Loyalty
By Daylight

He kept looking for the yellow eyes.

From the first time Anton started screaming at him because he'd left his art supplies out on the patio, Trent began searching his father's face for those lizard eyes sure that somehow they'd been wrong and Mesogog was still in there. But they weren't there. Neither was the pale, sweat-drenched look Anton used to get whenever he was losing control of his evil half.

The eyes were blue. It wasn't Mesogog. It was just Anton Mercer, his dad.

There wasn't just screaming and shouting, though that was bad enough. There was the broken down crying he heard wailing through the night. Even grown ups are allowed to cry, he told himself and his father certainly had been through a lot. But how was an eighteen year old boy supposed to comfort his adult father?

The moods swung wildly. One moment he was shouting with enthusiasm at a new experimental breakthrough. The next he was yelling as he tore apart the lab when one of his experiments failed.

It felt like history was repeating as Trent found himself spending all his time at the Cyberspace or with his friends, because he didn't want to go home, not knowing what to expect when he got there. There was nothing he could do that was right. When he finally arrived home, he was either late or too early and interrupting one of Anton's experiments. He wore long shirts to hide the bruise where his dad had painfully gripped his arm as he'd tossed him out of his lab.

Trent knew something was wrong, but there was no threat here. No evil plans for world domination or the restoration of the dinosaurs. What could his friends do if he told them? This wasn't Mesogog. They couldn't fight him.

Maybe there was nothing wrong with his father, what if there was something wrong with him. His father and him had never seen eye to eye on most subjects. Maybe his father was simply tired of being stuck with an artist for a son. Maybe he was regretting his decision to take Trent in. Trent had always known it had been more a feeling of obligation than caring that had led Dr. Mercer to take in the orphaned son of his former employees.

Well, only a few more weeks before he was at college and then he was gone. He could always find excuses not to come home for the holidays. No more screamed at lectures, no more sneaking in and out, just the freedom to do what he wanted and a lot of lonely Christmases.

Despite all this, Trent never saw the inevitable until it was too late.

He came home from a late shift at the café to find his father in his room tossing all his art supplies into a garbage bag.

"Dad, what are you doing?"

"It's about time you gave up all these silly childish things. You need to concentrate on what's important."

"We already discussed this. Drawing is my life, my dream."

"Business, science, that's life," insisted Anton. He tore one of Trent's artworks off the wall and waved it about. "This is not life. This is a made up world thrown onto a piece of paper."

With that he hauled the garbage bag out to the living room where Trent could already see one of his sketchbooks burning in the fireplace.

"No, Dad. Don't." The former white ranger grabbed his father's arm in order to prevent him from destroying more of his work. That's when all his ranger instincts failed him.

He never saw the fist that hit his head, just felt the ringing impact against his skull that knocked him flat. It took a few moments to shake the daze enough for him to bring his arms up to block the following blows. By that time, he'd already felt his ribs crack. He couldn't bring himself to fight back even if it were possible.

After a few minutes each feeling more like an eternity, the blows stopped and Trent glanced out from behind his arms to find his father looking down upon him with a look of confusion.

"Trent?" Anton reached down to touch him, but Trent pushed himself away across the floor. "Trent, I'm so sorry."

Trent slowly sat up cradling his ribs, not willing to move his aching body much further. "It's okay, Dad," he said shakily.

"It's not, okay. I've been so stressed recently dealing with the mess Mesogog left I've been taking it out on you."

Trent nodded not looking up, not wanting to see the guilty look in his father's blue eyes.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Anton pleaded. "I know we have problems, but we take care of our own problems in this family, right?"

Trent nodded again.

"You promise you won't tell anyone?"

The former white ranger looked up giving his father a sad smile. "I promise, Dad."

"That's my son. I've always been able to count on you."

Unsteadily, Trent got to his feet backing away when his father offered him a hand.

"Trent, are you…?"

"I'm fine." Trent waved him off. "I'm just going to go to bed."

"Alright. Goodnight, son. We'll go shopping for new art supplies in the morning," Anton called after Trent as he left.

Resting his head in his hands, Trent sat on his bed aching and dizzy, swallowing against the nausea in his throat that he knew was a sure sign of a concussion. He stayed there for several moments starring at the floor. His mind was blank unable to come up with thoughts to express the emotions he was feeling.

When he finally looked up, it was to see one of the few things that had escaped the destruction of his father's rampage. It was a framed photo, a graduation present from Haley. It showed all five dino team members. Kira, Connor, Ethan and Trent had shoved themselves into the red couch at the café, the one only meant for three with Dr. Oliver standing behind them. The candid photo had caught Connor and Ethan in the beginnings of a wrestling match Kira trying to push them away from her as Dr. O rolled his eyes and Trent grinned.

He didn't know how he did it, but suddenly he was in his car fighting his blurring eyesight as he drove away. He found himself opening the door of the Cyberspace café to see Haley's startled face looking up at him.

"Oh my god, Trent! What happened? Were you attacked?"

Trent wanted to laugh as he imagined the images of all the returning monsters Haley was most likely picturing in her head. The café owner gently helped him over to a couch and sat down beside him.

"Trent?" she asked again when he remained silent.

It took several deep breaths, but Trent was finally able to say the words. "Something's wrong with my Dad." And the story came pouring out.

Haley's arm was around him from the first sentence and she never let go through the whole telling. The outflow of everything left him exhausted and numb. Haley insisted she take him to the hospital even though he claimed he was okay. He didn't feel any pain. He didn't feel anything. His body was detached and faraway.

The trip went by in a blur and Trent was soon sitting on a hospital bed in the emergency room waiting for a doctor to take a look at him. Haley must have called Tommy, because he suddenly arrived, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. They stood back talking most likely thinking Trent couldn't hear them, but he's been evil long enough to learn a thing or two about eavesdropping. He couldn't hear everything, but he caught enough. There was talk about how sharing a mind with Mesogog for so long must have left his father unstable and there were mentions of more hospitals and calling the police. Well, Trent supposed it wasn't like they could morph and destroy him. He wasn't that kind of monster.

Dr. Oliver came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You did the right thing," he said offering a look that was meant to be comforting.

Looking into the face of the legendary power ranger, Trent nodded, but couldn't help wondering that if he'd done the right thing, why everything felt so wrong.