Finding Voice

Finding Voice

By: M14Mouse

Summary: Theo couldn't sleep. That gives him plenty of time to think over today's events. Spoilers to Ghost of A Chance.

Disclaimer: Don't own them…at all. How sad.

Many thanks to Chelle for reading this for me.

Slowly, Theo crawled out of his hammock and let out a yawn. Damn it. He couldn't sleep and he had to work tomorrow. Quietly, he walked down the stairs and onto the training mats. Theo sighed as he sat down on the mat. He folded his legs into Indian style. It has been one of those days. One of the days you wonder why in the world you got out of bed. Dai Shi…RJ getting captured…Forbidden Room…Master Mao…The old masters...singing.

He shivered slightly at thought of that.

He really, really didn't want to think about that right now.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was going to mediate. Hopefully, it would clear his thoughts enough for him to get some sleep.

Don't forget that Fran knows you're power rangers now.

He scowled his sub conscience for bringing that up. He could only imagine how work is going to be tomorrow.

Maybe, he would get lucky and Dai Shi would attack.

Uhh…maybe not.

Maybe, he should mediate and not think about it.

He shook his head and took another breath before trying to clear out his head again. After a few minutes, his thought drifting to wondering if his new book he was reading had a sequel, or if anyone put away the cheese.

With a groan, he fell back onto the mat. He opened to his eyes and stared out of the window. There a few stars shining through the city lights. It was the one thing he missed about the school. You could go outside and stare at countless stars in the sky.

He groaned softly to himself.

He couldn't sleep. He couldn't mediate. But he sure in hell thought too much.

He doubted that Master Swoop's techniques would help tonight either.

He let out another sigh.

It was a night like, this but colder. He was only six at the time. His family went to this small church on the hill. It has this small graveyard in the back. He remembered the other kids telling ghost stories about it. None he really believed until started school. Inside, there was this beautiful stained glass window on the ceiling. He spent a good bit of his time courting it. It had 265 pieces of stained glass. It had 54 reds, 46 greens, 35 yellows, 17 oranges, 88 blues, and 25 whites.

The thing he remembered the most…was the singing.

For some reason, the church had this time-honored tradition of torment small children by having them sing in front of the church. Once you hit six or seven, you were chosen to sing in front of every one. Guess what? That day was his turn. A week ahead of time, his mom drilled the song into his head. If he remembered right, he had trouble with the song. He couldn't quite get it right. It was annoying to say the least.

The night of the torment of small children, his mom dressed him in this short sleeve blue-stripped shirt. Never mind it was in the middle of winter and more likely than not to freeze his butt off. But his dad took pity on him and wrapped him in one of his jackets. He remembered looking at the car's window as they approached the church. It seemed creepier and darker at night. They pulled into the parking lot and quickly got into the church.

He remembered the pastor talking but he couldn't remember a word he said. There was singing too…thankful not by him…yet. His parents kept sitting and standing up which drove him nuts because they made him get up and sit down as well. Couldn't they make up their minds?

After all of the singing, standing, sitting, and talking, his mom dragged him up to the front of the church. His mom made him stand right in the middle of the stage. He remembered the piano starting to play.

He remembered just staring at the people. So many people and all of them staring right back at him. His mouth began so dry. He felt his stomach dropped and twisted into slow knots. He wanted to bolt from the stage and hide but his feet wouldn't move.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

People just stared at him.

His eyes searched for his mom and dad. Mom was doing something with her hands.

People started to cough.

He wanted to throw up.

People started to whisper.

He wanted to run away.

Piano started playing again.

He had trouble breathing and his body was just shaking.

His mom started to approach him.

The ground looked awful close to him. Then he remembered nothing.

Mom said that he blacked out. Then she said that he would try again another time. Oh, he made sure that he would never do it again. There was always some excuse or something else going on. Every time, his mom or dad brought it up…he would change the subject.

That didn't last long…did it?

Master Mao came and….

He sighed to himself as he shook his head from the memories.

Never in a million…did he think would he have sing again. He chuckled to himself. It wasn't in the handbook that students had to be the singers. Thank God, because Lily would have failed too.

But…he faced it and is a stronger person for it. Not that he would go out of his way to sing in front of people now. But it doesn't have the same grip on him as in the past. I guess that is what the Masters were trying to teach them.

He let out a yawn.

Finally, he felt sleepy enough to go to bed.

He got up from the mat and head up stairs to his bed.

He crawled into bed and wrapped himself into his blankets.

Slowly as he drifted off to sleep, a thought popped into his head.

RJ better not get captured again. He didn't do encores.

End

A/N: Yay! I wrote a Theo ficcy. He needed some love.