Kuroonningen

[estirise]

Disclaimer: Characters belong to BVE and VRP, not me, with the exception of Trira, who first appeared in my story "Take Strength".

Author's note: Thanks to Beth Epstein for the beta read. Hey, it only took me two years to finish....

Kuroonningen
by Selma McCrory
c 2004-2006

"Night, Trent!" Trira Jones called as she exited the Cyberspace; she was the last customer to leave that evening. Trent only knew her name because she and Conner had ended up doing a social studies project together.

He waved at her through the windows as he locked the door. He then started to clean, joining his boss, Hayley, in getting the place ready for the next day.

It was the same old routine. Get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, go to school, work at Hayley's, and then dodge Tyrannodrones while trying to raid the kitchen at his Dad's place. Sometimes his father was lucid enough to eat dinner, but most of the time, Trent was glad he had a tent and a camp stove. And a father, who in said times of lucidity, ordered food that could be prepared using a camp stove.

He knew his foster father loved him, but with Mesogog increasingly using his father's body, he didn't get to talk much with his father. Those few conversations they'd managed were short and to the point. Stuff to reorder. Clothes. Whether Trent was comfortable, wherever he was.

Whether Trent knew that, despite everything, his father loved him. And was looking to break the curse on his own body. But he was still trapped, just as Trent was trapped.

Once the place was cleaned up, he waited patiently as his boss made sure the backdoor was locked - not a bad thing in this day and age. Especially with Hayley's computer equipment.

"See you tomorrow, Trent," Hayley said cheerfully. Trent stuffed his own Cyberspace key into his pocket, glad that Hayley had given it to him all that time ago, before his life had changed irrevocably.

"See ya," Trent agreed.

/--/

"Trent," the voice of his father greeted him as he was standing in the pantry, looking for the food that his father had gotten for him this time around.

"Dad? You're here!" Trent exclaimed

"I seem to be holding Mesogog off," his father said. "For the moment."

Trent nodded. "Are you okay?"

His father seemed to consider this, and then shook his head. "It's dinnertime," he said, clearly changing the subject. "Are you hungry?"

Trent raised his eyebrows. "I'm hungry a lot, Dad." His father wasn't the only one who could change the subject.

Anton Mercer took a deep breath. "The Dino Gem must be affecting your metabolism." He shook his head. "I really need to be buying more for you."

"Dad, you don't need to fuss, I'll be fine," Trent told his father. He carefully packed some food into his backpack.

"I'm your father," his father said. "It may not seem that I'm your father very much right now... but Mesogog got you into this mess, and it's my job to keep you healthy and able to fight."

"Dad, don't...."

"In fact, you do seem a little tired. Come on, son, I think you need to eat something that isn't cooked over a camp stove."

Trent took a deep breath. "You're sure it'll be safe, Dad?" he asked.

"I set up an alert to tell me if any of Mesogog's forces arrive," Anton said. "And another one if I start shifting. That way, you can get away.”

"But what you know, Mesogog knows," Trent pointed out.

"That's why we're going to eat out on the patio," his father said. "That way, if you have to run, you can run. I'm under no illusions that I can hold him off forever, especially when you're present."

"That day in science...." Trent remembered.

"It's worse when you're near. I think he senses your Dino Gem. With four of you together...." his father took a deep breath. "And I don't want you in the line of fire."

"It's kind of late for that," Trent reminded him. "Gem's bonded to me, remember?"

Anton Mercer winced at that. "I wish... I wish you hadn't been so curious, Trent. I was doing so much to save you from Mesogog. I'm sure he would have left you alive, if you'd stayed out of it. Now... now I want to defeat him and save you from your Gem."

"Without the evil, the Gem's not half bad, Dad," Trent told him. "And... I'm doing what you asked. I'm not sure they trust me completely, but I'm fighting with them."

"And if anybody can help you with that, Dr. Oliver can," his father said, steepling his fingers. "In the meantime, let me be a father to you. You're too thin."

Trent rolled his eyes. "I'm eating enough," he said.

"No, you're not," his father said. "Go. Outside. I'll be out with dinner."

Trent sighed. "Right, Dad."

/--/

Trent went out to find the dining table set up. His father must have figured that once he had arrived, he could be persuaded to stay. At least for dinner, anyway.

His father looked pale and drawn. Mesogog had either manifested recently or wanted to manifest, and Trent was willing to bet that it was the latter. He silently cursed the reptilian being that had taken control over his father's body, using his father for its own purposes.

Anton brought the food out, and Trent was somehow not surprised to find that there was a lot of it. It wasn't really all stuff he liked to eat; he guessed that his father was trying to feed him high-protein stuff. He wasn't keen on it, but he didn't argue about what he was being fed.

He just hoped it didn't include any sleeping drugs or anything like that. Just because his father was in human form didn't mean it was perfectly safe, but it was distinctly safer than it would be if he wasn't.

Trent looked at his father questioningly. As the older man was sitting down, Anton answered, "I wouldn't be serving it if I thought Mesogog had taken over my mind."

Which was true, Trent realized. Anton Mercer was a successful businessman, and he usually had some indication that Mesogog was taking over his body. Those two factors made the meal a bit more reassuring. Anton Mercer, his adoptive father, may have been a control freak at times. It was something that had led to his downfall but also made him the man that he was. It had also had probably saved both himself and Trent multiple times.

And at least he wasn't in foster care somewhere. Control freak or not, he had at least cared. He'd at least taken Trent in, he hadn't had to do so and Trent had never thought to question why. Of course, he might have felt some obligation towards Trent's parents, but sometimes Trent felt like it was more. That he'd cared for Trent, had wanted Trent to be safe.

It wasn't as if Trent could really ask him, after all.

/--/

Anton Mercer watched his adoptive son as Trent ate. He was starting to regret all the time he hadn't spent with his son before. While there was good reason for it, he still regretted not being there, really, for Trent. If he'd paid more attention, would Trent have embarked on the dangerous course he was on now? Surely if he'd paid more attention, been more attentive, Trent wouldn't have snooped. Trent wouldn't have walked into Mesogog's lair as the Gem lay there, waiting for somebody to bond to it.

Of course, despite being Mesogog, he sometimes didn't know everything that Mesogog knew. For sure how the Dino Gems worked, for one. How they chose their hosts, why they bonded to one person over another.

Why the White Dinogem had chosen his son of all people. Of course, he'd seen Trent in action - Mesogog was careless enough to let him retain a few memories, after all, and he'd seen a bit of footage from Ranger battles. Maybe the White Dinogem wanted an artist, called Trent there because it had access to him. Through him. Through Mesogog. Through the portal at the very least.

The thought was disturbing. Even though Trent wasn't his natural son, he'd owed so much to the Fernandezes that adopting Trent was a small thank you. In fact, leaving Trent as an orphan hadn't even crossed his mind. Sure, he wasn't keen on raising an artist as a son, but it looked like Trent might pick up at least some of his business sense, even by osmosis. Trent might go into the world ready for it.

Assuming he and the others defeated Mesogog and survived, of course.

Which was why Anton tried to stay in human form as much as possible, resist Mesogog as much as possible. Worked to find a way to cure himself so that Trent and the others would be safe. So his son wouldn't have to risk his life anymore. He'd made a silent promise to Trent's parents to keep Trent safe, and he doubted that letting him risk himself in battle would be defined as "safe".

But he still had his pride. He still couldn't allow Tommy Oliver to know about his weakness, for anybody to know about his weakness. Even if Tommy Oliver or his girlfriend could do something about it, he didn't dare risk it getting out. Didn't dare show weakness. If he did, he'd lose everything.

Including Trent.

And he couldn’t allow that to happen. Not to Trent. Oh, his son was becoming his own man, he could see that. But Trent was still vulnerable, even as a Ranger. He was still flesh and blood.

“Dad?” Trent asked.

Still in need of guidance, apparently.

“I’m here,” he said, as if to reassure himself as much as Trent. “I’m thinking.”

He saw Trent withdraw and wondered if he seemed closed off. “What did you want to ask, son?” he asked, to encourage conversation. He spent enough time away from Trent that he shouldn’t squander their time together.

“Are you sure I can’t tell the others?”

Of course Trent would ask that. Ask the hard questions. Anton could have handled “Do you love me?” fairly easily, probably. After all, he did love Trent. He just couldn’t take care of him as well with Mesogog trying to appear every time Trent was about. And Trent wasn’t the type to follow “Do you love me?” with “Then do this for me”. He was more mature than that. Not as mature as Anton sometimes would have liked, and growing up faster than he should have, but he wouldn’t try the “If you loved me” ploy. Not Trent.

“No.” It was a simple enough answer. “I have to find an answer to this alone.”

Trent gave a brief, resigned nod. He knew that Trent wished to bring the Rangers in, but he didn’t want them falling into one of Mesogog’s traps. Not only would admitting he needed help risk everything he had, but it could destroy the Rangers as well.

“But....”

And maybe sometimes Trent didn’t see the big picture. He sighed inwardly. “The Rangers have had enough deceit. I’m not going to let Mesogog use me to get to you.”

It seemed Trent understood, or at least winced. Presumably, he’d played a few dirty tricks during his time as an evil Ranger, did things that were part of his personality that he didn’t want to know.

“But they can help!”

One step forward, one step back. Or maybe two steps. “No. I’m not going to let Mesogog use me to get to you.” This time the ‘you’ was singular. Trent. Trent couldn’t understand the sacrifices Anton was making for him, in a typical teenage way. Anton was constantly having to reevaluate the young man.

/--/

It always came back to Mesogog. Trent knew that his father had reason to be concerned, but he also wished he knew that Dr. O and Hayley could help him. Cure him of Mesogog. At least maybe make Trent’s life easier. Trent wanted to not be camping in the woods. Trent wanted to sleep with a roof over his head, a roof more solid than the top of his tent.

He didn’t know if his father would consider that selfish, that last part. It was clear his father wanted to be free as much as Trent wanted him to be free, as much as the unknowing world wanted him to be free. But until Anton Mercer could accept help, they’d both be pretending that nothing was wrong and Mesogog wasn’t a human named Anton Mercer whose son was a Power Ranger.

Trent didn’t know if it was concern for himself or the world which made Anton Mercer keep going, or just stubbornness and pride. One didn’t become head of a multi-million dollar company by being stupid, or at least Trent hoped not.

“I know, Dad.” His father was unwilling to hear his advice. There was no use in keeping going on the argument; his father had set his heels in to his beliefs and Trent wasn’t going to bring him about.

“Now, food,” his father said. Trent obediently sipped at the soup. His father was no doubt yearning to find out what made him tick, if only to make sure he ticked better. “What kind of food do you need? Do you know?”

And back to treating him half like a little kid and half like a plant. “The food you’re giving me is good, Dad.”

“But obviously not enough,” his father countered. “You’re pale and you’re not fighting as well.” Trent had to wonder if that last piece of observation had happened because of something Mesogog, Elsa, or Zeltrax had said.

“I guess not,” Trent agreed. “But it would be hard to haul and store a larger amount of food.” His argument wasn’t entirely solid; he was a bit stronger, even in his human form. However, food storage *was* a difficult matter. There were bears in the woods, after all.

“Let me work on the storage,” his father said, obviously applying his not-insignificant mind to the matter of Trent’s nutrition. “I’ll have something for you the next time you come back.”

Trent nodded. If Anton Mercer said that he’d figure out a way by the next time Trent came back for supplies, he’d find a way. No doubt Trent would find a note sitting on top of whatever Anton Mercer had figured out. “Bear-proof would be good.”

He hoped it wouldn’t give Mesogog enough clues to where he was, though he doubted it. Bears were a fairly decent problem in the area surrounding Reefside.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Anton promised. “And how are you sleeping?”

“The air mattress is no bed, but it’s good,” Trent said. “I know not to expect a luxury bed in the woods, Dad.”

Anton nodded absentmindedly. “Still.” For all his father thought he shouldn’t have that many luxuries, Trent supposed that his father wanted to look out for him, especially when better health might mean that Reefside’s defenders might survive another attack.

“Dad, it’s going to be okay.” Not that it’d be okay, but he had to give his father the illusion so that his father wouldn’t worry. Illusions were what they had, after all. His father pretended that it wasn’t as bad as it was, and Trent, in turn, pretended that he wasn’t as bad off as he was. And together, they tried to convince the world that nothing was unusual, that Trent wasn’t living in a tent, that Anton Mercer wasn’t Mesogog. In fact, Anton had the illusion, the delusion, that nobody could help him.

“And how’s your relationship with the other Rangers?” Anton asked suddenly, as if to poke into one of Trent’s weakest spots. “I know I shouldn’t be asking this, but....”

“It’s not anything Mesogog couldn’t figure out by spying on us anyway,” Trent said, and tried not to say anything that Mesogog wouldn’t know. “Me and Kira have cooled off. We never got close again after... what happened. Dr. O’s about the only one who trusts me at all, and that’s because he went through the same thing when he was my age.” He’d gotten the obligatory “yes, you were evil, and now you have to move on” speech from Dr. O. “Conner and Ethan trust me enough in battle, but don’t ask how they think of me outside that.” Especially with what he’d done when he was evil. He didn’t blame them at all for not trusting him. Yeah, he yearned for them to trust him, but he knew it wasn’t going to happen, and he wouldn’t blame Kira for starting to be attracted to Conner. He was a heck of a lot more trustworthy, after all.

Or at least he seemed to be. Trent wished she could see that he was who he’d always been, and that when he’d turned evil, he’d used the ‘softer’ parts of himself against the others. Didn’t mean that he used people, just that he was capable of doing it. He imagined a lot of people were that way, it was just that most people didn’t get their evil sides coming out quite so dramatically as he did.

“Right,” Anton said, as if filing it away. Surprisingly, he didn’t lecture Trent about his failure to establish relationships with the other Rangers; maybe he held himself responsible. Which he really shouldn’t, given that the only thing he’d done to make Trent’s life miserable - besides not getting it in the first place - was becoming Mesogog in the first place. Of course, Trent could have done without the invisiportal in his Dad’s office, but he didn’t blame his father for wanting to get away from his office when Mesogog decided to wake up.

And obviously, his father blamed himself enough for Trent’s transformation into the White Ranger, so Trent didn’t need to blame him for it too.

“What if you closed the invisiportal in your office?” Trent asked.

His father shook his head. “Mesogog would find a way to reactivate it. All it would do would slow him down and make him more annoyed.”

Right. Elsa or Zeltrax would reopen the portal and his father’s alter-ego would leave it running. “And it wouldn’t stop him from manifesting anyway?”

“It might make it worse,” Anton said. He leaned forward as Trent sipped at his soup. “At least there, I have a chance of coming back. Of overwhelming Mesogog.”

Trent nodded, remembering his father’s last-minute rescue when Mesogog had become convinced that Trent had betrayed him. It had both saved his life and saved him from being evil, so he was hardly complaining. Sure, the other Rangers had trust issues with him, but it was better than him still being evil.

“So, bear-proof container, and more food.” Anton looked thoughtful. “Do the Rangers know that you’re in the woods?”

Shrugging, Trent said, “They don’t seem to notice. That generator and the solar power with that washing machine thing seem to work. As does that portable drying stand. But it’s sometimes too wet to use those. So I go into the nearest laundromat and dry it. Plus, I might look tired, but I’ve brushed it off as home life. It doesn’t even occur to them to wonder if I’m camping.”

“Good,” his father said with some relief. “I’m surprised Tommy hasn’t noticed the same things I have.”

Trent shrugged again. Sure, Dr. O was starting to worry, he could see it in the other man’s face, but he hadn’t said anything. Yet. So Trent didn’t have to bother his father about it. “He doesn’t know me as well.”

“Right.” Anton Mercer took a deep breath. “You can’t let him even *suspect*....”

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Trent said. “I promised, and I’ll hold by that promise.”

“Good.” His father relaxed once more. “But if you continue looking pale, they’ll know.”

Trent nodded. “I know that, Dad. There’s not much I can do about it except lie.” Lie to his teammates. It was becoming a habit.

“If it saves them, son, then it saves all of us.”

Again with his father’s delusions, but Trent didn’t feel like correcting him. “Right, Dad.” He paused. “You know, I’m surprised Mesogog hasn’t come out yet. I mean, with me near.” Best to change the subject. He was actually surprised that Mesogog hadn’t manifested; Mesogog seemed to do so at the most inconvenient times.

“I think....” His father paused. “Mesogog has a big project. That’s why he’s allowing me free access to my own body. It’s something even Elsa and Zeltrax can’t mess up.”

“Is it something we should worry about?” Trent asked, concerned. Not that he’d be able to relay it to the others, not without causing suspicion. Which stunk, but there wasn’t anything either he or his father could do about it. The best he could possibly manage was... wait, if he played it right, he could say he was spying on Mesogog again. Which wouldn’t make the others very happy, but it was better than revealing that his father *was* Mesogog and that he’d be hiding it. Maybe he’d make it through the whole Mesogog thing without anybody ever knowing about the connection between Anton Mercer and Mesogog.

“I don’t know,” his father said. “But I’d keep an eye out, even if you can’t tell the others.”

“I might be able to find a way,” Trent said. At his father’s dubious look, he added, “Being formerly evil has its disadvantages, but it has its advantages too.”

“Just be careful, Trent.”

That was all. A “just be careful”, an acknowledgment that sometimes Trent had to take risks to save the day. Something his father understood sometimes even when his teammates didn’t.

And sometimes that acceptance meant a lot to him. Not only because it was Anton, not only because it was his father, but someone understood, someone knew in a way Dr. O didn’t.

He had been evil, and good, and evil, and his father was the same way. The other Rangers couldn’t understand it, saw things as black and white, even Dr. O.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said simply, and with that simple acknowledgment, finished his soup and shouldered his backpack. He had a Mesogog project to figure out, and teammates to fool. And he’d make it. He saw his father nod, accepting the thanks and that he had to go. He had to get going.

The world might be destroyed if he didn’t.

-The End.