trans_9 | Etched in Bone

Once again, Billy's feet automatically lead the way to a familiar place. The imposing but silent Command Center hovers above him, its shadow stretching out onto the surrounding streets.

It also touches the blue form that has been a constant in his life for so long. On the ground in front of this place, a symbol begins to make its appearance on a blue arm. It's painful---that much Billy can feel.

But something in Renne's posture and in the air tells him that this is something special. It's clearly something that his friend must do, that will not be denied to him no matter what stands in his way. With quiet fascination, Billy folds his legs underneath himself and watches over his brother.

It hurts.

Like the other one on his left forearm had done, it hurts to nearly anything he's endured in the past. Except this one's different. He doesn't cry out, doesn't make a sound above a whispering litany. Simply whispering as tears stream from his eyes and the etching on his arm grows.

Down deep to the bone, it grows and layered through flesh, it grows.

Names are repeated through clenched teeth and slow, tightly controlled breaths. This doesn't look all that pleasant to be honest -- but since when did tattooing not involve good bits of blood and physical discomfort?

At least he'd not stain these grounds with his blue or his peculiar inks, no. He'd procured a sheet, that the ground here might be kept pristine.

Seeing Renne hurt in any way is always painful for him. Billy clenches his fists at his side, needing to hold himself back from trying to interfere. Renne wants this.

But that doesn't mean Billy has to feel completely calm and happy about it.

He waits silently, anxiously, maintaining that vigil.

It takes a bit, but that's the way of tattooing. It doesn't happen in an instant.

Still, when it's finally done, he lets out a deep sigh of oncoming relief. The work isn't quite visible until he gingerly licks the self-inflicted "wound" so that his thin blood might clot. Which, it does once the chemical reaction occurs.

There it is now, in all its vivid glory: A brand new tattoo.

Finally.

Though he wasn't the one inflicting the painful procedure on himself, Billy's sigh of relief is audible as well. That brother-is-hurt anxiety is never pleasant.

With a slight smile, Billy leans forward to study it.

"Hey bro," he whispers.

"Eee -- Bee?"

There's a very slight jump and an almost-yip there. He'd not expected anyone but he's neither angry nor surprised. He's not angry since, if he wanted to be alone alone, well. It'd happen, plain and simple. He's not surprised either.

After all, look where he is.

"I was wondering where you'd been."

There's a relieved smile playing across his face now.

"What brought this on?" Come on, he's really curious.

"Eee, Rrrr-enne be heerrrre."

Chirp. A few more deep breaths and he's wrapping his arm in a strip of cloth he'd had set aside for this. It's more to protect the newly made tattoo in its early stages than anything else.

"Wha-t Bee mean?"

Billy nodded, making sure the tattoo was safely wrapped before speaking again. An infection wouldn't be fun for them to deal with at all.

"You're not the type of person who would get a tattoo because they wanted to look more appealing to others. I'm sure it means something special to you."

"Eee. Eey-ess. Is fohrrr Bee."

Quietly, he offers the Human a look at the tattoo image's ultimate meaning for him and further, why he'd chosen such a deep, painful method.

Bone-deep for the magnitude of it all. Permanence, anchor and stars for the steady assurance and the light of salvation. Salvation Billy himself had brought, salvation that Renne did not believe possible for one as he.

The images filter into his mind slowly, but he soon understands the meaning of all this. It represents the depth of their influence on each other, the gifts they've given. With all of that overload, the emotions lingering just beneath the surface are enough to make him rather light-headed.

I'm that special?

All he can do is smile a little and give a very gentle poke.

Yes.

Renne...I...

Is someone speechless? You've done a real number on him, Renne. Billy opens his mouth once or twice, trying to form the words, but it seems that the third time's the charm.

"It's my honor to be here with you."

Billy fleetingly thinks about several things---the possibility of getting his own tattoo, the meaning of their current location, and the pain he'd witnessed. Afraid to risk jarring the healing arm, Billy settles for sending out his love and gratitude instead.

He needn't say a word.

Renne just offers his smile and a flashing display of that colour he'd long since dubbed Billy Cranston blue. He'd chosen this location for a number of reasons -- one of which is that this place is to him, a holy of holies. Another? Simply put, it's the perfect place to dedicate a permanent mark of honour to his Bonded.

"Rrrr-enne lo-ve Bee. Do fohrrr Bee." A beat later..."Bee is goo-d? Noh hurrr-ted?"

In lieu of a hug, Renne gets a gentle paw squeeze. The human glances up the wall of the Command Center and smiles.

"No, I'm unhurt. The only pain I feel at the moment is the type that stems from imagining what you just did to yourself."

"Eee..."

That gets an apologetic blush. Chirping, his paw squeezes the Human's fingers back.

"Rrrr-enne noh wahn-t hurrr-t Bee. Is..." How do you explain...well, that?

"Is what?"

Now you have a confused and curious brother on your hands.

"Is Bee...hurrr-ted? Is mad?"

There's the faintest flash of almost-amber there. Unbidden, a memory almost reaches out but he squashes it back down into the past where it belongs.

"No, why would I be? This was your choice, and if it makes you happy then it pleases me too."

Billy shakes his head and glances down at Renne. Is something wrong?

"Eee."

That earns a smile, then a nudge. Ears twitching, Renne gives the Human a one-armed embrace. The shadows are indeed put back where they belong.

"Wha-t Bee do naow?"

Billy gladly returns the hug, careful not to jar the healing arm, but that question draws his own shadows back up to the surface. He'd come to this place for a reason that had had nothing to do with Renne at first, after all.

"I came here to try to remember my old friends. I was thinking of them this morning, and I realized that I can no longer recall them perfectly."

And that scares him quite a bit.

Even in mid-embrace, a shadow falls over his expression as he hears that. That, to him, is not good at all.

Yet what could he do?

The question rings in his head as Renne adopts a thoughtful posture. He recalls what few tales he knows and hopes his question doesn't come out as the feeble thing it sounds like.

"May-bee Rrrr-enne hell-p? Rrrr-enne noh wahn-t Bee lose tha-t."

Billy shakes his head sadly. "I don't think I'm in immediate danger of forgetting who they are or what they meant to me. Those memories last a long time. It's...more of a concern of remembering what they were like. When I close my eyes, I can't remember their faces or hear their voices as clearly as I used to. It's just a symptom of extended time apart."

Not that he sounds happy about it at all. By now, Rocky, Aisha, and Adam have been missing from his life for longer than he'd known them, and Tommy would be approaching that point soon as well.

"Eeee. S-till. Bee wahn-t hell-p?"

All he can do is offer. He knows precious little about the people so much a part of Billy Cranston but it's enough. It's enough for him to know they mean this much and that he's worried of forgetting...Simply put, Renne can't think of backing down from trying to keep that from happening.

"I'm not sure what you can do for me, Renne. The neural pathways are degrading with disuse, and I've yet to invent something that can fix that."

The boy almost sounds hopeless, a strange sound for him.

He has little idea as to what neural pathways are. He does however, know what "degrade" means and in a wordless reply, his left paw extends up and forward a bit.

"Renne?"

Billy stares at him in surprise, as if trying to figure out what the intention is. He's not at his most logical right now.

"Hell-p? Noh dee-grrrayde."

He keeps his paw up and his voice tone soft, sure. He'd mostly managed physical and emotional ailments in the past but memories? It's relatively new.

New and worth a try if it rescues something so valuable to the Human from oblivion.

Ah, he thinks he sees the purpose of this now. If that doesn't help, he doesn't know what will.

"All right. Come in," Billy offers, slowly lifting his hand to the paw.

Squeak.

Even now, with an intent in his mind, the honour of doing this never escapes him. The awe and reverence has never left him...

He stands at the 'doorway', breathing deeply as if to calm his nerves. He'd known precisely what he'd just asked to assist and yet the enormity of it still manages to take him for a loop.
His first 'words' are more to himself. A stern reminder, a determined promise.

"His, they are his. They are Holy and will not fade."

Billy's awareness refocuses on the center of the lighted platform, where the memories of his teammates reside. There are now several smaller ones with the lights of new friends from Stacy, including a bright silvery-blue one that should be VERY familiar to Renne, but this central platform is where the people he's interested in at the moment reside.

He looks up and smiles. With Renne here, he feels safe and confident.

"Over here," Billy calls out, sitting near the center of this platform. "Should I show you what I can remember?"

Edited 2010-07-11 23:13 (UTC)

A bow of his head and Renne proceeds forward, toward Billy's call. While he knows the most basic layout, the new additions give him cause to 'step' carefully. Running into things is embarrassing, no matter where or when you are.

"Please? One not wish thee, lose what hold so well to who thee are."

"All right. I guess I should start from the beginning."

Billy walks over to the first red light and touches it, feeling a surge of strength pulse through him as he does so. He concentrates, trying to imagine the warm face this spirit presented to the outside world.

"This is Jason Lee Scott. He is one of the most giving and compassionate people I've ever met. He was my first friend as a child---I was often bullied due to my 'nerdiness', and Jason used his strength to protect me without expecting anything in return. From then on, we were unlikely friends. When we became Rangers, he was the Red Ranger and our leader. He was someone we could all follow and trust with our lives. It was he who began to teach me to become stronger and find balance in my life. He was patient as well---no matter how stunted my progress was, he never gave up on me."

Billy bowed his head, trying his best to absorb all that he could.

He listens with silent reverence at first, unmoving yet moved by the tale. Without entirely understanding what he's doing, his right hand, even so newly tattooed with his arm wrapped, extends toward this red.

Red. Jason. Jason. Jason.

The name comes out of his mouth like a mantra, a reverent mantra, quietly beseeching in a language that consists of one word.

"Ja-son. Ja-son. Ja-son. Ja-son."

"What?"

Billy lifts his head, slightly puzzled by this development. He thinks Renne is trying to touch what Billy carries of Jason somehow and commit that to memory, but he can't be certain.

He simply waits for his next cue.

Red. Jason. Red. Jason. Red. Fire. Spirit. Red. Jason.

The words come out both spoken and unspoken as his fingers reverently brush that place. That concept, that time-being-place-thing-era-person-name. Before he can stop it, his voice speaks.

"Memory. Speak. Memory. Jason. Jason. Memory. Who? What? Speak."

If his inner self needed to breathe, he would be taking a deep breath right now.

"Jason...I guess I'll start with what I remember of his appearance. He was slightly taller than I am, and always more muscular. His skin was tanner than mine, but still on the lighter end of the spectrum. He had neatly cropped hair---dark brown, close to black, and his eyes were...brown." That was correct, right? Well, it felt right.

"His voice was deeper than mine. It always sounded warm and encouraging when we were discussing things as friends, but on the battlefield he was a compelling leader with the loudest voice of all of us." That much he remembered well.

"He led by example. Every day after school, he taught martial arts classes, but the focus was on discipline and learning to get along with others. Actual fighting technique always came second to learning to use it well." A happy sigh. Yes, that's how he'd learned.

"And he never denied anyone in need of help. When my friend Tommy first recovered from being under an evil spell, he was the first to reach out and forgive him. Whenever anyone asked for help, he was always there and giving his best. With him around, we never lacked cohesion as a group. And I never lacked a friend to confide in and rely on for strength when I needed it."

Billy leaned close to the light, trying to preserve all those memories and lock them in.

Edited 2010-07-11 23:53 (UTC)

He can't help but smile at that.

With the description, the words and colour-sensations flow around him, through him as if he's drinking all of this in. He is, in a way, still chanting the few words that slowly become, in his own mind, the Jason-Language.

"Ja-son. Red. Warm. Strong. Ja-son. Ja-son. Deep. Ja-son. Ja-son."

His hand moves as if of its own accord now; a finger tracing a seemingly unintelligible path on the red that is Jason. He's only aware of one thing: This is Jason. Jason will not be forgotten. Jason is here.

"Ja-son. Here. Ja-son. Touch. Ja-son. Speak. Ja-son. Live."

"He's here, I can feel it."

For a fleeting moment, Billy can almost feel the warm hand on his shoulder as clearly as if they had never been apart. He feels comforted by a familiar presence that both is and isn't.

"Thanks Jase. Now...I guess I should start describing the others, huh?"

"Ja-son Song here. Not-gone. Ja-son."

Drums. Deep, percussive, thundering drums are his perception of Jason Language. Deep, rolling thunder-drums and Red.

Bowing, he backs away from the red that is Jason and nods quietly to Billy's voice.

Billy listens intently and absorbs it, extracting every shred of memory that he can and holding onto it.

Then, he smiles and starts to touch the other lights. First, the older yellow and black ones.

"This is Trini Kwan. She was the first Yellow Ranger---a powerful martial artist, a kind mediator, and a best friend. She was my connection to the others at first. Whenever they didn't understand my words, she was always there to translate my complicated phrasing into a simpler speech pattern. But that wasn't all she did for me. We worked together in the laboratory, helping the other Rangers find solutions to the predicaments we fond ourselves in.

Like Jason, she was always patient with me, but she was very kind in a different way. Always understanding of my concerns and willing to spend time with me when the others were off on an adventure. She encouraged me to emerge from my social shell, but she never pushed my limits in a way that made me uncomfortable. When we were together, I felt that I was with the first person who truly and completely understood me.

She was tall---slightly shorter than myself, but thin enough to give the appearance of being taller. She had long, sleek black hair, kind dark eyes, and a smile that stretched her face. She always wore yellow with a quiet dignity that never called attention to itself. That was what made her special. Her voice was soft and soothing, almost reminding me of the sound of the ocean."

As he brushed his fingers over her light, he started to feel her presence there as well.

Like before, he's going completely on instinct.

His hand reverently touches the yellow that is Trini and his voice rings out in a low whisper. The Trini Language forms just as Jason Language had before and his patterns on the yellow differ from the red.

"Tri-ni. Tri-ni. Peace. Whisper. Tri-ni. Tri-ni. Here. Here."

He listens to her song as well and rejoices in it, almost able to feel her smile.

"Trini..."

After a moment of quiet respect for her, he guides them over to the black light next to hers.

"This is Zackary Taylor, though we usually called him Zack. He had a bright, happy voice and always greeted the world with a smile. Of all of us, he was perhaps the sunniest. He never walked anywhere that he could skip, and he never stood still when he could dance. When we felt discouraged, he always reminded us that we has so much to be thankful for."

Billy smiled, remembering a particularly innovative dance sequence. "That wasn't all he brought us, though. As the Black Ranger, he was one of our best warriors. He was an excellent tactician, and his plans to defeat the enemies in front of us almost always succeeded. It helped that he was too clever for most of them to catch." He had to smile to himself at that.

"He had brown skin, bright brown eyes, and carefully arranged hair. He was only slightly shorter than myself, but he had a more toned build from years of dancing and martial arts training. His face was one of the happiest I have ever seen, and that was something I needed in my life more than I realized.

And he was always there. When we needed him, he could quickly mow down monsters on the battlefield or join Trini and I in the laboratory. If I couldn't devise a solution to a problem, he often could by looking at the available resources in a way my narror mindset never considered."

A fond smile for Zack crossed his face.

He bows to Trini and bids a conclusion to her in the Trini Language.

When he reaches Zack, the process repeats as two more instruments come to mind and Zack Language forms in upbeat earnest.

Trini, of soft bells and Zack of a sprightly, faster, lighter-hearted percussion compared to the thunder of Jason.

"Zhack. Zhack. Here. Joy. Zhack. Joy. Brightjoy. Here. Speak. Speak. Zhack."

"I think he wants to sing," sighs Billy happily, feeling Zack's warmth around him as well. No, that Black Ranger was definitely unforgettable.

Smiling, he guides them to the soft pink light. "This is Kimberly Ann Hart, though her friends usually addressed her as Kim. She was the Pink Ranger, always graceful and free. Unlike the rest of us, she took to the skies in her Zords. Oddly enough, that suited her personality."

A nostalgic smile crossed his face. "No one ever expected that Kimberly and I would have anything in common. She was popular---a gymnast, a cheerleader, loud, bold, and beautiful. I was a gangly nerd, considered a powerful antidote to cheerleaders everywhere. But Kimberly wasn't like the rest. In each other, we found people who understood the strange contradictions of life. We were both destined to be more than the roles society placed us in, and we knew it from the beginning."

Feeling the warm confidence she brought on, he continued. "She was the emotional core of our group. Like Zack, she tried to remain optimistic, but her love was more personal and mothering. She wanted each of us to take care of ourselves and be as strong as we could. She taught me to see myself in the mirror as I truly was, not the worthless person others told me I was."

"She was the shortest of us, built like a swift athlete. Her eye were a light brown, as was her hair. Sometimes she pushed it back from her face with a pink ribbon. She had a lovely voice that she sometimes used for singing, but it was always steady. When she laughed, it was...one of the cutest sounds in the world."

And he was sticking to that.

A farewell bow to Trini and Zack. When he reaches the pink of Kim, Renne smiles.

Her Kim Language comes off as bubbly, yet soft and steady in his ears. Her song feels and smells of something windward, skyward. Where Trini marks Serenity in his eyes, Kim marks a maverick boldness with the almost deceptive smoke screen of "airheaded mall rat".

"Kim. Here. Laugh. Joy. Fly. Kim. Kim. Laugh, sing, wind. Sky. Kim. Kim."

In Renne's ears, the Kim Language brings the airy, fey sound of flutes to the growing ensemble of the others.

"That's definitely Kimberly." After a few more minutes of reminiscence, he turns their thoughts and attention to the greenish-white light on the floor.

"And this is Tommy Oliver. Unlike the first four I introduced you to, Zordon didn't choose him on that first day. He was chosen some time later by our enemy, Rita Repulsa, who warped him into the evil Green Ranger."

Billy shudders, remembering his own stint with evil not too long ago. "Luckily we managed to rescue him, and he became our loyal friend. He was like Jason in many ways---a powerful warrior, compassionate, and courageous. I think his time as an evil Ranger always affected him. He worked harder than any of us to do his best as a hero to atone for what he'd done. I now know what that's like."

He touches the light. "Because his powers originated from evil, they were never really stable. They were completely drained once, partially restored, and then drained again. I believe that made him even more focused on fighting with the time he had left. Eventually, Zordon found a way to give him stable powers as the White Ranger, and he became the team leader when Jason left us."

"I didn't know Tommy as well as Jason and Kimberly did, but I knew I could count on him."

He whispers farewell to the pink and Kim-Language.

Her light winds bring another layer to this growing orchestra. As he moves to the green/white, Renne actually flinches a little.

Green.

And then he traces GreenWhite's pattern; the Tommy-Language coming to him in a rising orchestral swell that speaks of something. Something the others intensify, just as it intensifies the others.

"Tom-me. Tom-me. Tomme. Redeem. Forgive. Speak! Tomme! Rise. Stand. Speak. Tomme!"

Etched in Bone

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