the floor of Trini's room, his back against her desk. She was perched cross-legged on the bed, flipping through a comic.
Jason didn't look up when he asked.
"You think… she could ever like me? You know…that way?"
Trini tilted her head, chewing on the corner of a pencil.
"Jase… she already loves you. The question is just… what kind?"
He exhaled. Scratched at the carpet. "I almost kissed her last night."
Trini looked up. "Why didn't you?"
Jason's jaw tensed. "Because if I was wrong… I might lose her. And I'd rather have her in my life than gamble with it."
She didn't say anything at first. Just nodded, quietly understanding.
(*)
Kimberly
After that spring night in the grass when Jason didn't kiss her, it didn't hit her all at once. It was more like a slow drift. The kind you don't notice until your toes stop touching and you're already out in the deep.
After laughing too hard, teasing him about his haircut, and waiting for a kiss that never came, something inside Kimberly Hart went still. He didn't say anything. Didn't explain the silence between them that lingered just a beat too long, and that's what hurt the most.
Not that he didn't kiss her, but that when he didn't… he didn't even look sorry.
She never brought it up. Instead, she just pivoted.
She got louder.
Brighter.
Spoke with the valley-girl lilt that girls on TV used when they weren't sure what else to say. "Omigod, like totally."
It didn't really feel like her, but it worked. People leaned in. Teachers smiled more. Boys fumbled and swooned. Girls mirrored her outfit choices.
She leaned into it and piled on the charm like sweet perfume. Because if she couldn't be wanted the way she wanted… she could at least be liked.
Jason never called her out on it, even though he knew it wasn't the real her. He just adjusted the way he always did. Just like when they had stopped their childhood nighttime routine. Or when she moved a few extra blocks down.
Regardless, whenever she tossed a sarcastic joke his way, or spun up some flirty nonsense to cover her nervousness, he would grin like he saw the real her hiding inside it.
It wasn't that she thought he didn't care. It was that he cared too quietly, which almost made it worse.
Because the girl inside her, the one who used to cry into his pillow and whisper "don't go" in the dark, still looked for him in every hallway.
At backyard dinners, she would catch him watching Caroline. Jason had once looked at her mother with fury in his eyes. But the night everything changed that fire had cooled into something steadier. Whenever Caroline laughed too hard at one of Bev's wine jokes, the kind that only made sense after 9 p.m. and a second glass, Jason would look at her mom with something that new. It was… respect.
Not for the years Caroline had endured. But for the fact that she had left. That she fought not just for herself, but for her daughter. That she won. It was the same way he looked at her when he would tell her "You're stronger than you think Kim".
They aren't entirely sure when the jokes started, but they were definitely the kind fueled by far too much wine and familiarity. Bev would nudge Caroline at a cookout, and nod toward Kim and Jason sitting under the deck lights.
"We ought to just marry them off and be done with it." Was the basic gist of what either one of them would say far too loud.
Jason groaned once. "I'm moving to Canada."
Kim threw a pillow at his head, but her face stayed warm for a while after that.
And maybe… just maybe… neither of them hated the idea as much as they pretended to. Not that they would ever say that out loud.