Disclaimer: Sorry, I don't own Power Rangers.

A/N: NOT AN EPISODE! Ha! I wrote a whole chapter and didn't once copy dialogue. Although, sad story is sad.


"Scott," Dr Oliver said as he stepped out of his van.

Scott smiled tightly, from where he leaned against his car, "Doctor O," he said, "thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

Dr Oliver smiled, "It isn't every day that the Red Ranger asks for a meeting, what can I do for you?"

Scott glanced around the park and nodded towards a bench set just in sight on a jogging path, "Let's sit over there, this may take some time."

"All right," Dr Oliver replied.

They walked silently to the bench while Scott thought about his request, and the possible reactions from Dr Oliver. As they sat down, Scott rested his elbows on his thighs and stared at the ground. "We think we've found our Series Black operator," he said finally.

"Really," Dr Oliver said, "I was under the impression that the physical requirements were making it near impossible."

"They were," Scott agreed, "but we had two refuges come in this week. Well, one of them was from Corinth and apparently left, the other," he sighed, "He was out there a long time."

"Your Series Black," Dr Oliver mused.

"He might now be," Scott said, "there are, complications." He sat back, "He calls himself Dillon, and he was a, guest, of Venjix." Another sigh, "I can't tell you everything. It was decided that what happened to Dillon had to be classified."

"Then don't," Dr Oliver replied, "I don't want you to get in trouble for me."

Scott gave him a slight grin, "The thing is, if Dillon passes the tests and becomes Series Black, are you going to initiate him?"

"Like we did with you?" Dr Oliver countered.

"Well, I guess," Scott replied.

"No," Dr Oliver replied, "although I'll want to talk to him. Black Rangers are different from Reds."

Scott nodded slightly, "I asked you to come here to ask you to hold off on that." He turned to look at Dr Oliver fully. "What happened to Dillon, not to mention the time he spent out there, has hurt him. Not to mention the fact that he has no memory of what happened to him before he escaped Venjix. Summer thinks, and frankly I agree, that Dillon will bolt if we put too much on him, too soon."

"How far back do you want us?" Dr Oliver asked.

Scott closed his eyes, "Off base," he said, "because of what happened to him, the Colonel wants Dillon to stay on base unless he's on Ranger business, so, with the exception of Doctor Kendall, we're going to restrict access for now. Summer says it won't be fair if we all go wandering around when Dillon can't, so we'll be sticking close to base until Doctor K kicks us out."

Dr Oliver chuckled, "All right, Scott," he said, "I'll talk to Zack. We'll leave Dillon be for now. Just don't forget to let me know when we can talk to him."

"I will sir," Scott replied.

"No Ranger Green yet," Dr Oliver asked after they had fallen silent for a moment.

"Not yet," Scott agreed, "Which makes me worried."

"Why?" Dr Oliver asked.

"It's stupid," Scott replied.

"Let me be the judge of that," Dr Oliver said with a hint of authority.

"I've been having these dreams," Scott began without thinking, "and I don't really remember them. One thing I remember is that I kept thinking, or feeling, that if we found Black, we'd find Green too."

"You don't think you will," Dr Oliver stated.

"So far," Scott said, "the only person Dillon has positively interacted with outside Project Ranger is the guy he brought in with him. I don't know that much about him but the kid's a criminal already. He came in with one of the cartels and has been in and out of scams and confidence schemes until two months ago when he vanished. We know now he got out of the city, but we don't know how, or why. We don't know what happened to him out there and very little about what led him to Dillon."

"Maybe you should give him a chance," Dr Oliver suggested.

"I've spent all afternoon jumping hoops with my dad to get Dillon," Scott replied, "and Dillon's only crime is to have been a captive of Venjix. The kid's a career criminal with no obvious redeeming qualities. I'd win an Olympic medal for the kind of gymnastics springing him from jail."

Dr Oliver just laughed, "If it comes down to it," he said finally as he calmed down, "I happen to know an Olympic medalist in gymnastics if you want some pointers."

….

Summer found Flynn in the laundry room sorting his laundry basket, "Hey," she said, boosting herself onto the counter they used to fold clothes.

"Hi," Flynn replied.

"Are you ok," Summer asked after a moment.

"I'm fine," Flynn said, "why would you think otherwise?"

Summer waved her hand a little, "Scott."

"Oh, that," Flynn said, pulling out the last of his clothes, "It's ok, Summer. I'm not going to run screaming from the Garage again."

"If you're sure," Summer said hesitantly.

"I'm sure, lass," Flynn said as he started the washer. He picked up a pair of his pants and began to check pockets. Summer slid off the counter and started on another pair silently.

As she went through her last pair, Summer found something, a square of paper. Curious, she pulled it out. It was a photograph, Flynn stood in his kilt and a dress shirt beaming happily with an arm around a girl in a wedding dress. They had matching tartans slung over their shoulders, "Flynn," Summer said, "who is this?"

Flynn took the picture from her with a sad smile, "That's my Jaycee, my wife."

"You're married," Summer replied.

"Nah, lass," Flynn said, "she died." He stared at the picture sadly and Summer stared at him, wondering how she had not known this about her teammate. The washing machine stopped filling up with a clunk and they both jumped. Summer finished checking the pants in her hand and dropped them in the washer, then Flynn closed the lid.

"What happened," Summer finally asked as they left the laundry room.

"She was hit by a drunk driver," Flynn said softly, still looking at the picture, "just walking down the road from the library."

Summer slipped her hand in Flynn's, "I'm sorry," she said.

Flynn smiled tightly, "It was two years ago now, Summer. We met in the Peace Corps and had a local voodoo priest do the ceremony. When we left the Corps, we formalized the wedding in Glasgow before settling in Boston. I became an American citizen for her."

Summer's eyebrows raised, "A mystery solved," she said, "I always wondered how you ended up in Corinth with us poor Americans."

"My dad was visiting when they grounded the planes," Flynn replied, "so we evacuated together."

Summer hesitated as they entered the kitchen, then asked, "Is that why it bothered you so much, what happened, I mean?"

Flynn stopped and turned to look down at her, a gentle smile on his lips, "Summer, it bothered me because I was straight, and I knew I was straight," he reached up and brushed some of her hair from her face. "I mourned my Jaycee for a year, just like I promised her, and then I met you and Scott. Neither of you are like my Jaycee, but I can't spend a lifetime loving a ghost. Jaycee liked to see that people were happy, and she was a matchmaker besides. If anything, I think she'd be happy at how happy I am because of you and Scott."

"But," Summer began.

Flynn kissed her gently, one hand on her shoulder, the other coming to rest on her hip. For a moment, Summer was still, then she slid her own hand up Flynn's arm to press against his back and the other echoed his in settling on Flynn's waist.

The revving of Scott's engine as he pulled into the Garage made them pull back, slowly, and with matched grins. "I won't say anything," Summer said softly, "but you should tell Scott if he doesn't already know."

Flynn nodded as Scott's door slammed. "Talked to Doctor Oliver," Scott announced as he came into the kitchen.

Summer realized she was still holding Flynn and started to drop her arms, but Flynn only turned, keeping his arm around her waist, "What did the doctor have to say for himself?" Flynn asked.

Scott regarded the two of them for a moment, then blinked, "He'll keep everyone back. I got the impression he was amused by the request, and a little proud."

"Well," Summer said, "that's good. All we have to do is worry about scaring him off ourselves."

"We wouldn't do that," Flynn objected.

"I don't know," Summer said, "I was pretty tempted a few times at the beginning, and compared to Dillon, I'm emotionally stable and completely normal."

"What's normal?" Scott asked dryly.

"Good question," Flynn replied.

"What's the word on Dillon," Summer asked.

"Tomorrow," Scott said, "apparently my dad's in a closed door meeting and can't be reached so the guards at the prison won't do anything. I told the warden that if our teammate wasn't released by ten o'clock he'd be replacing doors."

"Good for you," Summer said, and her stomach growled.

They laughed, "Now that we've heard from the peanut gallery," Scott said as they quieted, "who's up for going out to dinner?"

"I could not cook for an evening," Flynn agreed.

"Me too," Summer said, she turned her head towards the briefing room, "Are you going to need us, Doctor K?"

"No," Doctor K replied after a moment, "if I do, I will contact you."

"Thanks," Scott called.

"Where are we going?" Flynn asked.

"I thought we could go to that Italian place," Scott replied, "the one on the harbor."

"With the little tables and the candles," Summer agreed, "it sounds perfect."

"I agree," Flynn said.

Scott smiled, "Good, because I made reservations at eighteen hundred."

"An hour and a half to get ready," Summer said with a laugh, "someone's being an optimist." She slipped away from Flynn's arm.

"Where are you going?" Flynn asked.

Summer glanced over her shoulder with a smile, "Flynn, I'm about to go on a date with two good looking men, I have to get ready."

Scott shook his head and turned back to Flynn, "She's something, isn't she?"

"Aye," Flynn said with a fond smile. It faded soon after, "Scott," he said, "there's something I need to tell you."

"What?" Scott asked.

Flynn took something out of his pocket and handed it over, "This," he said.

Scott took the picture and stared at it, "Who is she?" He asked, and cleared his throat.

"My wife," Flynn replied.

"Your what?" Scott repeated.

"Jennifer Christine McAllister," Flynn said, "she was killed two years ago, my Jaycee."

Scott studied the woman, she appeared to be a brunette, although the veil made it hard to tell. Her smile, however, was like a beacon and the way she was looking at Flynn made it clear that she loved him. The look Flynn had was one Scott had seen a time or two, although he was used to a less intense version. "Your last secret," Scott managed finally, offering him the picture.

"My last," Flynn agreed, he put the picture in his pocket. "I didn't tell you because it hurt so much at first. She was my everything and a damned drunk took her from me." Scott reached out, wanting to comfort his friend, but uncertain as to how, Flynn smiled at him and caught his hand with a tight squeeze. "Don't worry," Flynn said, "you'll not be competing against a ghost. I promised my Jaycee I'd mourn her for a year and a day alone, but after that, I wouldn't guard my heart any more. I didn't expect to give it away so fast though."

"You didn't," Scott said. At Flynn's look, he swallowed, "You didn't 'give' it away, Flynn. You traded it, half shares for mine."

"Only half?" Flynn said, his tone lightening.

"Well, Summer gets half to," Scott allowed.

"Good thing," Flynn said, "she's got half of mine same as you."

Scott smirked, "Good, so I get the shower first."

"What, why?" Flynn demanded.

"Because I'm paying tonight," Scott replied, "and if I go first, you'll spend less time in front of the mirror."

"I meant, why are you showering, we showered this morning," Flynn replied.

"Because in an hour and twenty minutes, Summer is going to come down those stairs looking like a million dollars," Scott replied, "and she'd probably drop kick us both if we didn't at least look like half a mil."

Flynn dropped his hand and bolted for the stairs, "Shower's first come first serve, Scott," he called over his shoulder, "You know that."