It had been a week. The pain had faded. The stitches would come out in another week. The swelling and soreness were almost gone; he could move his jaw enough to eat solid food again. He was strong enough to go back to work.

Eric stared at himself in the mirror. It was his first good look, the first time he had removed the bandage; but now he had to wash his face, and shave, and try to look presentable. As much as he could. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The stitches were black, stark against skin that was reddened and puffy and still looked raw. Such a bizarre sensation, looking at your own face after it had been sewed up like a piece of cloth. And these seams would always be with him.

He had never been particularly vain, but had always taken it for granted that good looks and a strong body were among the few advantages he had been born with. He would recover completely, given a little time, but the memory of being helpless and sick would always be with him. Especially with that face as a reminder. There would be scars, the doctors had warned him. ‘How bad?’ he had asked. They had only glanced at each other, not answering, and that was answer enough.

How bad... He leaned closer to the mirror. Deep cuts ran across the side of his face, across the cheek, one going through the corner of his mouth. The skin along his jaw had been torn, mangled, and the doctors had said some chemical in Venomark’s bite had damaged the skin further, leaving it thickened and distorted. At best, the marks would always be conspicuous and ugly, at worst -- he would be a freak... No pretty girl would ever automatically smile at the sight of him again, this would be the first thing people saw when they looked at him. For the rest of his life. Eric squeezed his eyes tight, shutting out the sight, clenching his fists as despair threatened to overcome him.

All because the Rangers had screwed up, had let it happen... maybe that wasn’t entirely fair, but he was in no mood for fairness, what had happened hadn’t been fair, damn it... And he had heard them, the yellow and green ones had wanted to help, they could have helped, but the red one wouldn’t let them. The new Ranger... not Wes, he was sure now, but with Wes’s face and voice. Did he have some long-lost identical twin or something?

Eric opened his eyes, forced himself to look long enough to wash and shave, and covered the wounds with new bandages as soon as he could. He had survived everything else. He could survive this, too.

“Hey, Trip, Katie. Lucas.” Wes made his way to the couch in their living area, greeted with half-hearted smiles from Trip and Katie, a glum nod from Lucas, a glance from Jen, and nothing from Alex. He sighed inwardly as he sat and tried to relax, feeling uncomfortable at having nothing useful to do now after a morning shopping trip, remembering other days, bright smiles, teasing, laughter.

It was Alex, of course. The guy was an incredible wet blanket. Always so serious, always working. Jen was dedicated, but Alex made her look like a party girl. Not for the first time, he wondered exactly why she had ever been attracted to him... How could a guy like that, with all the charm of a -- a piece of machinery, get a great girl like Jen?

Maybe he was biased. Probably. It was only since Alex had shown up that Wes had completely realized how he felt about her. That somehow, sometime during the last months, his feelings had gone from friendship and admiration to love.

Of course he knew it was hopeless. Even if she hadn’t been engaged, once Ransik was captured, once their mission was over, they would go back to their own time. He would never see her again. So maybe it was better that Alex had arrived. If Jen returned his feelings, if they were really together, losing her would be unbearable.

He saw Jen sigh and put down the instrument she had been working on. She got to her feet. “I’m going out for a run,” she said to no one in particular. “See you guys later.”

Wes watched her go, wishing he could go with her, but she had increasingly been silent and withdrawn lately, and he sensed she didn’t want company now. But Alex seemed to have a different opinion. After fidgeting for a few minutes, he got up too, mumbled something about getting fresh air, and headed out. Wes thought he could almost hear a sigh of relief from everyone left in the room.

“So, what are you guys doing the rest of the day?” he asked.

“I’ve got some work to do on our communicator. Thought I got it working, but I still can’t pick anything up.” Trip frowned. “Strange, it’s almost like no one at Time Force is answering.”

“I’m going downtown to finish up that filing job from yesterday,” Lucas said.

“And I’ll be minding the store,” Katie added. “What are you up to, Wes?”

“I dunno. Guess I’ll hang around here, in case we get any more work.”

“If Alex finds you here when he comes back, I’m sure he’ll find something useful for you to do.”

“Yeah, he can’t stand to see any of us just relaxing...” Wes hesitated. “You guys knew him before. Was he always like this? I mean...” He shook his head. “I don’t understand what Jen ever saw in him sometimes, no offense, I know you’re his friends...”

“I’m starting to wonder if we did know him,” Lucas said after a brief silence.

“Yeah,” Katie broke in. “Alex was always kind of serious, but not like this. He’s changed.”

“Something happened to him. Something bad. He doesn’t like to think about it,” Trip said softly, as they all turned to look at him. Trip was mildly psychic, and all of them had a great deal of respect for his hunches and feelings.

“What happened, Trip? And why won’t he tell us?” Katie asked.

“I don’t know. Just that he’s scared.” Trip’s eyes turned dreamy, seeing something the rest of them knew they couldn’t. “He wants to protect us... but he’s going to hurt himself... and Jen, she’s all confused...” His eyes turned suddenly to focus on Wes.

“Well, sure she’s confused,” he said, feeling unexpectedly defensive. “We all are.”

Lucas stood. “Sounds like we should cut them both some slack,” he said, looking down at Wes with an expression he couldn’t read. “And not -- interfere.”

“I’m not interfering with anything,” Wes muttered. Not that I wouldn’t like to, he added to himself.

She saw him with a quick glance, following her down Hillside Park’s jogging path, slowly catching up. Could hear him breathing as he got close enough, his footsteps pounding behind her. Jen made a face, not looking back, so he couldn’t see. Just like Alex, to follow her, but not to call out or stop her, or say he wanted to talk. No, he preferred to pretend she wasn’t even there, that he just happened to be out for a run, that she didn’t even exist…

She sped up, angry, wanting to leave him in her dust. But he matched her pace, and began to overtake her again, almost reaching her side. Jen ran even faster, harder, until she was beginning to gasp for air, wanting him to slow down and fall behind. How did this get to be a race? she asked herself ruefully as her legs began to burn. How did everything with Alex get to be a contest?

Finally, with him still right behind her, she slowed, ready to collapse, and fell into a walk, trying to catch her breath. As Alex came up beside her, she saw with a certain satisfaction that he was winded and sweating too.

“Nice run. You’ve stayed in shape,” he said rather breathlessly.

“Yeah. You too,” she answered grudgingly, not looking at him.

“Important. To keep physical condition.”

“I know.”

They walked on, until Jen felt ready to stop and stretch out her muscles. Straight-legged, she bent to touch the ground, then into a lunge position for her calves. Alex watched her for a moment, then copied her. When she was done, Jen started back on the park pathway through the trees towards the clock tower, leaving Alex to catch up.

“Jen, wait,” he finally said.

“What?”

“I think we need to talk.”

“What about?”

“You’re obviously uncomfortable with this situation.”

“Why would I be uncomfortable about anything?”

“Jen, don’t do this.”

She heard a tone almost of pleading and looked at his face, finding it for once open, revealing an expression of such sadness that compassion melted her anger away. “Alex,” she said, stopping to face him. “I -- of course I’m uncomfortable.” She hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Ever since you came here, I -- I feel like I don’t know you anymore. You’re always so -- so closed up. You’re different, and the way you’ve been treating all of us... I’d really like to know what happened to change you like this.”

“Ransik happened. I almost died.”

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?” She paused, but he didn’t answer. “We loved each other. Can’t you-”

“Loved?” Suddenly his voice and face were hard and cold, his eyes sharp as they seemed to pierce through her. “Since when is it past tense?”

“I meant love -- we love each other…”

“I think you had it right the first time. And maybe we should get it out in the open. It’s Wes, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. All those months when I was lying in a hospital bed, the two of you were…”

“That’s not true! Wes and I are just friends.”

“He certainly thinks of you as more than a friend.” Alex’s eyes narrowed, his tone almost thoughtful now. “I’m not sure about you… but maybe it’s natural. I show up when the bunch of you were obviously having a good time, and ruin everything by wanting to concentrate on our mission, by making you give up command…”

“That’s not fair! We were working hard to beat Ransik! And I don’t notice that things have gone any faster with you here!”

“Maybe if I got some cooperation, they would!”

“Fine, sir, whatever you say.” She turned away from him and started walking stiffly.

“Jen… Shit!” She glanced back, almost amused despite her anger. It took a lot for Alex to curse. He trotted a few steps to catch up and walk beside her. “Jen, we shouldn’t be fighting. Whatever problems we have mustn’t interfere with the mission.”

“The mission,” she retorted, annoyed, frustrated, and somehow hurt and disappointed. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it?”

“No, that’s not all. But it’s more important than us, or Wes, or anything else. More important than you know…” He trailed off.

“I know how important it is. But it’s not the only thing I can think about.”

He smiled, reached out, brushed gentle fingers over her cheek. Just for a moment, the old Alex was back, the one who loved her, the one she still loved. He seemed to hesitate before he said, “Look, when this is over, we’ll work all of this out.”

“I hope so,” she muttered, disappointed again. “I -- I think I’m going to stay out here for a while, if you don’t mind.”

She thought she saw another shadow of sadness flicker across his face. But all he said was, “Sure. See you later.”

There was a bench only a few steps away. Jen sat in the shade of a large tree, watching Alex walk away, seeing how his shoulders slumped, as if he felt defeated. For a moment she wanted to go after him, to rub those tired shoulders, and hug him, and tell him everything would be all right, that she still loved him and always would. But she wasn’t sure if it was true.

Another face had begun to intrude on her dreams, to come between her and the love and loyalty she still felt for her fiancé. Alex’s face, but with blond hair… Jen bent her face down, ashamed of the tears that suddenly sprang into her eyes. It was only because of the circumstances, that must be it. Wes was fun to be with, he made her feel good, made her laugh, while Alex, now, always made her angry, or sad, or even afraid.

Which one? Which one did she love? Both, she knew with a sudden clarity. Both, in different ways. But that left her with an even more difficult, and more troublesome question. For the moment she only wanted to stay there among the trees, alone, wished she would never have to go back to face the choice she sensed she would someday have to make. Which one did she love more?

The prison ship was so empty, now. Nadira reflected that she hadn’t realized how much her father’s presence had filled it. How much he had filled her life. Like the ship, she felt empty without him, echoing, no purpose and no future. And frightened, knowing she was stranded here, with only Conwing to protect her. Right now, all she wanted was to go home. But, she realized, there would be nothing there for them, except jail for her father, and perhaps for her. Not unless they stayed, and finished what they had come for. It was what Ransik would have wanted.

“We could wake him up,” she said. “He’d know what to do.”

“No. He’d be sick, too sick to think straight. And he’d weaken fast. We’ll only wake him in an emergency. As a last resort,” Conwing’s voice answered from behind her.

She sighed, her eyes on the containment unit that held Ransik in cryogenic suspension. Such a small prison, for such a large man. That small, round metal bottle, her father inside, shrunken, frozen in endless sleep... It made her shiver just to think about it.

She and Conwing had spent hours searching, going through the ship, looking for some hidden, forgotten vial of serum. But there was nothing, Ransik had been too careful to leave any of his life-saving medicine lying around. If he had, they wouldn’t be in this fix. But now... he was worse off than all those humans who had been scratched or bitten, they had all gotten the treatment, they were cured, and didn’t have to worry... they could even get more serum, if they needed it... and that was when it hit her.

“Wait!” she exclaimed. “The serum! Bio-Lab made the serum!”

“I know. But it’s all under lock and key now. On the television it said they took what was left back from the hospitals. We can’t exactly go walking in and ask for it.”

“We have to get it! Daddy would go and take it!”

Conwing was smiling as she turned to look at him, that smile that always left her feeling chilled. “I have no doubt your father would simply attack Bio-Lab with a horde of cyclobots. Even if I wanted to do the same, the cyclobots won’t obey me.” He was silent for a few moments, gazing at her before going on. “I prefer a more subtle approach, one that may get us more than a few tubes of serum.”

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Yes, I’ve been considering a plan. We’ll need inside help. And I think I know who might be persuaded to do it. As soon as it’s dark, I’ll ‘invite’ him to pay us a visit.”

It was evening as Alex stood at the window of the clock tower, looking out over the city. How many times had he stood here, just watching? It was beautiful, especially now, as the sun was setting, the sky lit with shades of red and orange. Some cynical corner of his mind remarked that the colors were the result of the pollution that was still a problem in the 21st century, a problem that had been solved in his own time. Yes, they had clean air -- but had lost this beauty...

What is it like now? He closed his eyes, seeing it all over again, that ripple of change running through the very fabric of reality, leaving a landscape of horror. It was up to them to make sure that reality never happened. Even if it cost their lives... And he knew there was every chance that it would.

Jen... if only he could talk to her, really talk, tell her everything, how afraid he was, how sick with fear and dread, how he wanted sometimes to give up, to just run away, the two of them, run away and hide somewhere, be safe, live out their lives together here and now. But of course she would never do it, she would say they had their duty to do. And he knew she would be right.

The end of the day, what felt like a very long day. Eric pulled over in front of his house and parked in the lengthening shadows at the side of the street. He had seldom been so glad to get home. A long day spent realizing how weakened he still was, as he found himself unable to finish his usual workout. A day full of pitying and curious glances, eyes quickly averted, everyone wondering what those bandages were hiding.

At least he could be alone for the night, no one to stare at him, no one to feel sorry for him. Except himself. With a sigh, Eric told himself to stop this mental whining, get inside, get some sleep, and get on with it. Things could be worse... But the dark thought came again, the anger; it was their fault, the Rangers were responsible for this. Even Wes. He told himself it wasn’t fair, but he was in no mood for fairness this night.

He was standing at his door, reaching for his keys, when it happened. A movement, quick and silent; he had been too tired to be fully alert, just caught it out of the corner of his eye when it was already too late. No time to cry out as he was grabbed from behind, as he got the impression of an impossibly strong arm around him, pinning his own arms to his sides, a white hand coming up, holding a cloth over his face, the unmistakable smell of chloroform, before everything tilted and darkened into blackness.