Disclaimer: Nope, no ownership of Stargate Atlantis or Power Rangers
A/N: Um, this chapter is ninety-two percent filler. Next chapter will have something more to it.
Justin sighed as he stood in the middle of the unfurnished room T.K. had helped him find. The Atlanteans may not have a dedicated gym, but that didn't mean he couldn't take over a room for his own use. He put his audio device on the window sill and turned it on, unable to fight the feeling of irony that he owned one of the most sophisticated audio devices on Eltare, and he used it to play Earthian music. He stood for a moment, head bowed, eyes closed, letting the harsh beat roll over him, just breathing. Then he took a step back and spun, launching himself into the first of his warm up routines.
It had been a long time since he'd used pure karate, Justin mused as he worked. Zhane had been his first teacher, showing him the forms and patterns of the Liana. Then he'd studied Aquitian and Javoran, and finally he'd studied the Eltarean styles. Each style had been adopted, adapted and blended, leaving him with a unique fighting style. His final step had been a serious of lessons with the Eltarean black ranger, who had helped him, both to set the patterns to music, and to add some moves that were pure dance.
Just as the music switched from the pounding and rhythmic workout tracks to one of his favorite country tunes, the door to the room slid open and John Sheppard stepped in. "Major," Justin said as he moved into one of his cool down stretches.
"Justin," John replied, "what are you doing?"
Justin eyed the man, "Just a quick workout, sir." He paused for a tricky stretch, "I'm about done, actually. I was feeling lazy, I haven't done any of my usual workouts in a week, and I haven't sparred in two. T.K. helped me find an unfurnished room that was big enough to move around in yesterday."
John leaned against the door, "You and T.K. seem to be getting along well."
Justin shrugged as he bent over, "He's a familiar face, in as much as being in an alternate dimension where nothing is as it was can have familiar faces." He considered the way his thighs felt and decided he could probably do it without hurting himself.
"Not to mention Doctor MacTayo," John continued.
"Pretty girl," Justin said as he settled on the floor and spread his legs slowly, "fascinating accent. Of course, I'm not looking for anything but friendship, I've got someone waiting for me who is more than enough."
"I thought you said you weren't anticipating going back," John asked.
Justin lifted his torso slightly to help form a perfect split, "Maybe I won't," he gasped out, and mentally began to count. "But that doesn't mean I should try to bed jump the first chance I get. Keya isn't possessive, but I don't want to ruin a good thing."
"Keya," John replied carefully, "your girlfriend?"
Justin flicked a glance up and smirked, because John was not watching him. He relaxed, letting his body settle even as he drew his legs together. "In so far as Ylsiadians have a gender," Justin said and began to stand back up, "it would be far safer to say," He straightened up and dusted his hands off, "that Keya is my boyfriend." Another, fuller smirk preceded his strut to collect his towel. "Ylsiadians don't have gender-identity to any significant degree. Although they do have distinctive procreation organs, they do not identify or typify their genders."
"You're dating an alien," John asked softly, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying.
"Well, that would be one word for it," Justin said, "I would almost say we're friends with benefits." Throwing his towel around his neck, Justin turned off the audio device and put it back in his bag. "Were you coming here for a reason?"
"Huh," John said, "oh, uh, yes, I did. McKay said that Doctor MacTayo was asking if you could help with exploring the city?"
"She asked, great," Justin grinned, "I actually do want to help with the exploration, but since I figured you wouldn't let me go through the Stargate, I want to volunteer to help with mapping the city itself. T.K., Jenna and I have been talking about it, actually. Jenna and I don't have the gene, but T.K. does, and T.K.'s such a Red that it would actually be safer."
"What do you mean by T.K.'s a Red?" John asked.
"Red Ranger," Justin replied, "he's a leader. He's got some of the best instincts and a good helping of common sense. Of all the Reds I count as friends, he's like TJ and Rocky, enough blue to be logical, but he's a Red at heart." As he walked back across the room, Justin studied John for a moment as he slowed down with plenty of space between them, "I'd say you were a Red too, but you're more like Andros, or even Tommy."
"Why's that?" John asked, giving him a weird look.
"Well, I knew Tommy first, but I've spent more time around Andros, and there are two versions of their battle strategy, 'hit it and see what happens' or 'shoot it and see what happens'. Then there's the tactics, 'first we show up, then we see what happens', also handily rephrased as 'we'll get a bunch of Rangers together and hopefully something will happen.'" Justin shrugged, "I don't know why, but that's what I think of around you."
John laughed, which made Justin feel a little better, "I wouldn't say I'm that bad," John finally said, "and did you think I was going to hit you for that?"
Justin shrugged, "The closest I've come to spending time with the military is the Rangers, sir. I wouldn't put it past some of them to lash out." He rubbed his shoulder, "Although, the girls do tend to hit harder."
"No comment," John said, "but if T.K.'s a Red, what about you, or Jenna?"
"I'm Blue," Justin said, "hands down, no other color necessary. Jenna, I'm not sure about; sometimes, I think she could be a Pink, but I don't think she's a Yellow. Maybe a White or a Blue."
"And what do those colors mean," John asked.
"Blue is for intelligence, sort of, it's the belief that 'The ability to use one's body is second only to the ability to use one's mind.'" Justin grinned, "A lot of blues are geniuses like Billy and I, or at least, they're very good at using logic over emotion. All Ranger teams have a Red, a Blue and a Yellow. Yellows are healers, body, mind or soul and can be classified as Emotion with Logic. Pinks are the heart of the team and are good at compassion and forgiveness. They're Emotion over Logic. Whites are the counterpoint to yellow, being Logic with Emotion. Tommy says being a White is about taking care of the team as a family. With the exception of Tommy, Whites aren't leaders, but they have a unique view to the team. There's also Black, they're artists, Greens, who are strong fighters and pranksters, and then the three that are very rare; Golds, who are Guardians, Silvers, who are The Light and Purples, who are the Mystics."
"Ten colors," John said, "seems like a big team."
"Not really," Justin replied, "traditionally, a team is between five and six Rangers. The smallest teams that are formed deliberately are always a Triad and always Red, Blue and Yellow. Occasionally you get two Rangers together, like Andros and Zhane, or a solitary Ranger, but that only happens when the other Rangers are," Justin hesitated, "lost." He closed his eyes against the onrushing of memories, of teammates who were too old, who had lost one of their own and weren't ready to reform and of teammates who weren't ready for a young Senior, too lost and afraid to see the possibilities and too willing to let him go when he asked. "Hela'denar'i," he whispered, the label he accepted and hated in equal measure, Broken Team.
"What does that mean?" John asked, cutting through the memories.
"What?" Justin asked, opening his eyes.
"What you whispered, that word, what does it mean?" John repeated.
"It means Broken Team," Justin said, "look, about the exploring thing, can we do that? Because I'm not much help in the labs right now, and I think Jenna's going to go primal on Doctor McKay if she has to continue to spend time in his presence; not to mention that T.K. and Doctor Kavanaugh are an exchange away from one of them committing fratricide." He held his hand up, "If this is about you not wanting me to carry a P-90 or a 9 mil, that's cool. I don't like guns in the first place. I do have the designs for a nifty little stun gun from my weapons development class that would be more to my taste."
"A stun gun," John repeated.
"Yeah," Justin said, he pulled out his tablet, "see, this design here is based off modifying a traditional Taser, and I've got some others that need to be built from scratch."
"Show me more," John replied, coming to look at the schematics Justin was pulling up.