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Tommy
Tommy struggled against the putties as they wrestled him into a cell. He was frustrated at himself for letting them get the jump on him. But how was he to know to be on alert? It had been ages since this particular brand of henchman had commonly attacked Earth and Tommy wasn’t even a Ranger anymore.
They tossed him inside a doorway, and he tripped over uneven ground, losing his footing and going shoulder first into the stone wall opposite the cell door hard. He heard the whine of un-oiled metal against metal as the cell door was slammed shut.
With an annoyed huff, Tommy jumped up and hurried over to the other side of the cell, reaching through the bars to try to punch or grab either of the putties that hauled him in, but they were out of reach. As the pair disappeared around the corner, Tommy tried the cell door, hoping they maybe didn’t manage to lock it completely, but it was solid. He methodically circled his cell, testing every bar in the hopes of finding one that was weak or loose. No luck.
Tommy dropped back down against the stone wall, sitting on the dirt floor. He glared at the other three walls, all open metal bars, and felt a shiver run down his spine.
He recognized this cell, of course. Or, perhaps more accurately, he recognized several cells identical to it and knew perfectly well where they were all located. Despite wishing he could forget, Tommy did, in fact, clearly remember every moment that he’d been evil. Rita had taken him on a tour of one of these sections. There were several rooms, each containing just one cell for the prisoners too dangerous to put near others, but not dangerous enough to put in the alternate pocket dimension. And, Rita had told him at the time, they were particularly useful for isolating humans and watching them break without companionship.
He wondered who it was this time- Rita or Zedd or perhaps both together. He wasn’t sure why they wouldn’t just stay dead. “Like fucking soap opera villains,” he muttered to himself.
However, after straining for any sound beyond his cell and room for what felt like hours, it was not the clank of Zedd’s metal footsteps he heard, nor the swish of Rita’s voluminous skirts. Heavy footfalls tracked down the hallway to the door of his room, opening to reveal Goldar with a small battalion of putties trailing him.
“Look what I caught!” Goldar taunted, coming up to the bars. Tommy stayed put, hoping he’d move a bit closer. As it was, Goldar was standing just out of reach if Tommy were to jump up to the bars and reach out as far as he could. He didn’t bother responding to the taunt, biding his time. “The great White Ranger, caught by some left over putties.”
“What do you want, Goldar?” Tommy bit out.
“To watch you suffer, of course.”
Predictable.
“I hope you like your accommodations. I picked one of the coldest cells for you.”
“Wonderful.”
Goldar grinned, well, Tommy thought he grinned. It was hard to tell on a face like that. “I have a welcome gift for you.” Goldar motioned a putty forward holding a drab grey bundle of fabric. The putty tossed it into the cell through the bars, keeping out of Tommy’s reach and the little bundle of fabric landed near his feet. Tommy glared up at Goldar, daring him in his mind to come just a step or two closer, but the stupid monkey never did, vacating the room soon after with his putties in tow.
Once the door slammed shut behind them and he could hear their steps fading down the hallway, he poked at the fabric with his toe, recoiling quickly in case something inside grabbed at him. The fabric didn’t move. After another minute of stillness, Tommy kicked out at it again, but again nothing happened. He pulled himself up, muscles already stiff from sitting in the cold, and walked slowly over to the fabric, pouncing on it feet first and jumping several times, just to make sure it really was empty. Once he was confident that they’d just thrown a piece of fabric to him, he picked it up out of the dirt, shaking it out.
It was a blanket, not quite long enough to to cover him shoulder to foot, but enough that he could get under it if he curled up. It was thin and threadbare, looking old and heavily used. Tommy thought that might not be out of the question as it had the stench of body odor about it. He laid it out on the ground, hoping that it could air out a bit and not smell so bad and he sat back down again against the wall, hoping to use his own body heat to keep himself warm.
It only took an hour for him to decide that a barely serviceable, slightly smelly blanket was much more use around his shoulders than on the ground. He gave in, wrapping it around himself, praying that somehow his friends would figure out what happened and save him.
_____________
Tommy did his best to stay awake, but he couldn’t help but doze. With no windows in the room and no way to see out into the hallway, he couldn’t mark the passage of time. He heard no one pass his room. He tried to keep himself awake by attempting to recall the maze layout of the Moon Palace. He remembered that it only had three levels above the surface of the moon, but he couldn’t recall how many levels were underground... nine, perhaps ten? He knew that wherever the putties had pulled him through, they had dragged him up three levels. He wasn’t sure which level he had started out on, so he couldn’t be sure where he’d ended up. He couldn’t even be sure he was above the moon’s surface.
There had been seven hallways, at least, like the one his room was on, but there couldn’t be more than nine. When Rita had taken him on his tour all those years ago, she had only showed him one hallway like this. He’d stumbled over six others during his time being mind controlled, but he knew that this section of hall on other floors served as living quarters on the top most floor, an armory in the fourth basement, and storage on another. Plus, he knew that this same section on lowest basement level was full of cells lined up one against another for large populations of prisoners. So yes, Tommy was quite sure there couldn’t be more than nine floors like this, although that got him no closer, really, to figuring out where he was.
Or how long he’d been there.
Tommy thought it was probably hours later when he heard footsteps again. He was thirsty and hungry and stiff and sore. He quickly shook himself out, trying to be prepared in case he had a chance to attack and possibly free himself.
Goldar came again, three putties with him, all, again, keeping out of his range. One putty carried a sparse tray of food with a half full glass of water. “I brought you a gift.” Goldar grinned his creepy grin again and the putty put the tray on the ground, nudging it forward with a foot until Tommy could reach through the bars and grab the food.
He was tempted, but didn’t touch it, glaring at his captor. “I’m not eating it.”
“You must. It’s a gift.”
Tommy scoffed, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “You’ve probably poisoned it.”
“I wouldn’t do that. Torture’s no good if you’re dead. But if you want to starve yourself, do what you like. A putty will be back for the tray later.”
Goldar and the putties left, closing the door behind them and stomping down the hallway again.
Tommy sat himself down against the bars they’d put the tray nearest. It was only half full. There was an apple, already cut into slices and beginning to brown. There were a handful of almonds. There was a piece of bread. In the top right corner sat an empty little bowl and he wondered what the point of including it was. There was other blank space that seemed out of place, but Tommy couldn’t say why, other than that he thought it strange that everything on the tray wasn’t near the center, like most people would load a tray up. He kept glancing over at the half empty cup of water.
Tommy was hungry, but he was really thirsty. I can just try a tiny bit and if I’m still okay in a little while, I’ll drink the rest. He nervously lifted the cup, pulling it through the bars and sniffing at it. It didn’t smell like anything, which was something. He hesitantly took a tiny sip, just enough for the cool liquid to coat his dry tongue. It seemed like it was just water. He put the glass down on a level bit of ground and scooted away, determined not to drink more until he knew if it had any affect on him.
He waited. And waited. He counted to 100 in his head then backwards from there back to 1. Then he counted again. He wasn’t sure how long he waited, but it didn’t seem like anything was happening. So maybe not poison.
He scooted back over to the tray and glass. If the water wasn’t poisoned, the food likely wasn’t either. Goldar, after all, would probably have other ways to torture him. Still, he nibbled cautiously at the slice of plain bread, then ate the apple slices slightly more quickly. He sipped at the water, finishing it far too soon.
Then he heard footsteps again. He quickly gathered the half dozen almonds into his palm, just before Goldar and company entered the room again.
“Put the cup on the tray.” Goldar commanded him, eyeing the empty cup still inside his cell.
“Come and get it yourself.” Tommy challenged.
“Put the cup on the tray. Then move back. We only have one tray. If you don’t give my putties space to retrieve it, you get no more food and no more water.” Tommy stood firm, refusing to return the cup or to step back from the bars, and thus the tray.
“Fine then.” Goldar turned and left, his putty minions following.
There was a long, quiet stretch before they came again, Tommy again trying to goad them into his reach, but they left again. The third time they came, Tommy was too thirsty to argue and gave the water cup back.
_____________
Tommy was mostly sure that he’d been stuck in the cell on the moon palace for five days. At least, he’d been given five meager meals and he was assuming those were coming once a day.
He’d gotten used to the routine. One sparse meal with a half glass of water, then Goldar and the putties would come three times with just a half glass of water before the cycle began again with another little meal.
Tommy had begun to notice some pattern in his meal too. The tray was always set up the same, although roughly half of the items were missing from the tray at any given meal. The top left corner was reserved for a hunk of cheese, the top center for the slice of bread and the top right corner contained a bowl of broth. The bottom left corner was where the almonds would be placed, the bottom center was for slivers of carrot, and the bottom right corner was for the apple slices. Every other meal, there was broth in the bowl for him. Every meal, there were almonds - sometimes a half dozen, sometimes only three. There was less of a pattern with the carrots, bread, apple, and cheese- he was always given two, but there didn’t seem much rhyme or reason as to which two he got on any given day.
Every time he came with more food or the half cups of water, Goldar always said he that he’d brought Tommy a “gift.”
It all made Tommy uneasy. Five days he had been there and other than being annoyed, a little cold, hungry and thirsty, nothing had happened. Goldar had said he wouldn’t poison Tommy because it’d be more fun to torture him, but Tommy wasn’t being tortured, just slowly weakened.
The days continued on, and Tommy just hoped that his friends had noticed him missing and had guessed his Ranger past was to blame. He hoped they’d figure out where he was and how to rescue him, because he really had no idea how to rescue himself.
“I brought you a gift,” Goldar said on day ten. The putty put down the tray and everything was there except the piece of bread. The cup of water was nearly full. Somehow, this worried Tommy more than anything else had.
____________
It was getting colder. It had been for days. Even with his blanket wrapped tightly around him, Tommy was now rarely without goosebumps. He wondered how much longer it would be before he was too cold to function at all. He’d been fed twenty three times- he was keeping track in the dirt near the wall. Ever since his tenth meal, the tray almost always came with just one selection missing. As he waited for his twenty fourth meal, he hoped that there would be broth again today; he needed its meager warmth so much. Tommy felt bitter as he waited for Goldar and the putties to arrive and he was flooded with ire by the time they entered his room. There was no broth today.
“I brought you a gift.” Goldar said, as usual. Tommy lashed out, hungry, lonely, and cold. “Let me out.” He demanded. “Fight me, you coward.”
“I don’t have to fight you. You’re a prisoner.”
“You have no honor.” Tommy spit out, frustrated because he knew that such an accusation would do nothing to move Goldar.
“No honor?” Goldar laughed darkly. “If I had no honor, I would take the gifts you’ve been sent and dump them instead of bringing them here.”
“Gifts!” Tommy grit out, finished with Goldar’s game. “These aren’t gifts! This is barely keeping me alive so, what? So you can toy with me? So you can watch me starve slowly? Just get it over with. Fight me. Kill me!”
“Oh, but White Ranger, they are gifts. They just aren’t gifts from me.”
“What do you mean?” Tommy demanded but Goldar had already turned away, his putties filing out of the room behind him. “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?”
When Tommy had finally calmed, he plopped on the ground and pulled the tray over. He realized that there was a little broth left and he could see some sediment half dried sticking to the side of the bowl. Someone else had drank out of this. The varying amount of water in the cup every time water came, the different food missing on the tray, Tommy finally understood. This is someone else’s meal. They’re sharing it with me. They’re giving me almost all of it. Is someone else being held prisoner here too?
He spent hours yelling until he was hoarse. Pausing frequently and straining for a response. He never got one.
When his captors came back hours later with the cup of water, Tommy refused to drink it. “Give it to their person who sent it to me.” He’d whispered.
“Not how this works.” Goldar said, turning the cup over and emptying the precious liquid into the dirt. “If you don’t want it, I’ll get rid of it.”
Tommy always made sure to drink and eat every last bit of what his fellow prisoner forwarded on to him. Not that it was hard. He was always still hungry and thirsty afterwards.
_____________
Sometime before his 32nd meal, Tommy fell asleep shivering violently as the cell got increasingly colder day over day. But when he woke, his cell was a little warm. It was by no means comfortable, but he wasn’t shivering anymore, and the goosebumps died down as long as he had the blanket around him. Goldar entered with the putties and the tray of food- this time just missing the apple slices. “I brought you a gift.” Goldar said.
“It’s warmer in here than it has been.” Tommy probed.
“Another gift.”
A weight sunk low in Tommy’s stomach. He hoped that his fellow prisoner had only shared this extra warmth with him and that’s why the cell was just short of comfortable. But he knew Goldar. Tommy was almost positive that whoever his benefactor was, they were going without any heat at all.
_____________
The days marched on, and Tommy was increasingly informed that he’d received more gifts. Twice the corner he used for his own waste was cleaned. Both times he allowed himself to be held by putties under the threat that if he didn’t, the other prisoner would be harmed. Another day Goldar told him that his gift was not having his wrists and ankles chained. On several days, he received a full extra glass of water. He was granted some worn socks as the ground beneath his feet felt ever colder. One day, instead of the usual meal, he received a tray packed high with food, all steaming hot. Meat, bread, vegetables, a hearty soup, even the water had been warmed. Tommy noticed that unlike his usual meals, not a single sip of water or bit of food had been taken.
“A gift.” Goldar said. When Tommy asked why the other prisoner hadn’t eaten any of it, Goldar responded that the meal was special, an anniversary meal, and wasn’t allowed to be shared. The other prisoner had gifted it to him. It was his sixty-fifth meal, so it certainly wasn’t any type of anniversary he could think of. Tommy wondered just how long the other prisoner had been here.
Later, when his first glass of additional water came, it was less than a third full. Tommy drank it, wishing the other prisoner who’d not had a thing to eat had at least finished this entire glass. The next morning, the apples and piece of bread were missing from his sixty-sixth tray. At least they’d eaten a little more than normal.
_____________
Tommy’s sixty-seventh tray had just been taken away, he was starting to consider not keeping count... it depressed him to think of how long he’d been held here for, and he was already thirsty and looking forward to his next glass of water when he heard raised voices from far away. He held his breath and strained his hearing, closing his eyes tightly as if that would amplify what was happening floors below him. It sounds like a fight.
The putties were brainless, so it couldn’t be an uprising against Goldar. Tommy didn’t think there were other villains around either- it seemed to just be Goldar. So, a fight could only mean that a rescue party had finally come for him.
He tried to call out, but he’d yelled himself hoarse again the day before trying to tell the other prisoner to eat more, drink more. Still, he heard shouts and feet and faint hiya’s as they got closer. His voice inoperable, Tommy did his best to make noise, throwing himself against the bars for the dull thuds he hoped someone listening might just hear.
The fighting went on for what seemed like ages, the sounds not moving closer. They’re stalled out somewhere. Maybe Goldar was making his last stand. If they could just defeat him and the putties...
Another long stretch of time later, a cheer went up. Minutes later, he heard the now familiar sound of putty footfalls scampering down the hall, past his room, and away. Tommy threw himself against the bars a little harder as he heard unfamiliar footballs chasing after. “Hey!” He tried to yell, but only a bit came out, his voice cracking as his throat burned in protest.
“Did you hear something?” A muffle male voice said as another person shushed him.
Tommy, relieved to hear another human voice croaked out a sob and moments later Aisha in her Ninjetti garb and a blue Ranger Tommy didn’t recognize were standing in his doorway.
“Tommy!” Aisha rushed over to him reaching through the bars to grab his hand as he sagged in relief.
The other ranger had stepped back and seemed to be reporting to whomever else had come to save him. “On the second floor, walk away from that center staircase with Goldar behind you and there is a door three down on the left. Go through there and down that hallway and the last door on the right at the end is another staircase. Up there, immediate right at the top and there’s an open door half way down on the left with another hallway. Find the open door there and we’re here. He’s in a cell. We’ll need to cut it open if no one found keys.” He listened for a second, nodding along before saying, “yeah, have her come. He needs to be looked at. And he probably is going to need to be carried back.”
Aisha had removed her gloves and was rubbing at his bare arms with her palms, trying to warm him. He let her, basking in the contact after so long. “You’re going to be alright. We’re going to get you home. We’ll get you some food and warm clothes and everything is going to be fine.” Aisha was saying.
He trapped her hand between his arm and his own hand. “How long?” He tried to croak out, although the words never really made it out.
Aisha understood though. “You’ve been gone for a little over two months. Sixty-eight days, to be exact.”
“How...?” Tommy whispered next, but he wasn’t sure himself of what he was trying to ask. How did you find me? How did you get here? How is my friend who was with me when I got attacked? How are you getting me out? How are your Ninjetti powers strong enough to morph? How are we getting home?
“So, apparently,” Aisha began as if she was imparting some particularly juicy gossip, “your friend Hayley has suspected you of being a former Ranger essentially since you met. I’d give you shit for being so obvious, but it seems to have worked out for you. As soon as she woke back up, she raided your phone book to find Jason’s number, since you apparently talk about him the most. I’m insulted, by the way. You totally spent more time on a team with me than with Jason.” Tommy patted her hand. He could see Aisha’s relief and that she was sort of only barely holding herself together. “So, she confronted Jason and told him what she saw, so putties, obviously.” She cleared her throat and smiled sadly to him. “We figured out that the moon palace was a pretty likely place for you to be pretty quickly, but it took us a long time to figure out how to get here. We needed the Aquitar Rangers to help and it’s hard to get in contact with them. I’m sorry it took so long.” He patted her hand again, hearing more footsteps and voices moments later.
Several Rangers, some in uniform, some in regular clothes, both ones he recognized and those he didn’t, flooded into the room. Aisha waved over a Ranger in civilian clothing, giving her a rundown on his health. “Dehydrated. He’s weak and having trouble focusing his eyes on anything for too long. Something’s up with his voice. It sounds like he lost it after yelling, but maybe because of the dehydration? I see cuts and bruises too.”
She went to move away, but he grasped her hand in his. He was overwhelmed and Aisha felt like a lifeline. “‘Sha.” She squeezed his hand and held it, letting the other woman look him over as best as she could with bars separating them.
Behind him, Tommy could hear the other Rangers trying to cut the bars in various places. He heard Jason’s voice call out from behind him on an update of his health and the woman who had checked him over said he’d be alright, and they could take care of him on the ship, but she’d start an IV if getting him out was going to take a while. He held onto Aisha’s hand and waited, hoping that there were other Rangers searching the other cells for the prisoner who had kept him alive.
----------
Kim
She had heard the commotion. It seemed so far away, so far above her. She’d been knocked out when she’d been kidnapped so long ago and had no idea where exactly she was, although she thought she recognized the stone of the Moon Palace. Probably a good assumption with Goldar being her jailer, the putties assisting. You give them hell, she’d thought.
But the scuffle quickly grew fainter above her until it disappeared. I hope you get away.
She was disappointed when some time later Goldar strolled into her room. “I have a new game, Kimmie.” She didn’t respond. Through all her time here, she found it was just better to reserve her energy. Goldar didn’t care if she yelled or cried or sneered or taunted. It never changed anything, so it was better to just not respond.
“I picked up another prisoner today. From Earth. I wonder if you didn’t just hear him come in. He’s being settled in his cell.”
Kim continued laying on the dirt dusted stone floor of her cell, which she had worn smooth over time.
“I picked a nice cell upstairs. A nice cold one. It’s warm where he’s from on Earth, so I’m sure he’s so very cold,” He paused for a moment, looking for a reaction from her, but not getting one. “Ah, yes, I was going to tell you about my new game! I don’t like having to get you humans things to survive. It’s tedious. But I am used to the trip to feed you. So, I’ll keep doing that, but you two together have to share. Whatever you have left over, he can have.”
“You shouldn’t keep pets if you can’t afford to take care of them, Goldar.” She couldn’t help but snark.
“Think of him as your pet, Kimmie. You’ve gotten so dull. Let’s see who you’ll save. Yourself or him.”
“You got lucky picking me up, Goldar, and no one noticing. I can’t imagine someone not noticing a bunch of putties and a giant ass ugly gold monkey a second time. It’ll get to the Rangers. They’ll figure it out.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. So, your new pet is in the cold, and you have a blanket. Who gets to be warm?”
Kim sighed, knowing that she had no real choice, but upset to lose the only creature comfort she had. It’s not like it mattered much anyway. She’d been cold for so long that the blanket did nothing to help. She’d become numb. She pulled the grey, threadbare blanket off her boney shoulders, tossing it toward the bars. A putty retrieved it, rolling it up into a little ball and going to wait outside, Goldar leaving as well.
Laying on the smooth, hard ground, Kim felt colder without her blanket. She hadn’t even been aware she could feel anymore cold than she had before. She shivered.
_____________
The putties came a while later with her meal, Goldar, uncharacteristically following. She squirmed closer to the bars, towards the tray. “Remember,” Goldar singsonged, “your little pet only gets to eat and drink what you have left over.”
Kim took several sips of water, she had learned early on to drink it first in case they tried to take the tray before she was done. Then she carefully selected several items off the tray, quickly drinking down the broth, eating the bits of carrot, and holding the chunk of cheese close. She was upset to have to cut her already meager meal in half, but it couldn’t be helped. Someone was upstairs and needed the food and water just as bad. “He can have the rest.” She whispered. Goldar and the putties disappeared with the tray.
She was starting to feel thirsty and realized that water time had come and gone. Goldar appeared again. “Your little pet is being disobedient. But you know the rules. No more water or food until he puts the tray and cup back.” He went away again without waiting for any response from Kim. She was torn. On one hand, she understood fighting back, she had at first too. On the other, she was so very thirsty.
Goldar came back again, later, “so very disobedient.” Which, Kim took to mean no water again. On the last round of water before food, Kim was relieved that a full glass came back. She carefully only drank half.
As relieved as she was for the water, she was a little upset that he’d broken so quickly.
_____________
Kim could tell that Goldar was annoyed. Before he’d taken another prisoner, Goldar rarely visited her during meals or water, only coming to eye her naked body, run his cold, pointed metal fingers over her skin, or to taunt her about no one looking for her. She’d become used to it. She had, after all, been there a long time.
She’d tried to keep count of her meals at first. She’d gotten to thirty-two when she had broken down, angry and frustrated and thrown the tiny, softer rock that had worked as chalk out of her cell and her reach. She’d wiped furiously at the wall until all of the little lines had disappeared. She hadn’t counted for a long time after that. She’d eventually been bored enough to start counting again. That time she’d made it to eighty-nine meals, keeping a careful tally on a section of floor in the corner. On the ninetieth day, she decided that she just didn’t want to know, so she stopped adding tallies. It had been a long time, many, many meals since that day. She’d never begun counting again.
But now, with the new prisoner, Goldar seemed to expect something. So, in he came during all her meals. Following her leftovers out and upstairs.
He came in before her meal one day, as she was becoming accustomed to her newly reduced meals. “You haven’t asked what your pet’s name is.” Goldar said without prompting when she didn’t acknowledge him.
“I’m sure you’ll tell me when you want me to know.” Kim responded, trying to sound uninterested.
“I had him brought here, just for you. Tommy was always your favorite pet, wasn’t he?”
Kim’s breath caught in her throat. “You captured Tommy?”
“The White Ranger himself. I was disappointed. It was easy.”
“Then you really are a moron, Goldar. If the Ranger community keeps track of anyone, it’s Tommy. They’ll know he’s gone. They’ll come for him.”
“I’d like to see them try.”
When the putty came with the food, Kim drank only enough water to wet her mouth and only took the slice of bread. Tommy can survive this. But he’ll need strength. He has to get out.
_____________
Kim deteriorated quickly after that. She made a point of making sure she took as little as she could manage. Tommy was constantly on her mind, but everything outside of her head ran together. The gaps between meals and water seemed unendingly long and no time at all. She shivered day and night on the cold ground. The only moments she found herself aware and grounded at all was when Goldar would come in and press one of his metal nails hard into the stomach, saying, “Kimmie, it’s time for our game.”
She thought, after all this time, it couldn’t get worse.
But it did.
It was getting colder again, and Kim knew at some point, when she was on the edge of breaking, Goldar would heat her cell, ever so slightly. Except that he gave her the choice, her cell or Tommy’s. She picked Tommy’s.
It was time to clean her waste out of the corner. Her or Tommy? Tommy.
Socks? Tommy.
Goldar had come in one day with two lengths of chain. “You two have too much freedom to move around your cells. Who has to stay put?”
“Me.” Kim mumbled. The putties handled her roughly, grabbing at her feet and wrists, chaining her with the chains each circling one of the bars. The bars they had picked and the length of the chains only allowed her to curl her legs up towards her stomach with her arms stretched out above her head. Or, if she uncurled her body, she could tuck her elbows into her chest. She grew even colder.
When the putties came with the big tray of hot food, Kim was barely able to move and barely able to tell them to give it to Tommy. She was going to die, she realized. Soon.
_____________
She might have thought that she was dreaming the sounds of a far off battle, if not for the putties stampeding up the stairs from the machine that spit them out somewhere on the same floor. The Rangers had come for Tommy, obviously.
She wondered idly whether they might save her too.
She wondered if it would even be worth their trouble.
The lines of new putties eventually seemed to stop. The machine must have run out. She hoped the Rangers could hold up against so many.
She heard a shout a long while later, but it was so far off that she thought she might have imagined it. Kim tried to pull her arms closer to her body for warmth, making the manacles cut even more into her already chaffed and bleeding wrists. Please, let Tommy get out, she thought as unconsciousness pulled her under again.
_____________
When she woke again, she couldn’t hear anything. Her body told her that it had been far too long since she’d had water. She wondered if whoever had come was still there. They’d probably left. Did Tommy know I was here? Did he leave me here anyway?
She felt a sob building in her throat and opened her mouth to let it out, but no sound issued. No tears fell. She felt the sting of her lips cracking and tasted her own blood.
Please, don’t let me die alone. Please, be with me now. She was reaching for her Crane. She tried countless times throughout her captivity, but it had never worked. Her connection had always been too weak, and the Crane had never heard her.
This time, she felt the Crane’s presence in her mind.
She took comfort that at least she wouldn’t be alone.
“Take care of them,” she whispered to it, “all of them. But Tommy especially. He’ll need so much to heal from this.” In her mind’s eye, she reached out to embrace her Crane, feeling warmth for the first time in so long. She let herself float on the feeling of safety and let her eyes fall shut. Her Crane was screeching.
_____________
Tommy
It took several hours, but they managed to cut enough bars out for a few Rangers to climb in, lift Tommy, and pass him out to the others. He’d refused to let go of Aisha’s hand for more than a moment here and there when they had given him first aid and an IV of saline from across the bars, when they had passed him little bits of food, and when they had lifted him out. He’d yet to hear if his fellow prisoner had been recovered, so as he was carried down a hallway, Aisha by his side, he’d tugged weakly at her hand, so she’d bend down.
“Did they find them?” He whispered.
“Find who?”
“The other prisoner.”
Aisha shook her head, frowning. “There wasn’t anyone else on this floor, Tommy. Just you.”
He shook his head violently. “Lots of floors, lots of cells.”
Aisha looked perplexed. “I mean, we cleared the other two floors too, as best as we could. There are so many rooms...”
“Basements.” Tommy croaked out, struggling to get free of men carrying him. He squirmed enough to upset their hold and his feet were dropped. Tommy tried to stand, to walk the opposite way towards the areas he thought he remembered had stairs down to the lower levels, but Rocky and Jason tried to stand in his way. He was still holding Aisha’s hand.
“I have to... saved me...” He explained in a whisper to Aisha, asking her to make the two Reds move.
“Tommy thinks there are other prisoners.”
“One.” He huffed out.
“Tommy, we didn’t see...” Rocky began.
“He says there are basements.”
Jason and Rocky exchanged a glance. “We’ll poke around, call out, see what we can find, but you need to go back to the ship, Tommy.” Jason said.
“No!” Tommy grit his teeth. “I have to...”
“How would you even know if anyone is here if they weren’t close by?” Adam reasoned as he joined the group.
He was feeling impatient but realized that he didn’t have the strength to do the search on his own, let alone take on his friends. He turned to Aisha again. “Goldar gave them food, water, other things. I could only have the leftovers. The other one has barely been eating, giving me almost everything. Tried to yell, but they couldn’t hear me.”
“Couldn’t Goldar have just been playing you?” Rocky asked.
“Said torture.” His throat was throbbing and even whispering was getting difficult. “I think torturing them more than me.”
The others didn’t seem convinced, but Tommy wasn’t going to leave without rescuing the person who’d kept him alive, so he pushed forward, in between Rocky and Jason toward the door. They caught him, holding him back.
Then he felt Rocky’s hold on him drop, heard the groan from Adam, felt Aisha’s hand tighten around his, and heard a desperate screeching echoing through his head.
“Kim!” He called out, startled as his legs turned to jelly and he fell to the ground.
_____________
All the Ninjetti agreed that they heard the Crane, although the other Rangers were less convinced. The ‘should we look, or should we get the hell out of dodge’ discussion ended when a Yellow Tommy didn’t recognize pointed out that if it was possible that one of their own was there, they couldn’t leave her.
And since no one had seen or heard from Kim in three years...
Rocky and Jason supported Tommy around the palace as he directed them from one hall of cells to the next, moving further and further into the depths.
They’d made it through the first four levels of basement and the occasional cry of the Crane was getting weaker and weaker. Tommy was worried. He’d tried to be methodical in their search, but he was starting to feel that time was short.
He closed his eyes as he rested in a hallway, He squeezed Aisha’s hand. As long as the guys weren’t dragging him along, she was next to him. “My gut,” he told her, “says we need to go all the way down.”
Aisha nodded and Tommy knew she was barely holding together the worry for her best friend. “I think so too.”
So, he directed them to a door with a long staircase that doubled back on itself several times over as it sunk into the roots of the castle. When they came out at the bottom, Jason called out and they all held their breath waiting for an answer.
None came.
“We need to look around.” Aisha said. Tommy nodded his agreement, glad she had voiced it. Everyone spread out, each knocking in doors along the corridor to find uninhabited rooms. Jason and Rocky with Tommy between them, lumbered over to an open doorway a quarter of the way down the hallway.
The first two Reds gave a cursory glance over the long, dimly lit room before starting to back out.
But Tommy saw her, crumpled and wane and nearly blending in with the dirt at the edge of a cage further down the room. He struggled himself free of their grasps and stumble-ran past the other empty cells before dropping to the ground outside the bars.
Jason and Rocky, seeing what they had overlooked before, called over most of the others.
It’s her. Tommy thought, reaching out a shaking hand to her throat. There was a pulse, but it was slow.
“Help!” He cried out, his voice breaking. “Help! Help!”
Jason was pulling him back and he struggled forward again. Then Rocky was there too and Aisha.
“Medic needs space to check...” Aisha was saying as she pulled him back into her embrace.
“Hey! These might work!” Someone yelled, jangling a ring of keys as they sprinted into the room.
“She has a pulse.” Tommy tried to get out but didn’t think anyone heard him.
“Get him up to the ship.” Adam ordered some other Rangers, pointing at Tommy. “And get that saw that worked down here too, in case these keys don’t...”
Tommy held Aisha in a death grip. “Have to stay.” He whispered to her. “Have to know.” He reached out again, shuffling toward the cage. He grabbed for one of her hands and held on tight, even though her hands were slick and sticky. Blood.
__________
Stable, he’d been told, but she’s by no means out of the woods. Tommy ran the pad of his thumb over one of Kim’s hollow cheeks. She should be dead. We think the only thing that was keeping her alive was her connection to the one or another power she once held. We think some tenuous, remanent connection to the Power grid was sustaining her.
They had worked on stabilizing Kim for hours while he’d been held down by several Rangers in another room so they could give him IVs full of saline, iron, and antibiotics. But he’d just wanted to see Kim. He could deal with his own health and recovery later.
As soon as the other Rangers had come in to report on Kimberly’s condition and assure him that they’d done everything in their power, he’d demanded to be allowed to see her. After an argument, in which Tommy refused consent to continue receiving treatment unless he was allowed to do so in the same room as Kim, the others relented and Tommy was led down the hall to Kim’s room, where he now sat on a chair that had been brought in for him.
She looked awful. In harsh, full light, she looked even less substantial than she had wane and blending into the dirt of that dark cell. Tommy had to constantly reach out and touch her cheek, her shoulder, her fingertips, just to assure himself that she was still there and not a pure apparition.
At the foot of her bed, someone was droning through a list of her injuries, which Tommy was ignoring. He’d stopped listening after dehydration, severe malnutrition, anemia, several infections including... at which point he realized that they were trying to prepare him for her to not make it.
He wasn’t going to let her die. He was going to find a way to make her better, even if he had to nurse her back to health on his own.
“You should get some rest, Tommy,” Jason said to him from across Kim’s sickbed, waving the Ranger reading the litany of injuries off like one would swat at a fly buzzing around their head. The man stopped and scowled at Jason but didn’t resist when Adam ushered him out of the room. “Heal up.”
“I’m staying here.”
Jason frowned at him but nodded. “I’m not going to let her go without a fight either, you know.” Tommy didn’t answer and eventually Jason continued. “I have this sinking feeling...”
“Don’t you dare say it.” Tommy hissed.
“No! Not... not about that. I’m serious, Tommy. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she wakes back up. Once we get back to Earth, I’ll pull the whole command center apart if I need to to find something to help her. I just have this bad feeling that she’s been in that awful place since she disappeared after the tournament. I mean, no one’s seen her in three years.”
In his mind, Tommy tried to calculate the date, but couldn’t recall when he’d been taken, but the time frame seemed to fit enough. “God, I hope not,” he whispered, knowing that it was all too likely. How had they never noticed?
__________
Three years later
The thing about trauma, Tommy learned as he and Kim recovered, was that it never completely went away. It had taken him weeks of medication to feel better and months to get his body back to the state it had been in pre-kidnapping. Still, when it got a little too cool, Tommy’s joints froze up and his breathing got shallow until he could wrap himself in blankets and was toasty warm.
Kim’s recovery had been far slower. She spent two weeks in a coma, then several months bed-bound. They hadn’t been able to heal damage to her right leg, leaving her needing a cane on good days and completely unable to put weight on her leg on the worst days, but that seemed to be the most lasting of her physical trauma.
Mentally, they both still suffered.
For Tommy, most days were okay. He could spend several days in a row at work, hanging out with Kim and their friends, doing little things around the house, and never once think of his cell on the moon. But sometimes when a cold snap moved in and his skin began to prickle with goosebumps in that space between it being comfortable and just a bit too cold, Tommy’s brain seized up with the memories of being imprisoned. Even then, on these less-than-good days, he could pick up a larger than normal takeout order and cuddle with Kim in bed as they gorged themselves on food. Warm, together, with overfull stomachs, they could fall asleep. On the worst days, blankets bundled tightly around him couldn’t chase off the chill, food felt like chalk in his mouth, and Kim’s touch only vaguely reminded him that he was home. He was safe. On those awful days, only time and watching the weather change outside his window slowly grounded him again.
For Kim, few days were without the reminders of her time on the moon. Some days, with loud enough music, a rambunctious crowd of people surrounding her, or an engaging enough book, she could block the memories and tendrils of cold from gripping her. Most days, the house being just a bit too silent while Tommy was at work, a song coming on the radio she remembered listening too sometime before she was taken, glancing at a picture of their friends all together or one of her old gymnastics medals which reminded her of the cold, confusing months leading up to her kidnapping when she could feel constant eyes on her, like she was being followed, would lead to her freezing and getting lost in the fear and hopelessness. She could feel Goldar’s nails scraping down her torso. She could feel the cold of the stone floor leeching every ounce of warmth from her body. She could feel the hunger, hollow and burning in her stomach. Sometimes she’d come out of it on her own to see that ten minutes, or forty-five, or three hours had passed. Always disappointed with herself, regardless of the time lost, she’d turn up the music louder or call one of her friends if she knew they weren’t working to distract her thoughts. Sometimes she didn’t come out of her waking comas by herself, and she’d wake hours later to Tommy kneeling in front of her, gently coaxing her back to wakefulness. The very worst time had seen her stuck in her memories for two straight days and she’d woken wrapped in Tommy’s arms and every blanket in the house. For another day, they clung to each other, terrified and exhausted from their own nightmares and their fear for the other as they both traded off having their own trauma responses.
But today, today had been good. Kim had finally felt the urge to paint, something she hadn’t done since the before-times, despite the fact that Tommy had set up an entire room for her with blank canvases and paints and paper and all other sorts of craft-wares when they’d moved into this house two years ago. She’d spent hours, splattering a canvas with dark colors and shadows interspersed with slashes of gold. When, at lunch time, she’d stepped back from the canvas, it seemed covered in every fear, every dark moment, every memory of pain. And, for some reason, it calmed her mind. She’d spent the rest of the day folding laundry, changing sheets, and cleaning the kitchen, all in silence, for once not needing the noise to ground and distract her. Now, expecting Tommy home from work imminently, Kim eased herself down on a bench in the front hall, her hip and leg aching from all that she’d done that day.
One of the pictures on the wall caught her attention- her and seven other female rangers and Hayley, all grouped around a table having lunch. Kim had been sickly thin and confined to a wheelchair, only a week removed from being allowed to leave bed for the first time. It had been the first time she was away from Tommy for any really stretch of time. They hadn’t been dating again yet, both too raw from what they’d gone through, although each of them struggled to talk about what happened with anyone else. It was the first day she’d felt something akin to normal, listening to the girls gossip and complain about work or school, being teased about Tommy’s constantly calling to check on her and his pouting when they’d told him it was a girls-only lunch, passing around dishes of appetizers and entrees so everyone could try a little of each… it was a happy memory, a great day.
Lost in the happy nostalgia, Tommy closing the door behind him made her jump a little. In a flash, he was crouching beside her, eyes wide with panic. “Are you okay? Do you know what time you sat down?”
She smiled at him. “I’m fine. I just sat down a minute ago. My hip’s sore. I was here, just reminiscing, not lost. You just regular startled me,” she promised.
He dropped his left hand onto her right hip and began to massage at it, which left Kim groaning in relief. “Are you sure, Beautiful?”
“Yes, I just did a lot today. I finally went in and painted. It- it was good for me. It was a good day.”
The worry on his face eased as Tommy smiled at her. “That’s good Kim! Could I see what you painted?”
“Yeah, but not right now.” She pulled him close, kissing him gently. “I’d drag you to bed right now,” she whispered, “but that’s hard to do with the cane.”
Tommy’s answering grin was full and just a bit predatory. “Perhaps I should drag you to bed instead, then.” And with that, Tommy swept Kim into his arms and carried her upstairs as she giggled.
It was a good day, the best sort of day, and together they would make a great many more.