Chapter Four

--

Wes sensed rather than heard or saw the mutant approaching him, then he heard something snap beneath its step, and a low, deep breathing. He felt his muscles tense in apprehension as the mutant drew nearer, he saw a dark form emerge from behind a building and let out a yell as he shot out his foot and kicked it into the wall.

Dragging it into the light, Wes could see now that it was the same mutant Eric was injured by; he demanded angrily: "What'd you do to my friend?"

"What are you talking about?" it snarled.

Wes surprised himself by the anger he felt welling up within him, he pushed the mutant to the ground and pressed his foot down hard on it. "The Quantum Ranger," he said lowly. "Was hurt. He's not getting better. What happened to him?"

"Do you really think I'm going to tell you?"

The mutant leapt to its feet and hit Wes across the face, whirling him into the brick wall of the building next to them. Wes grunted, but recovered quickly and a second later he had morphed into the Red Ranger, and was now evenly-matched.

He blocked a vicious punch from the mutant with his forearm and responded by kicking it in the gut, both could hear the sounds of the streets as they fought fiercely, trying to concentrate on only each other. But the music from a house across the street floated over and Wes heard the words all too clearly . . .

. . . It's the third hardest thing I'll ever have to do
Leaving here without you
And the second hardest thing I'll ever had to do
Is telling her about you . . .

Wes gritted his teeth as he drew his blaster and shot, knocking the mutant into the street; he rushed forward and pressed his blaster to its head . . .

. . . She's been good to me, When things were going rough, How can I tell her now, That ain't good enough . . .

Wes pressed the blaster hard against the mutant, knowing it was hard enough to inflict pain; the mutant struggled in vain to free himself from Wes death-grip.

"Tell me!" Wes shouted.

"Never!"

The Red Ranger saw the blow coming and ducked just in time to miss the mutant's claws, although he felt and hear his sleeve tear; glancing over, he saw a small scratch that accompanied it. His glancing away was just long enough for the mutant to push him aside, now he was flat on his back and staring up at a dark face with terrifying, glowing green eyes . . .

. . . The hardest thing I'll ever have to do
Is holding her and loving you . . .

A blaster shot took out the mutant, Wes jumped to his feet as Lucas ran up, frowning at him: "Wes, you shouldn't have—"

"Not now, Lucas!" Wes said quickly.

As he spoke, the mutant pulled a weapon from what seemed like out of nowhere, and proceeded to fire it at the two rangers; Wes and Lucas were thrown in the air, landing on the ground with a sickening thud. Wes started to get up, but Lucas grabbed his arm, speaking urgently. "Wes, we should go back. We can't defeat it on our own!"

Wes knew he was right, but he still hated running away, hearing the mutant's taunting laughs behind them as they disappeared into the night . . .

. . . If she'd give me one good reason I'd be gone
But she ain't done one thing wrong
So don't expect me just to walk out of the door
I still love her but I love you more . . .

--

"We didn't find out a damn thing!" Wes snapped.

Alex jumped a little, startled by Wes' tone as he entered the kitchen with Lucas; the Time Force officer turned slowly and looked at both of them in turn as he sipped his drink. Then he gestured them to follow him and led them into the temporary "briefing room" where they sat as he went over to a computer.

"I contacted Admiral Fuller," Alex said, "and did a little research myself while you were gone. This type of mutant is not poisonous in itself—"

"That's a relief," Lucas said, nodding toward the small mark on Wes' arm.

"—but it does carry a virus with it." Alex sighed as he sat down across from them. "In most cases, they were found with a type of weapon that can easily be inserted into its victim—like a needle."

"That's what happened to Eric?" Wes assumed.

"Yes."

"Is there an antidote?" Lucas asked.

Alex's eyes fell and Wes felt his blood run cold as he stared at the former Red Ranger in horror; he could barely get the words out. "There isn't . . . is there?"

"No," Alex said quietly. "Not even in the the thirty-first Century."

Wes' eyes widened, he was completely silent and still for a moment, then he stood abruptly and left the room; he could barely catch his breath as he went into Eric's room and sat by his pale form. There was no indication of life in the Quantum Ranger, his breathes were barely audible . . .

Wes stared at him sorrowfully, there was no antidote, Eric was dying . . .

"No!"

He slammed his fist on the table next to him, as Jen came in, she stopped in the doorway to see Wes burying his face in his hands, fighting back tears. She hurried over and wrapped her arms around him, he turned to her immediately and they held each other . . .

"Jen . . . " he whispered.

"Shh," her voice was soft. "Quiet. Let's get you to bed, you're exhausted."

"No." Wes shook his head as he straightened up. "I need to stay with Eric. Alex said that—" he swallowed hard "—he—"

"I know," Jen cut him off. "I heard."

"Eric's going to die?"

"I don't know," Jen said. "what we do know is that Eric is not a quitter, remember? If anyone can get this thing it's him."

Jen watched his eyelids droop, his shoulders were slumped from exhaustion and worry; she helped him to his feet and they walked out of Eric's room together. She stayed with him until they reached his bedroom, for a moment they just stared at each other longingly, then she turned—

"Jen?"

She couldn't bring herself to answer.

"I love you."

As she walked down the hallway, Wes lied down in his bed and closed his eyes, the words of that song still echoing in his mind . . .

. . . She's been good to me
When things weren't going right
She made my days
Long before you made my nights
The hardest thing I'll ever have to do
Is holding her and loving you . . .

--

Wes rolled onto his side, groaning as his alarm clock went off, buzzing into his ear; he cracked open an eye and glared at it before sitting up slowly, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and noticed that he had fallen asleep in his clothes. Suddenly, it hit him: He rushed from his room and to Eric's, his heart racing with fear.

"Eric?"

He froze. Eric was gone. The bed was empty, although neatly made, but no one was in it, as last night; Wes fled to the kitchen, where the others were gathered yet again.

"Where is he?"

"Easy, Wes," Jen said quickly, hurrying to him. "We moved him to the hospital earlier this morning, you were out cold so . . . "

Wes sighed, running his fingers through his hair; he was annoyed they hadn't woken him, he would have preferred to remain with Eric in case--

"I have to see him," he said quietly.

"Have some breakfast first," Katie insisted.

"I'm not hungry."

Alex frowned as he entered, noting the lines in Wes' face and dark circles beneath his eyes; he spoke firmly. "Wes, you'll do us no good in your current condition. And certainly not Eric. You're only succeeding in harming yourself."

Wes relented, sitting at the table as Katie poured him some cereal and placed the bowl down; he had no appetite whatsoever, but his friends were insistent.

After eating, Wes showered and changed into clean clothes, then hopped on his bike and drove to the hospital; the receptionist at the front desk directed him to Eric's room, and he sat there for an hour. Then Eric's eyes opened slightly and he was staring at him almost suspiciously.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Wes looked up quickly. "Eric?" He leaned over, his eyes wide. "You're awake!"

"Yeah . . . " Eric's eyes darted back and forth across the room. "You took me to a hospital?"

"Not me—" Wes raised his hands innocently "—I wasn't even awake. How're you feeling?"

Eric eyed him carefully. "How should I be feeling?" Wes avoided his friend's gaze, not particularly anxious to inform him that he was dying, but Eric wasn't stupid. "Not good, huh?" he said.

"Alex says there's not even a cure in the future," Wes murmured. "So there's no way we could find one here, I guess."

"It's a death sentence then." Eric scowled. "Fuck. Well . . . you'd better get back to work, Wes, I'm counting on you to get this mutant for me."

"I will."

Eric nodded a little, more distressed by the thought of death than he would ever let anyone know; Wes stood and left the hospital, haunted by the image he saw of a pale and sick Eric lying in bed, staring after him.

Before returning to the house, he stopped by a coffee shop and got a drink, sitting by himself next to a window and looking outside. He heard the door open and close, but paid no attention till he saw out of the corner of his eye someone standing beside him; he looked over and smiled sadly at Jen.

"Hey," she said. "Figured you might be here."

"How'd you know that?"

She slid onto the seat across from him and took his hand, noting how it trembled slightly, she had never seen Wes so upset. "As I recall," she said softly. "You always went here when you were confused. Or upset by something."

"Confused and upset—" he took a gulp of coffee "—that sounds just about right. I have no idea what to do. About anything."

Jen knew he was referring to their tangled relationship, and that of his and Ariana's, she quickly removed her hand and sat still; he met her eyes, she could see the love in his and he knew she felt the same way.

"I can't do this," Wes said. "I can't lead her on like this." He leaned back in his seat. "I really thought I loved her."

"I'm sorry, Wes," Jen sighed. "This is my fault. I—I shouldn't have come back."

"No!" Wes hastily took her hands in his and held them tightly. "Jen, I'm so glad you came back—I've missed you more than anything."

"All I've done is cause you trouble," Jen said. "And Ariana pain."

"None of that is your fault," Wes whispered. "We can't help how we feel, can we? Now, let's head on back and see if the others have found anything."

He didn't let her hand go as they left the coffee shop and headed outside . . .