#but them prompts happened and the deleted scenes were released and i had to revamp the whole damn thing

[leaughrilke]

heavy wings grow lighter pt. 1

your world has no love to give

find it on: ao3

From: Troy Bolton To: Trini ?? 1:41pm hey do u want to study with me?  I grabbed one of the back tables

1:57pm T

2:08pm are u here today?  if u ditched it would have been polite to invite us u know

2:09pm also do u need a ride to the mine

2:14pm Trini??

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 2:16pm hey have u seen Trini

2:16pm she’s usually in the library during free but I haven’t seen her since before lunch.  she’s not answering her phone either and I need to know if she needs a ride to training

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:16pm i havent seen her

2:17pm did she seem ok to u when u saw her?  she’s been really quiet lately

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 2:17pm she’s always quiet

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:17pm quieter than normal.  like even with me

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 2:18pm shit

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:18pm class lets out in a bit, i’ll skip next and look for her

2:18pm text u when i find her

From: Fighter Pilot Barbie To: T 💛 💪💥👊👭 2:19pm where are u, jason’s worried

2:20pm on that matter, im worried

2:20pm did u skip bc if so bring me donuts

2:28pm u better be lying in a ditch somewhere

2:29pm actually i take that back but im still worried please call me to let me know ur alive or something

The bell rings just as Kimberly locks her phone, and it doesn’t so much as startle her—a feat that’s become increasingly hard to accomplish thanks to freaky Ranger skills (Trini’s term, of course)—as it does spur her to shove her books into a stack and head for the door.  

Someone from the other side of the classroom—Harper, maybe, or Rebecca—laughs, says something ugly that Kimberly no doubt deserves and that she is absolutely meant to hear.  Kimberly’s hands curl into fists, one wrapped tight around the strap of her bag, and, in another life, she probably would turn and throw something just as terrible back.  But there’s this awful, uncomfortable feeling in the very center of her chest that took hold when Jason texted her and that alone is enough to double her self-restraint.

Trini’s locker is on the other side of the main building, towards the gym, but up on the second floor as opposed to Kimberly’s newly assigned one near the front entrance.  Kimberly has to use a fair amount of evasive action to get there, especially once the second bell’s rung and the vice principal is prowling the halls trying to catch kids without hall passes—it’s not as if she’s not already stuck in Saturday detention, but she’d rather not add after school ones to her roster.  

Because of training.  Not because she has a standing donut date with Trini on Tuesdays, before they head to the mine.

When she rounds the corner of the stairwell, the girl in question is there.  Back to Kimberly, standing on a stack of books and scrubbing at her locker.  She freezes when Kimberly steps into the hall and Kimberly’s heart clenches at the tension held in the narrow line of her shoulders, at the way she seems to fold in on herself, making herself even smaller than she is.  Some of that goes away when Kimberly calls out, “Hey, I’ve been trying to text you,” but not all of it, not enough of it for the unease to slip away from Kimberly’s sternum.

“Huh,” Trini hums, still not turning around.  That’s red flag number one.  “Haven’t checked my phone in a while.”  Red flag number two, considering that if Trini’s not with the rest of them, she’s all but glued to her phone.  And, Kimberly notes with a little pride and with growing apprehension, even if she’s avoiding other people, she never ignores Kimberly’s texts.

“Are you okay?”  Kimberly steps further into the hallway, pauses when Trini visibly flinches.  “Hey, T, I’m worried about—.”

Trini straightens, rolls out her shoulders like she’s squaring up even with her back still to Kimberly.  “I’m fine,” she drawls, like everything isn’t completely wrong.  “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

Narrowing her eyes, Kimberly fires back, “You’ve missed three.”  Her tone is so much sharper than she’d intended, but sometimes to cut through Trini’s bluffing, Kimberly’s found you need a knife.

“Zack’s missed the entire day.”

“Zack’s…Zack.”  Kimberly steps closer, crosses the remaining space between them in a couple long strides.  “You usually give me a heads up if you’re planning on skipping.”

“Can you drop it?  I just forgot, okay?”

Kimberly doesn’t flinch at Trini’s tone, ignores the way her words sting, lodge in the space between her ribs.  The shorter girl is actually Kimberly’s height with the help of her textbooks underfoot, but she’s still not turning to face her, keeps shifting her weight—it hits her then that Trini’s trying to block her view.

Trini’s faster than her on a normal day, smaller and lighter on her feet than Kimberly can ever dream of being, even with years of gymnastics and cheer under her belt.  But Trini seems off-kilter now, doesn’t react fast enough to catch her before she can step just to the side to peer over her shoulder.

“Who—,” Kimberly starts as Trini finally turns and says, “It’s not that bad—,” reaching out with her free hand like she’s going to push Kimberly back.

Kimberly gets why she’s been avoiding the rest of the rangers now.  Trini’s blotchy, red nosed, and there’s blood smeared along her hairline and her full bottom lip—not that Kimberly’s noticed her lips or anything—is split down the side, purpling and swollen.  When Kimberly steps a little closer, she can see the smudge of a bruise along her cheekbone, the redness around Trini’s eyes, like she’s been rubbing at them too roughly.  She probably has.

The sight of her makes Kimberly’s blood boil, the sight of it, the word behind Trini, makes her face feel hot—four ugly red letters, taking up the entirety of Trini’s locker door, top left to bottom right.  

“Who the fuck did this?”  

Kimberly tries to keep the fury out of her voice, she truly does, but if Trini paling is any indication, she’s failing miserably.  In her defense, it’s taking every bit of Kimberly’s self-restraint to not reach around the other girl and rip the door off its hinges, crush it in one move, maybe two if she ripped it in half first—a move that she is very seriously considering.  It’d be nearly poetic, maybe, she thinks.

She doesn’t though.  Not when she notices how Trini’s chin is trembling, how she’s gripping the paper towels she was using to scrub at the word, white knuckled and fingertips ripping through the damp material.   She pauses, softens.  “Trini,” she breathes.  “Did whoever write that do this,” she gestures to Trini’s face, “to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”  Trini’s free hand drops, goes back to press flat against the wall of lockers.  

“Trini.  It matters.”  How could it not?  How could Kimberly ever—jesus, how could she ever not care about this?

The metal creaks, groans beneath the smaller girl’s hand, the door of the locker kitty corner to hers crumpling under her fingers.  She doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes unfocused and somewhere far away—Trini doesn’t flinch when Kimberly reaches out again, gently pulls her hand away from the lockers.  She doesn’t flinch, but she stiffens at Kimberly’s touch, her eyes darting around the hallway as she shrinks back just the slightest.

Right.  

Kimberly’s never—she’s been incredibly lucky.  She knows this.  She’s never had the same bone-deep fear that Trini has, never had the same self-doubt.  When Kimberly was fourteen, she googled what it meant to want to kiss your friend, found a word for it and, quite frankly, never thought about it again.  She isn’t out at school necessarily, nor to her parents, but she’s never feared what it would mean if she was, never really had a reason to.  Even now, after her fall, that confidence is still held in some quiet place inside her.  

But when Trini was fourteen, she told a girl she liked her and got laughed at, cut off—there’s more to the story, Kimberly knows, uglier things that Trini’s keeping close to the chest, but the bare bones are enough to put together an altogether heartbreaking picture.

“Come on,” she murmurs, hand at Trini’s wrist, not quite touching her.  “You need to get cleaned up.”

“You don’t have to do this.”  Trini’s frowning even as she steps off her textbook stepstool, eyes settled somewhere just past Kimberly’s shoulder.  She crosses her arms—it’s the first moment that Kimberly notices the blood on her collar, dried brown against the yellow of her shirt.  “You don’t have to help me.”

Kimberly stares at her openly, pressing her lips into a line.  They’ve all—Kimberly knows that Trini is slower to trust than any of them, they all know that.  They’ve adapted, figured out the best ways to make her feel safe, whole, cared for.  But this—after as much care that Trini’s shown for them, for her, she should be able to know.  Be able to trust that they all would do the same for her.  That Kimberly would do the same.

She’s trying not to take this skepticism personally.  This isn’t the time for her feelings—not that she has feelings for Trini, because they’re teammates and Trini’s her best friend and—yeah.  Anyway.

“You’re right, I don’t have to.  I want to,” Kimberly says firmly, stepping back and raising her hand to the small of Trini’s back but letting it hang in the air just a hair away from touching her.  “You’re my fellow ranger and my best friend and I—.” And I’m probably in love with you.  “And I care about you.  Let me help.”

Trini doesn’t protest after that.  She lets Kimberly half-guide her to the nearest, quietest bathroom—Kimberly’s got a fairly useful ranking system for every bathroom in the school.  Which are the nicest, which are the quietest, which don’t echo if you sob, which are the least likely place any of her old crowd would be.  She steers Trini towards the bathroom near the chemistry labs; someone told the incoming freshmen a couple years back that it was haunted and the rumor stuck, even if no one wanted to admit to believing it.

“Hop up.”  Kimberly taps the counter space between sinks lightly, turns away to grab a few paper towels and wet them.  When she turns back, Trini’s glaring down at her hands, twisted up in her lap, her legs dangling over the edge of the counter.  “You’re not going to like me very much in a minute,” she tells her, wringing out the paper towels so they’re just damp enough.

“Doubtful.”

Kimberly shrugs off a little of the anger that’s still curled in her fingers, flicking off excess water as she flashes Trini a smile.  “Is that a compliment?”

The corner of Trini’s mouth quirks up, the closest she can come to a smile without pulling at the split in her lip.  “Take it how you want it,” she murmurs after a quiet moment.  Then she lets her eyes close, tips her head back just the slightest.

Kimberly’s kind of lost for a second—she doesn’t mean to get distracted by Trini’s insane lashes or the smooth edge of her cheekbones or by how soft she looks or by the thought of how her skin would feel beneath Kimberly’s lips and the pads of her fingers.  But then she blinks fast in the harsh fluorescent lights because Trini’s just knocked Kimberly’s shin with the toe of her sneaker and has her head cocked to the side, eyes open again as she studies her.

“Space case much, princesa?” Trini teases when she catches Kimberly’s eye, her brow lifting.  It must pull at something, because her smirk is dropped in a flash, pain flickering in her eyes before she carefully hides it away again.

Kimberly frowns.  “Sorry,” she mutters, starting to wipe at the blood on Trini’s chin.  “Just wondering how someone so small could bleed so much.”  

She’s aiming for a joke, but it falls flat—partly, she’s sure, because Trini’s feeling like shit right now, but also partly because all Kimberly really wants right now is to somehow ensure that Trini never, ever feels like shit again.  And she’s—well.  She has no fucking clue what to do with that thought.

Trini doesn’t respond, just lets her eyes close again.  She winces when Kimberly nears her lip so Kimberly works faster, tries to minimize the irritation.  She tackles the blood at Trini’s hairline next, startling when she discovers a gash hiding among her dark roots.

“Jesus,” she hisses, pausing because she doesn’t trust herself to be gentle in the moment.  “Trini.”

“Hm?”  The smaller girl blinks up at her slowly.

“I—,” Kimberly starts, stops.  Exchanges the dirty towel for a clean one before she starts again.  “Who did this?”

“Kimberly—.”

“Because I just need to have a chat with them, you know?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, you can, but you don’t.”  Trini glares at her then, but it’s true.  Trini takes hits she can dodge if she wanted to, stays quiet when shit like this happens; Trini is fully capable of taking care of herself, Kimberly knows.  But Kimberly also knows that Trini doesn’t think she’s worth the effort.

Which—maybe that’s what’s making Kimberly so angry?  The idea that the girl in front of her sees some warped version of herself in the mirror, some version that doesn’t deserve basic respect.  Because fuck that, honestly.  This is—

fuck, this is the girl that sits up with Jason when he’s having a panic attack and doesn’t want to let anyone know, the girl that spends nights over at Zack’s when the fear of waking up alone overwhelms him, the girl that is the only one out of them that can keep up with Billy when he starts getting into specifics on his newest project.  The girl that, after a handful of days of knowing her, ripped off Kimberly’s defaced locker door and landed herself in detention for it.

Jesus, Kimberly can hardly breathe from the thought of it, from the idea that Trini doesn’t see what the rest of them see.  That she doesn’t know that they’re all just as worried for her, just as protective of her as she is of them.

The air between them is thicker than it was before, heavier in a way that Kimberly can’t figure out how to fix, not now, not with Trini looking at her like this, like she’s tired, like she wants to fight but can’t bring herself to.  And Kimberly—she doesn’t want to drop it—knows she can’t, not really.

But she can bury it for right now.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.  “That wasn’t fair of me.”

Trini turns her glare down to her hands and Kimberly feels the air go out of her lungs when she sees—no, she fucking feels it.  Feels all the hatred that Trini’s turning inward, feels all the guilt and disgust and doubt and anger.  Kimberly’s never been so equally grateful and horrified by the psychic link that holds them all together, that connects them all to the morphing grid.  Because this—this peek into Trini’s head?  It feels like an invasion of privacy, leaves Kimberly twisted up, twisted around because god, all she wants to do is punch every fucking tooth out of the mouth of whoever did this.

But it’s good to know.  Good to be able to recognize the way ebb and flow of Trini’s self-hatred, good to be able to know how and when to step in.  Like now.

Kimberly steps closer, cups Trini’s chin in her hand and gently urges her to look up, hold Kimberly’s eyes.  “Hey,” she says.  “What I said was uncalled for.”

“It’s not.  You’re right.”

Pursing her lips, Kimberly lets out a little sigh through her nose.  Tries to figure out a neat way to agree with her without feeding into Trini’s cycle.

“Maybe,” she responds finally, gaze falling to the paper towel in her hand and the little drop of water that is snaking its way down her wrist.  “But you didn’t need to hear it right now.”

There’s no response from Trini.  When Kimberly looks up, the other girl’s cheeks are wet.

Kimberly can count on one hand the times she’s seen Trini cry—it’s a grand total of four, not including today, and three occurred during times when they all thought they were about to die.  The fourth was when Kimberly had had the dumb fucking idea to watch The Fox and the Hound, but honestly if Trini hadn’t cried, Kimberly would have been convinced she wasn’t human.

But she’s crying now, in front of Kimberly, and if her appearance was anything to go by, she’d been crying earlier, and Kimberly can’t help but wonder how long this has been going on, how long Trini’s been hiding this from the rest of them.  Is this where she disappears to when she ditches out on math with Jason or history with Zack?  Scrubbing her locker when the halls are empty?  She’d always figured Trini bailed to go and spend time at the quarry or at home, without having to deal with the heavy, burning gaze of her mother, watching every move she made.

“I—,” Trini hiccups, leaning into Kimberly’s touch when she drops the damp towel in favor of brushing the other girl’s hair back out of her eyes.  “I didn’t want anyone to see.”  She sucks in a shuddering breath, forces out the rest of her words slowly, painfully.  “I don’t want it getting back to my parents.”

That—god, that hurts.  Hurts to hear, hurts to see; Trini looks incredibly small sitting up on this counter, even more so than normal, and her fear is a real, tangible thing that fills the space around them and between them with ease.

The rush of protectiveness that surges through Kimberly isn’t entirely new, not towards her fellow rangers, but the acuity of it is.  She wants to place herself directly between Trini and anything that makes her this scared.  She wants to wrap herself around the other girl and keep her warm and safe until she stops shaking like this or—hell—maybe even forever and that thought alone terrifies Kimberly.

She shoves the feeling aside for now—there’s time to unpack that and all that it means later.  Right now, Trini’s still crying, her shoulders hunching as she tries to make herself even smaller, tries to take up even less space and Kimberly’s aching at the sight of it, at Trini—sardonic and kind and stubborn Trini—looking so fucking small.

“Can I—,” Kimberly starts, unsure of how to phrase her question but knowing it has to be asked.  “Is it okay if I hug you?”

Trini looks up at her, her dark eyes wet and wide and then she’s leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Kimberly’s waist and sobbing into her neck.  Her fingers twist in the fabric of Kimberly’s shirt, pulling her closer, so Kimberly steps between Trini’s legs and slips her arms over Trini’s shoulders, tucking the smaller girl securely underneath her chin.

She doesn’t say anything deep, anything meant to do more than soothe because—because what could she say?  There’s nothing to make this all better for her, to take away the deep-seated fear that lives in Trini’s bones, born of nearly two decades of her mother’s vitriol and others’ cruelty.  Kimberly can only hold her and—

well.  Now that she thinks about it, there is one other thing she can do.

She fleshes the plan out a bit while Trini cries herself out on Kimberly’s shoulder.  When her sobs give way to sniffles, then a few deep, shaky breaths, Kimberly figures out the right words.  “You deserve so much better than this,” Kimberly tells her, because she feels like it’s something Trini’s not told enough and that’s—it fucking unbelievable, honestly, and it’s a wrong that Kimberly’s setting out to right.  Trini sucks in a breath like she’s about to dispute the statement, so Kimberly doesn’t give her the chance.  “You are a kind, loyal, loving person,” she whispers, “and you shouldn’t ever be made to feel ashamed over who you love.”

Trini manages a gross, mucus-y sort of laugh, her breath hot against the dip just above Kimberly’s collarbone.  “Sorry I cried on you,” she mumbles sheepishly when she pulls away; she doesn’t get far, because Kimberly keeps her arms around her.

“Trini.”

“Your shirt’s kind of gross now.  I got snot all over it."

She really did.  Kimberly can’t be fucked over it.  “Yeah,” she sighs.  “But it’s worth it.”

“Kimberly—.”

“It’s worth it.”  You’re worth it, she wants to say.  More than.

But Trini’s got this look like she might start crying again if Kimberly says something like that and honestly?  Kimberly’s maybe just reassigned making sure Trini never cries to, like, Priority Number One.

She swallows the words that are threatening to choke her now, says instead, “This one’s going to need a stitch, I think.”  She smooths her thumb over the skin just below the cut behind Trini’s hairline, careful not to apply too much pressure.  “I can probably manage it back at the ship,” she adds, even though she knows that by the time they make it to the ship, the gash will be long healed.

“I should change your name in my phone from Fighter Pilot Barbie to Paramedic Barbie at this rate.”

“Jesus,” Kimberly groans.  “Why am I still Fighter Pilot Barbie?”

Trini flashes her a small, lopsided smile.  It doesn’t reach her eyes, but it brightens her face a little and Kimberly watches with something akin to hope flaring in her chest as Trini’s shoulders relax, loosening under Kimberly’s arm.  “Because you didn’t like my other nicknames for you,” she retorts.

The air feels lighter now—Kimberly feels like they’ve slipped out of the darkest timeline, or they almost have, even if Trini’s face is still bruised and Kimberly can’t forget the word written on the girl’s locker down the hall.  Trini’s joking and smiling a little and so Kimberly finishes cleaning her up, moving quickly and distracting her with idle chatter about what she’s missed during the day.

When she’s done, she tucks Trini’s hair behind her ears and steps back to survey her work.  “Well,” she says.  “You still look like Rocky from the final act of Rocky—.”

“I should be so lucky,” Trini deadpans.

“—but you’re as patched up as I can get you at school.”  Kimberly drops her hands, one resting on Trini’s knee and the other trailing down Trini’s arm to lace their fingers together.  In the safety of the bathroom, out of sight, Trini doesn’t shy away from her touch, but rather tightens her hold on Kimberly’s hand and nods.  “Do you want water?” Kimberly offers.  “I think there’s a vending machine around the corner.”

“Water’d be good.”

“I’ll be right back.”  When Trini’s grip steels and her eyes widen, Kimberly tells her, “Lock the door behind me.  No one uses this bathroom, but I’ll knock when I come back, okay?”

When Trini nods and drops Kimberly’s hand, she—quite frankly, Kimberly doesn’t know what comes over her, but then she’s leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Trini’s forehead; it’s light, barely a brush of her lips over Trini’s skin, but it’s new and Kimberly’s close enough to smell Trini’s shampoo and she can’t—god.  She can’t handle this.

As soon as she’s out in the hall and has heard the deadbolt slide home, Kimberly pulls out her phone.

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:57pm found her

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 2:57pm is she okay??

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:57pm not really

2:57pm like she’s safe and alive

2:57pm but someone wrote on her locker and roughed her up and im going to fucking murder them

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 2:58pm shit can I do anything

2:58pm like does she need anything

2:58pm do you need anything

2:58pm don’t kill anyone Kimberly

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 2:59pm no fucking promises

2:59pm but i do need u to take her to the mine for me.  i wanna get her locker cleaned before class lets out and shes not up to staying thru the day

2:59pm and can u text zack bc she’ll probably want to head to the train car

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 3:01pm done and done.  just left class, I’ll be in the parking lot whenever she’s ready

3:02pm and seriously Kimberly, don’t kill anyone

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 3:02pm [image attached]

From: Fearless Leader To: Kimberly Hart 3:02pm who the fuck

3:02pm let me know if you need help burying them

3:02pm but seriously who the fuck did that

From: Kimberly Hart To: Fearless Leader 3:02pm shes not saying and im not abt to push her rn

Her phone buzzes again, but she doesn’t check it until she’s bought Trini’s drink and started walking back to the bathroom—it’s only Jason again, agreeing with her decision not to push for answers today.  Kimberly knocks three times, a familiar pattern, and slips in when Trini opens the door for her.

“Jason’s going to take you to the mine,” she tells her after cracking open the bottle.  Kimberly hands it over and adds at Trini’s questioning look, “I’ve got a couple things I need to handle before I can leave, but I’ll be there soon.”

“What things do you need to handle?”  Trini narrows her eyes at Kimberly, peering up at her with one hand planted on her hip.  She sips her water with a slightly raised eyebrow when Kimberly hesitates for a beat too long before answering.

“I’m supposed to meet with my history teacher after school today,” Kimberly lies easily.  “I just need to check in with her and let her know I can’t make it.”

If Trini doesn’t believe her, she doesn’t call her on it.  She drops eye contact and starts shrinking the moment they step through the door back into the open hallway.  Kimberly steers Trini away from the stairs by her locker, pulls her towards the elevator by the vending machines instead so she can be sure Trini doesn’t have to see it again.

Jason’s idling in the parking lot as promised, his truck newly declared road safe even though it still bore the physical evidence of his bull escapade.  He leans over to open the passenger door when he spots them, nodding in greeting.

“Zack’s going to meet us there,” he tells the girls.  “And I’m picking up Billy from the field.”  Jason shifts his attention to Kimberly, asking significantly, “When do you think you’ll be done here?”

“Before school lets out.”  She squeezes Trini’s hand as she climbs into her seat.  “Probably in twenty?”

Trini’s withdrawn again, staring blankly ahead even as Jason nods, calls out a goodbye as he pulls away from the curb.  Her eyes flick to Kimberly once as she lets go of Trini’s hand before they’re trained back ahead.

Kimberly stands at the curb until Jason’s truck disappears out onto the main road and makes the turn that takes them away from town and out towards the quarry.

It’s still quiet when she heads back into the school; the halls are still empty when she raids a janitor’s closet and collects cleaning supplies.

/

She stinks of bleach and her fingertips are raw by the end of it, but there’s no trace of the slur anymore and that alone is a triumph.  Kimberly entertains the idea of moving Trini’s stuff into her locker briefly, but Trini’s so careful with her boundaries, draws them out so clearly and Kimberly feels like moving her shit without her express permission probably kicks through every line Trini’s drawn and she refuses to do that.

What she does instead only kicks through a few lines, she thinks.

Really, it’s dumb fucking luck that she quite literally bumps into Amanda and Rebecca—she should have been expecting it, because bad things come in threes and so far, she’s only at two for today.

“Watch where you’re going, bitch,” Amanda hisses when she and Rebecca stumble back.

Kimberly fakes it, taking one large step back and pretending to be unsteady on her feet.  She’s just about to duck her head and slip away quietly, to attempt the path of least resistance, but then Rebecca’s taunting, “How’s your girlfriend, Kimmy?” and everything sort of goes out the window because it’s so obvious and Kimberly can’t believe she didn’t realize it before now.

Kimberly surges forward, hauls them both up by the collars of their shirts and shoves them back against the lockers that line the hallway.  “Fuck with me all you want,” Kimberly snarls.  “I deserve it and I know that.  But leave her out of this.”

“We were only stating the obvious, Kimmy,” Amanda spits back.  “Letting the rest of the student body know that she’s a d—.”

The anger that courses through Kimberly isn’t entirely new, but normally she’s alone when she feels it this intensely.  Normally, it’s self-directed.  Kimberly shifts, presses up with her forearm at the base of Amanda’s neck and growls, “Don’t you fucking dare.”  She presses harder, hears the fabric of Rebecca’s shirt tear in the clenched fist of her other hand as she repeats, “Leave her the fuck out of this.  Got it?”

Amanda’s still glaring at Kimberly, but there’s fear in her eyes too, just enough that Kimberly feels she’s done her job.  There’s no doubt in her mind that she deserves whatever Amanda throws at her—there never was and there never will be, honestly, and Kimberly will take anything and everything that the other girl decides to put her through—but her team is off limits.

Trini is off limits.

She drops the other girls, stands resolute as they glare and stalk away, throwing insults as they go and threatening to go to the principal—they won’t, Kimberly knows, but it’s a good effort on their part.

/

When Kimberly gets to the mine, they’ve already migrated away from Zack’s train car.  She heads to the gorge, throws herself off the cliff face and tries really hard to regret throwing Amanda and Rebecca into the lockers.  Because that’s—that’s fucked up, right?  Not her place?

The cool water does little to help clear her mind, but what she’s greeted with when she finally wanders onto the ship centers her.

She checks every one of their favorite spots to hide out in first—Trini’s, the few Kimberly’s shown her, the ones that everyone on the team knows about, all places somewhat shielded from Alpha-5 and their alien wall dad.  The term was something Zack picked early on and that had stuck, much to Zordon’s chagrin and the rest of the rangers’ unending amusement.

Kimberly finally finds them in the makeshift den, the atrium down in the living quarters that one day Billy had asked if they could build a fort in and they just never took it down afterwards, even going so far as trawling second hand shops to find a battered but incredibly comfortable couch to make the center of their Ranger Roost (again—Zack’s term).

She nearly doesn’t see Trini, she’s so smothered by their boys.  Kimberly only spots her by the little bright spot of yellow that stands out next to the deep red of Jason’s sweater where he’s got her wrapped up in his arms.  Her legs, she realizes, are thrown over Zack’s lap and he’s got one of her hands covered in his own.  Her sneaker clad feet are tucked up on the couch beside her, Billy’s hand resting on her leg, his thumb circling the jutting bone of Trini’s ankle.  He’s the first to notice Kimberly, looking up and greeting her.  “Hi Kimberly,” he says, his free hand raised and his voice splitting perfectly between worry and relief.

“Hey Billy,” she responds, stepping closer.  “How’s our girl?”

“She hasn’t said anything.”  Billy’s thumb doesn’t still on Trini’s ankle, even as he looks between Kimberly and where Kimberly thinks Trini’s face is worriedly.

Kimberly nods, squeezes the couch by Billy’s shoulder and murmurs, “Thanks, B.”

She comes around to the front of the couch, greets Zack by nudging the back of his head.  From this side, she can see more of Trini—just a little, but enough to realize that the other girl is out cold.

“She dozed on the drive,” Jason explains quietly.  “Barely made it in here and then was only up long enough to yell dogpile at us before she knocked out.”

Kimberly bites back a laugh partly because Jason’s got this calm resignation in his voice, like he knows and accepts the fact that he probably won’t be getting up from his seat until Trini’s napped herself out, but also partly due to the fact that Trini voluntarily called a dogpile when normally she rolls her eyes and has to be dragged into it.

Regardless—Zack nods in agreement with Jason.  “Who do we need to bury?” he asks after a beat.

For half a second, Kimberly thinks he’s joking, trying to lighten the mood, but then he turns his face just a fraction more towards her and he’s not smiling, not even a little.  Kimberly should probably be worried, but honestly?  She’s just so damned pleased that she’s got at least one accomplice for when she tries to convince Billy to help her blow up Amanda’s car.

“Who do you think?” Kimberly answers quietly.  They fall silent then; the only sound in the room is their breathing and Trini’s occasional soft snores and each one twists Kimberly’s heart, makes her soften.  “Scoot,” she demands finally, pushing at Zack’s shoulder with gentle insistence.  “I want in on the dog-pile.”

He moves without protest, which surprises her less than it did at the very beginning, when they were all still learning how to handle one another.  Zack’s incredibly caring, Kimberly’s found, particularly when it comes to the tiniest, angstiest ranger and he generally cools it with the jokes when Trini’s well-being is on the table.  He shoves Jason and they shuffle down in tandem, shifting Trini to rest against Kimberly seamlessly when she slips onto the couch to join her friends.

In her sleep, Trini curls into Kimberly, seeking out her warmth—Kimberly’s not surprised by it anymore; they’ve had enough sleepovers at this point that she’s become well-acquainted with the smaller girl’s tendency to wrap herself around whatever proves softest, warmest, and most accepting of her weight.  It left Kimberly flustered and blushing on far too many mornings, but eventually she noticed how much easier Trini seemed to sleep with human contact and learned to compartmentalize for her sake.

Right now, though, Trini’s wounds are healing already and she lets out a little sigh as she settles against Kimberly, her face relaxed and her near constant scowl nonexistent for the moment.  Kimberly wraps her arms around Trini, earning another pleased sigh and causing Kimberly to flush in response.  There’s no immediate shit from Zack over it, but when Kimberly looks up, he’s smirking at her like he knows something; lucky for him, Kimberly’s got a lapful of a napping Trini and can’t quite bring herself to give a shit about whatever Zack may or may not know.

Jason falls asleep next, his head falling back at such an awkward angle Kimberly’s sure he’ll wake with a crick in his neck.  Billy follows him shortly, but not before snagging one of the pillows off the floor and propping Jason’s head up on it.

For a while, it’s just Zack and Kimberly still awake; Kimberly’s playing with Trini’s hair when Zack asks seriously, “So what do you want to do about them?”

It’s no mystery who he’s talking about.  Kimberly takes a moment, a breath, before she answers.  “Dunno,” she says honestly.  “I mean, I know I want to take a baseball bat to Amanda’s BMW, but I’ll just follow her lead on it.”  She dips her chin towards Trini, who’s started snoring lightly, her exhales coming in warms puffs of air against Kimberly’s collarbone.  “However she wants to handle it, you know?”

Zack levels her with a look that tells Kimberly exactly how much he’s buying her answer, but nods just the same.  After a minute, he says, “Didn’t peg you for property damage, princess.”

Kimberly chucks the nearest object she can lay a hand on—in this case, Jason’s phone—and grins as Zack easily dodges it.  “Hey,” she warns lightly.  “Only one ranger gets to call me that.”

“You’re so whipped,” Zack laughs.  He laughs even harder when Kimberly blushes; she knows she deserves that quip, knows she brought it on herself, but it still makes her defensive, just a little.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am—.”

Trini shifts in Kimberly’s lap, twisting her fingers into the hem of the other girl’s shirt as she grumbles, “You’re both stupid.  Let me sleep.”

Zack shoots Kimberly a shit eating grin when she immediately snaps her mouth shut, her hands busying themselves with Trini’s hair again.  Shut up, she mouths at him.

Go to sleep, he throws back.

Whatever.  Kimberly’s not whipped just because she does actually settle down, leaning back against the arm of the couch and bringing Trini with her, head on her chest.

She closes her eyes to avoid Zack’s raised eyebrows.

/ /

“Hey,” Kimberly greets the next day, swinging up and through Trini’s window in the early morning light.  “I have a proposition for you.”

Trini snorts and throws Kimberly a surprised smile, one that makes her throat tighten, her heart turn with how bright it is.  “Kimberly Hart,” she gasps, “are you literally propositioning me?"

Rolling her eyes, Kimberly rights herself and straightens.  “I am, I guess,” she says.  “I think you should move into my locker.”

“Little early for that, hm?”

Kimberly pretends to not notice the way Trini’s voice cracks; she also pretends not to notice the little flare of warmth, of hope that takes hold in her chest when she considers what the break in the other girl’s voice might mean.  Instead, she nods.  “Maybe,” she agrees, “but how many times have you had days like yesterday?”

For a second, she thinks she’s finally said the wrong thing, finally gotten Trini to shut down, shut her out completely, because Trini’s expression flattens, goes dead in the blink of an eye.  She doesn’t still, though, just ducks Kimberly’s gaze as she keeps shoving things into her bag for detention.

“Trini,” Kimberly presses, desperate for some sign that she hasn’t just fucked whatever their relationship is to high hell.

“Doesn’t matter,” she says in a tight voice.  “It’s not your problem.”  She reaches for the beanie on the corner of her bed and Kimberly, knowing it’s the only chance to get a real answer, steps between to block her.

Trini looks up finally.  Her eyes are still a little puffy, still a little red; with ranger healing, her bruises and cuts have faded and her eyes should be back to normal by now, which only confirms what Kimberly worried about through the night—that after they all went home last night (or, more aptly: after Alpha-5 and Zordon forced them all to go home), Trini spent the night crying.

“Just drop it, okay?”

Trini’s voice breaks a little on the request and she’s watching Kimberly with narrowed eyes, like she doesn’t half-trust her to be in her space right now and that sort of breaks Kimberly into a million pieces.  That Trini still expects that her lot in life is to suffer alone, to deny any care before it can be denied to her has Kimberly wanting to hurt any and every person that has ever hurt the girl in front of her; she wants to track them down and demand why they would hurt a person so kind, so intensely caring.

Kimberly won’t drop it—can’t drop it, because Trini has always deserved more than this and to think that she doesn’t know that is almost too much for Kimberly to handle.  She softens a little more, reaches back to grab the beanie and hand it over to Trini before she perches on the edge of the other girl’s bed.  “Hey,” she says softly as Trini shoves the beanie over her hair.  “I’m sorry I upset you, I didn’t—I should have phrased that better.”

“You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass,” Trini snaps.  “I’m not going to break.”  And at least—at least this is familiar?  Kimberly’s used to this, used to Trini trying to provoke a response that she feels better suited to handle—annoyance or anger or teasing, anything other than heartfelt care.

“I know,” Kimberly says simply.  She lets the statement rest between them for a moment.  Then, she begins again.  “But I also know that you shouldn’t have to deal with this at all, Trini,” she sighs, “and you really shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.  I just want to be here for you.”

Trini’s scowl had been softening a little with each passing moment, and, with Kimberly’s last declaration, it disappears entirely, replaced with a carefully constructed neutral expression instead.  “You’re really willing to risk shit like this happening at your locker again?” Trini asks flatly, as if expecting Kimberly to rethink her offer suddenly.

It’s as good as an agreement though, and Kimberly nods quickly.  “Of course,” she hums.  “I thought I made it pretty clear that you’re more than worth it.”

The statement slips out without her meaning it to, but then it’s there, settling between them and for a split second, Kimberly’s sure Trini’s about to cry again—her eyes start shining and her jaw tightens and guilt sits heavy in Kimberly’s chest.  But then her expression clears, her mouth twisting into a smirk that seems to brighten the whole damn room even as her eyes still shine.

“Sap,” Trini accuses lightly.  “But yeah, whatever, if you’re so desperate to deal with me twenty-four seven, I’ll move into your locker.”  She moves to shoulder past Kimberly, head for the window and Kimberly can’t explain this either, can’t reason why her hand whips out to grab Trini around her wrist and pull her back, into a hug.

“Sorry,” Kimberly mutters into Trini’s hair.

She can practically feel Trini roll her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away; in fact, she leans into Kimberly a little more, brings her arms around her waist.  “If you ever tell anyone about this,” Trini grumbles into Kimberly’s neck, “I’m going to throw you into a wall or something.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”  The shorter girl lets out a little sigh then, her breath warm against Kimberly’s collarbone.  “But seriously.  Zack’s gonna give me shit if he knows I went down without a fight.”

“You know he won’t,” Kimberly hums.  “Not about this anyway.”

Trini huffs out something that sounds an awful lot like an agreement and pulls away slowly, like it pains her.  “You’re sparring with him today if he does, though,” she tells her.

“I thought we could spar together,” Kimberly says quietly, biting back a smile at the way Trini’s cheeks redden.

“You—uh,” she stammers.  “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to get hurt and you know you’ll pull your punches.”

“Not at all.  I’m gonna kick your ass, like always.”

Trini narrows her eyes, her mouth twisting up into a smirk even as her blush deepens.  “You’re so full of shit,” she says, the tips of her ears turning red.  “And we’re going to be late if you keep making me all sappy and whatever.”

“When have you ever been on time to detention?”

“Well, princesa,” Trini drawls.  “I’m there temporarily, so my tardiness doesn’t really matter, but I’m guessing you’re also here to insist on driving me?  And your tardiness does matter.  Therefore, we’re going to be on time today.”

“You’re so bossy,” Kimberly whines, pulling a face and biting back laughter as Trini shoves her towards the window.  There’s some grumbling behind her as Kimberly launches herself out the window, catching herself on the sill and twisting to grin at the other girl.  Trini’s still red-faced and Kimberly can’t help but add with a wink, “I think I like it.”

She drops her hold on Trini’s windowsill and falls to the ground with grace, landing lightly on the still dew covered grass, but not before she hears a strangled squeak of a response above her.