Eric figured it was only moments later when he opened his eyes to darkness and smoke. He was lying in a pile of rubble, demorphed, his left arm and leg on fire with pain. Pushing aside the debris lying on top of him, he tried to get up, only to fall as his leg gave way. After a few moments of rest he tried again, pulling himself clear and managing to get to his feet. The Q-Rex loomed over him, heavily damaged. There was no sign of the Dragon.

Eric raised his morpher. “Q-Rex!” he commanded. “Retreat. Repair yourself.” The machine obeyed, slowly moving away, still in its walking mode. Eric realized he was in no better shape, no bones seemed to be broken, but his arm was deeply cut and his knee was painful, unable to take his full weight. His uniform was ripped and dirty, the beret gone. He ignored the assortment of minor cuts and scratches on his face and body.

And he was still in trouble. A small group of cyclobots had approached, and began an attack before he noticed them. A blaster burst barely missed him, forcing him to leap aside and land bruisingly against a car. They rushed forward. He fought back, landing a few solid kicks and punches, and taking several in return, before they picked him up and threw him onto the car. Rolling over the hood, he landed hard on his back, rolled over and found himself completely unable to get up. With a snarl of defiance he looked up at the advancing cyclobots.

“Eric!” A voice shouted his name. Wes’s voice, followed by Wes himself. He dashed between Eric and the cyclobots, kicking two of them down before they had a chance to react. The struggle was brief and violent, but Wes succeeded in driving the robots back. Eric had managed to climb back to his feet by leaning on the car and used his blaster to finish them, but more were visible in the distance. Wes ran to his side and slipped a supporting arm around his body, which Eric was forced to accept.

“I was doing just fine on my own, thanks,” Eric growled as he held on to Wes’s shoulders and they limped away.

“Right,” Wes replied with only a hint of sarcasm.

They turned into the first alleyway they found that was empty and offered concealment from the bands of cyclobots roaming the streets. Wes propped Eric against a wall and let him go. He slid to sit on the ground.

“Stay there,” Wes said. He went to the end of the alley and looked out. Eric took advantage of the brief respite to try to get in contact with the Silver Guardians. There was no answer, and after a couple of attempts, he put the headset away.

Wes came back to him and asked, “How bad are you hurt?” He started to inspect Eric’s wounds.

Eric brushed his hand away. “I’m fine. You should get back to your friends.”

“No. They’re gone. Back to their own time,” Wes said, his face showing his unhappiness. “From now on, it’s just you and me.”

Eric stared at him in surprise and dismay. He hadn’t much liked Wes’s teammates, but they hadn’t impressed him as the types to run out in a crisis. “So your friends deserted you,” he said. “That shows what teamwork gets you. I’ll stick to working alone.” He pushed himself up against the wall and tried to walk, but at the first step his knee gave out, sending him collapsing to the ground again. Unwillingly, he groaned aloud. Easing himself into a sitting position, he rubbed his knee as Wes moved to sit next to him.

“First of all, my friends didn’t ‘desert’ me, I had to trick them into leaving, to save their lives,” Wes said angrily. With a glare he went on. “What is it with you, anyway? I’ve never done anything to you except try to be your friend. I’ve taken your shit, and I’ve tried to be nice to you anyway. But you still don’t want anything to do with me.”

Eric didn’t know exactly why he answered that so honestly. Maybe it was only the resentment he still felt toward Wes. Maybe it was because he thought they would both be dead soon. Maybe he had even started to trust Wes a little. In any case, he found himself talking.

“My ‘friend’. You don’t know the first thing about me, Wes. I had nothing. I was poor, and alone. And I have struggled for as long as I can remember to pull my life out of the gutter. No one helped me, no one cared about me, not even for one minute.” He faced Wes and went on. “You’ve had everything handed to you, your whole life. And you don’t even appreciate it. You and I have nothing in common.”

He saw Wes wince slightly at the bitterness in his voice. But a moment later Wes crouched beside him, his face determined. “No,” he said. “We may have grown up differently, but we have a lot in common. We both fought to change our lives, and we both succeeded.” Eric started to turn away, but Wes grabbed his hand and held their left wrists -- with the morphers -- together. “Look at this! We are Power Rangers, Eric. And friends or not, we’re the only hope this city has right now. We have to work together, whether you like it or not.”

As he looked into Wes’s face, his own honesty forced Eric to admit that he was right. At this moment, in this struggle, they needed each other. And despite their differences, just maybe they had a shot at being friends. If they both lived that long.

“Okay. Any ideas on what we do now?”

Wes nodded and stood up. “We can go to the clock tower. It should be safe. And there’s some medical equipment there we can use to fix your leg.”

Eric nodded and held out his arm to let Wes help him to his feet.

It wasn’t a long walk, but between Eric’s injuries and the necessity of avoiding cyclobots, it was dark before they reached the clock tower. When they did, neither noticed a lone cyclobot that watched them go inside and then hurried away to report to its master.

They climbed the stairs slowly. Eric didn’t complain, but he was pale, breathing hard, and grimacing with pain before they were halfway up. Wes supported as much of his weight as he could, and ended up almost carrying him.

It was dark, empty, and quiet inside the clock tower where Wes had spent so many months with his friends. He felt their absence sharply as he and Eric limped into the main room, still littered with their equipment scattered around. Even Circuit was quiet after Wes told it to stop its almost continual warnings of cyclobot activity in the area. The power was out and Wes had to find some candles before he could see to Eric’s injuries.

Half an hour later he finished bandaging the cuts in Eric’s arm. He had used the Time Force medical unit to treat Eric’s most serious injuries, so now at least he could walk without pain. But he would still be weak for a few days. A few days they didn’t have.

“Thanks,” Eric said. He stood up, momentarily resting his hand on Wes’s shoulder before walking a few steps away. He had discarded his ruined Silver Guardian jacket and started to put on his equipment harness over his torn black tee-shirt.

“Eric, you’re still pretty badly hurt. You need to take it easy,” Wes told him.

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Eric answered in a tone of resignation. “When the time comes I’ll still have to fight.”

Wes couldn’t argue. He sighed and said, “Yeah.”

Eric crossed to an armchair and sat heavily, visibly trying to relax.

“Can I ask you something?” Wes said after a few moments.

“Sure.” Eric leaned back and looked at him.

“It’s kind of personal.” Eric’s impatient expression told him to go on. “Don’t you have a family? You’ve never mentioned them. What happened to your parents?” When there was no response he added, “If you don’t want to talk about it I understand.”

“No, it’s okay,” Eric leaned forward and looked down at his hands, and started to talk in a flat tone.

“My dad knew I wasn’t really his kid. He and Mom were both a hundred percent pure white trash, and I’m… not.” He indicated his unmistakably Asian eyes. “Dad called me a ‘little bastard’ every day of my life. And he liked to smack me around, to get even I guess. Mom was too busy getting high and screwing every guy in sight to notice, or care. When I was nine Dad took off. A few months later Mom dumped me in a bus station and disappeared. I don’t even know if they’re alive or dead.”

He looked up at Wes’s face and smiled faintly. “Don’t look like that. There’s a lot of people with worse stories than mine. Besides… now you know I really am a bastard.”

Wes felt sick. “Eric, I’m so…” he mumbled.

“Don’t say it.” Eric cut him off softly. “I swore to myself a long time ago I’d never feel sorry for myself. And I’d never let anyone else feel sorry for me. I can stand a lot of things, but I can’t stand pity.”

“Is that why you got so mad at me in school? Because I felt sorry for you?”

“Yeah. I guess it wasn’t fair to you. And I guess part of it was… envy. You don’t know how lucky you are, Wes. Your father may not be a saint, but he loves you. And you’ll never have to worry about being out on the street, or having enough to eat, or having a future.” He stood and restlessly walked a few steps across the darkened room. “Assuming either one of us has a future after tonight.”

“What happened to you after your parents... left?”

Eric shrugged. “In and out of a few foster homes and orphanages. I had… ‘behavioral problems’. So no one wanted me around for long. Then I got the scholarship to prep school.” He hesitated for a moment before going on. “I dropped out because the scholarship was cut.”

“I thought you left because you hated it!”

“I did hate it. But I would have stayed if I could. I’m not enough of an idiot to pass up an opportunity like that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What would you have done? Asked Daddy to pay my bills? I don’t think so. And I wouldn’t have taken your charity.” When Wes had no response he went on. “After that I got my GED and enlisted as soon as I turned eighteen. When I got out of the service I signed up with the Silver Guardians. And that’s it. Story of my life.” After a moment he added, “I think you’re the first person I’ve told all of that to.”

“I’m glad you did.” It explained a lot. Wes wondered what it must have felt like to grow up knowing no one had ever really loved or wanted you, and turned away to hide his face.

Turning back to the old picnic table, he stared at the stack of Polaroids still lying there. It was hard to believe they had been taken only a few months before. It felt like years. They had all looked so happy…

Eric’s voice came from behind him. “I guess you’re lucky to have friends like that.”

“I think so.”

“How do you know they’re all right?”

“I don’t.”

There was a sharp shattering sound. They looked up to see broken glass spray from the windows. And cyclobots began to leap in. Wes and Eric ducked instinctively and looked around for a way out, but the cyclobots were everywhere, coming in through the windows and the stairway. In seconds they were surrounded. Briefly they stood back to back, then leapt apart as a robot charged them. A moment later they were in separate fights.

Wes avoided a couple of punches and rolled back over the picnic table. A cyclobot jumped on him, and he kicked it off, throwing it into two of its comrades. He saw Eric draw his blaster and fire at his attackers, only to have the weapon struck out of his hand. Eric dashed up the stairs to the balcony, kicking aside the robots that tried to stop him.

Three cyclobots charged Wes as he got up, lifting him off his feet and throwing him into a pile of boxed equipment. Rubbing his shoulder where it had struck a corner, Wes sat up, his eyes falling on a small chest that had sprung open -- and its contents.

“Turbobooster!” he exclaimed. It took only a moment to grab the weapon. Wes stood up with a ferocious grin, and saw the cyclobots fall back.

On the balcony, Eric seemed to be in trouble. Wes watched, unable to help, as two cyclobots bounced him off the wall and then threw him at the railing. Eric hit the rail with his back, hooked his arms around it and neatly spun head over heels, stepping back onto the balcony to grab the two luckless robots and yank them over the edge.

Wes turned his attention back to his own opponents as the cyclobots resumed their assault. He blasted several, turning in a tight circle to sweep the room. Running to the stairs, he went partway up and turned to fire at the mass of robots coming after him. He continued to fire as more cyclobots poured into the room.

Wes heard a cry and turned to see Eric fall from the balcony, landing on the picnic table. As he rolled off with a groan Wes sprang between him and the cyclobots rushing to the attack. Eric spotted his blaster on the floor and grabbed it, firing a few shots to help drive back the robots.

“There’s too many, Wes! We have to get out of here!”

“I have an idea.” Wes looked up at the bell hanging overhead. They were next to the post the bell rope was tied to. “Think you can morph for a few seconds?”

“I guess so.”

Wes fired a last blast at the cyclobots around them, and quickly adjusted the Turbobooster’s controls, mentally thanking Jen and Trip for insisting he learn everything about their equipment. He threw the weapon into the middle of the room. It began to emit a whine as energy built up to an overload.

Wes gripped the bell rope, pulled Eric’s arm to it, and asked with a smile, “Now do you need my help?”

Eric caught on fast. With a fierce grin, he grabbed hold of the rope and said, “Going up!” It took only a quick shot from the blaster he held to cut the rope.

Then they were hanging on for their lives as the rope yanked them up, feeling like it would pull Wes’s arms out. With considerable admiration he saw that Eric was holding on with one hand while firing at the robots with the other. The rope lifted them up and across the room, directly for the huge clock face in the tower wall. At the last second, Wes let go and tapped his morpher, hearing Eric shout into his at almost the same moment.

Morphed, they flew through the shattering glass safely. Behind them, the clock tower exploded in a massive burst of fire and energy. As they fell the TF Eagle swept in, allowing Eric to drop perfectly into the cockpit. An instant later it swerved to catch Wes. He settled onto his familiar seat on its wing as they flew toward Bio-Lab.

“My cyclobots!” Ransik roared as he and Nadira watched the clock tower burst into flames and the two Rangers disappear in the darkened sky. “Follow them! Find them!” he shouted at the cyclobots surrounding them.

“Wait, Daddy…” Nadira clutched at his arm. “Their home is gone. Isn’t that enough?”

“It will be enough when they’re dead!” Ransik raged.

“But part of the city is destroyed. You’ve gotten your revenge on Frax. Can’t we just go home now?”

“The job’s not done yet. I want Bio-Lab so damaged it can never recover.”

“But what about what Frax said?”

“I don’t care what that creature said! Now shut up and come on!” Gripping her arm painfully, he dragged her with him.

Dawn broke over a city still in a state of war. Cyclobots roamed the streets under skies dark with smoke. Wes and Eric had found Bio-Lab headquarters also under attack and had done what they could to help. With the National Guard arriving to join the police, firefighters and Guardians, they had finally been able to secure the building.

Alan Collins was nowhere to be found. All Wes could find out was that he had gone into the city the night before and had asked a few Guardians if they had seen the Rangers. Wes knew he was looking for him. Now he and Eric set out to search.

It was the worst experience of Wes’s life. The streets were choked with rubble and abandoned cars. Fires still burned here and there, and everything was covered with dust and ash. It was eerily quiet, in an area normally buzzing with activity, except for the occasional sound of fighter jets screaming overhead. They destroyed several bands of cyclobots, and helped victims the rescue workers had not reached. And they found a few bodies.

They were wandering aimlessly, too tired and numbed to talk to each other, when they heard the shout. Wes instantly recognized his father’s voice, and they ran toward it, to find Collins, his expensive suit coated with dust and dirt, facing a small group of robots, which were closing in on him like a pack of wolves.

Wes and Eric morphed and charged, leaping past Collins to attack the robots. They had no time or energy to waste; they simply blasted the cyclobots as quickly as they could. With the brief fight over, they turned back to Collins and demorphed.

“Wes! Eric!” Collins greeted them joyfully.

“Dad! What are you doing here? It’s too dangerous to be walking around alone.”

“I was looking for you. I’m so glad you’re all right.” Collins stepped forward and caught Wes in a tight hug. Intensely relieved, Wes returned the embrace. Standing next to them, Eric watched, then looked away.

What happened next was so fast and violent; Wes had no way to react until it was too late. He heard Eric shout, “Watch out!” As he turned he saw one of the cyclobots they had shot sitting up and aiming a blaster at them, just before Eric jumped in the way and fired at it. It fired in the same instant, hitting him squarely. Wes tried to push his father down as the energy burst blazed around Eric’s body, cringing as he heard an agonized scream, a sound that seemed to go on forever.

Then it was over. For just an instant Wes thought Eric was all right, as the energy flash disappeared and he continued to stand. But then he fell hard to his knees, and collapsed backwards limply. Wes and Collins scrambled to catch him before his head hit the pavement.

Wes quickly saw that Eric was still alive and conscious, but gasping with pain and shock. “We have to get help for him,” he said.

“He’ll be taken care of,” Collins said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Wes looked up at a sound, fearing more cyclobots. But it was a Silver Guardians car, making slow progress down the cluttered street in their direction. Standing up, he waved at them and got an acknowledging wave. He knelt next to Eric again.

“You’re going to be okay.”

“Sure,” Eric answered hoarsely.

“Dad, Eric, you’ll be safe now. I have to go. I have to help clean up the cyclobots, and figure out what I’m going to do when the Dragon comes back. I’m going back to the clock tower, to see if there’s anything left I can use.”

“Wes…” Collins looked at him, hesitating, then said only, “Be careful, son. I love you.”

“Me too, Dad. And you… take care of yourself.” Wes squeezed his father’s shoulder briefly, looked down at Eric and started to get up.

“Wes,” Eric said, his voice strained. “You can’t go alone.”

“I have to. Don’t worry.” Wes laid a hand on his chest for a moment and then started to stand up again.

“Wait… wait.” Eric grabbed at his sleeve to pull him back. He raised the Quantum morpher to his face, and said, “Deactivate voice identification.” A moment later he said, “Confirm.” The display flashed. He removed the morpher from his wrist and held it out to Wes. “Take this. It’ll lock on to your voice now. If anything can give you a chance against that thing, the Defender and the Q-Rex can.”

Wes took it slowly. He knew better than anyone -- except Eric himself -- exactly how much this sacrifice meant. Eric’s hand was still held up to him, and he grasped it tightly, the memories of all the angry words and deeds from the moment Eric had rejected his handshake months before receding into insignificance. Silently, he released Eric’s hand, touched his father’s shoulder again, and ran in the direction of the ruined clock tower.