Disclaimer: Don't own them, never have, never will except in my imagination. A bit of non profit fun with the kids. Set during the Ninja period.

Life Interrupted

Football season was rolling around again, and the athletically minded Juniors and Seniors at Angel Grove High were gathered at the gym to pick up the permission slips and medical clearance forms needed to allow them to participate. The four male members of the Power Rangers team were standing together reviewing the forms and discussing the upcoming season.

"Oh, man, all we have to do is win just ONE more game this season and we should make the playoffs," Tommy mused as he folded the paperwork and tucked it in his backpack. "We were so close last year!"

"Well, mathematically that's not exactly accurate," Billy pointed out a bit distractedly as he looked for a pen that seemed to be hiding at the bottom of his backpack. "If the wins and losses are distributed more unequally among other teams we may need more wins to qualify." He glanced up from his search to see his three friends looking a bit annoyed.

"Way to buzz kill," Rocky grumped, slapping at the blond's head without any real malice. "We need to think positively."

"Well, technically, the same theory could result in Angel Grove High needing fewer wins to qualify as well," the team genius amended with a slight, wry smile.

"Better," the Red Ranger nodded, grinning in his good natured way, "Because I plan to end my High School football career on a high note!" The exuberant teen threw both arms up in the air his hands clenched into fists as he jumped up and down celebrating the expected success. Only Adam noticed that his best friend flinched a bit and rubbed his left upper arm when he finished.

"You okay," the Asian teen asked quietly.

"Oh sure, it's just a muscle pull or something,. Nothing that's going to bother me," Rocky replied with a reassuring smile. "I'm going to be the starting team's tight end, after all."

Adam, who planned to try out as a wide receiver, grinned back and clapped Rocky on the back as they followed Tommy and Billy out the door, surrounded by the sounds of the other equally optimistic students touting the strengths of Angel Grove High's football team.

Katherine and Aisha, fresh from cheerleader tryouts, were waiting at the gang's favorite table at the Youth Center. The boys took their seats and Ernie came over to take their order. Once the portly owner had left the girls asked how the football meeting had gone.

"Great. All we need to do is have our folks sign the permission slips and our doctors to give us the 'all clear' and we are in," Tommy reported. "How did tryouts go?"

"Well….." Aisha said, her face falling.

"You've got to be kidding, no way you didn't make it," Rocky interjected, looking downright offended that the two girls didn't make the squad.

"We both made the team," Katherine reported, smiling at Rocky for his show of support. "We will be right there to cheer you boys on."

"It's not nice to tease, Aisha," Rocky scolded his friend, working up a severe disapproving frown he could only maintain for a few seconds. "I was ready to find out who I had to beat up to get you girls on the team."

"Yeah, right, you are soooo scary," the spunky Yellow Ranger shot back, taking a sip of the just delivered smoothie.

"Hmph," he groused, discarding his straw and taking a huge gulp of his strawberry-banana concoction.

"I just hope we get enough of a break from Zedd and Rita to let us have our practices and games," Tommy noted. "It'd be kind of hard to morph out in the third quarter, you know."

"Especially for the quarterback," Aisha shot back teasingly.

"If I make the team," the Ranger leader said quietly. "You know, Preston has gotten bigger and stronger since last year, he may be better."

"Yeah, but he's just a junior, and he has next year," Adam commented in his quiet way. "I'm betting he's your backup this year, and the starter next year."

"So when do we have to have these forms in?" Rocky wondered, pulling out his already rumpled paperwork. "Next Friday?"

"That's what they were saying," Billy replied. "I'll call our doctor when I get home to see if I can get in. If not they said the Family Health Center will do the pre season exams this coming week for any students who can't see their regular physician. It's really just a formality."

The conversation segued to other subjects before the group split up to head to their respective homes.

*PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPR*

Rocky sighed, shifting a bit on the examination table at the Family Health Center. His family's pediatrician was booked too solid to work him in, so he'd called the Center and was able to make a Tuesday afternoon appointment. Dr. Robles was a small, dark haired man who bustled in with a flurry of white coat and words of greeting.

"Good afternoon, Rockwell. How are you feeling today?" he asked, smiling at the young man.

"I'm okay," Rocky replied, feeling a little intimidated. He hated seeing the doctor at any time, but since he didn't know this one he was feeling especially vulnerable. Who wouldn't, sitting there trying to have a conversation while wearing nothing but boxers?

"You want to play football, huh?" the doctor continued, consulting the paperwork Rocky had filled out earlier. His over worked Mama had agreed to let the teen come alone since she had three younger ones with special activities that afternoon. "What position do you plan to play?" the doctor continued.

"Oh, uh, tight end," he said, as always a little embarrassed when reporting his position. Really, it just didn't sound quite as innocent as, say, a linebacker.

"Ah, so you are a fast runner?"

"Pretty good. Especially when someone bigger is chasing me." The teen couldn't quite help infusing some humor into the conversation.

Dr. Robles chuckled in reply as he set the clipboard aside. "Well, lie down and let's take a look at you."

The exam was same as always, though Dr. Robles was much more prone to asking questions and actually appearing to listen to the answers than his regular doctor. It was nice to be treated as he figured adults were treated by the physician. When Dr. Robles ran a firm hand over Rocky's upper left arm he notice the teen's flinch of pain.

"That hurts?" he asked gently, moving his hand back to the tender area.

"Yeah, it has been for a while. Figured I'd pulled or strained something," the teen replied with a shrug.

"How long is 'a while'?" he asked probing a little more firmly and frowning at Rocky's reaction.

"Uh, maybe a month or so?" the Red Ranger replied a little nervously. He didn't like the doctor's expression at all.

"Do you remember injuring it?"

"No, nothing comes to mind. I mean, I do karate a lot, play sports with my friends, that kind of thing. I don't always notice when I get hit," Rocky mused, partly to himself. "Could have been anything." He certainly couldn't mention that he got banged around a lot by Rita and Zedd's various minions and monsters.

"Minions and monsters and bears, oh my," his mind chanted whimsically, causing the teen to smile without thinking, as always amused and surprised at the weird stuff that popped into his head, usually at an inappropriate time such as this. Thankfully the doctor had turned away to consult something on his chart and didn't notice the grin.

"I'm going to have my nurse take an X-ray of this arm, just to be sure nothing is going on in there. We have a small machine right here, so she will be by in a few minutes to take you for that. Then we will talk some more," the doctor decided, writing up an order for the X-ray.

A few minutes a matronly nurse came in, handing Rocky a gown and studiously ignoring the teen's discomfort at his state of undress. She beckoned him to follow her to a small room dominated by a huge machine that stood in the middle.

Kindly and efficiently she set him up for the X-rays then escorted him back to what he was already starting to consider 'his room'. It was almost a half hour before Dr. Robles returned, looking less cheerful than when Rocky had seen him last. The nurse accompanied him, a tray of ominous looking instruments in her hands.

"I'm going to have Gloria pull some blood for testing," the physician told him. Rocky's apprehension increased, he hadn't seen anything about needing blood tests on the paperwork for the medical clearance.

"Doctor, what is going on? What did the X-ray show?" Though at 17 Rocky was considered a bit of a goofball and clown, there was a well of strength in the teen that could be called upon when needed. The doctor considered the young man a moment before replying.

"I see an abnormality in the Humerus bone in your arm," he said at last. "It could be a number of things, the blood tests will help us determine what it is. You may also need to have a biopsy."

"A biopsy?" Rocky asked faintly, feeling suddenly ill. "You think I have cancer?" In his large, extended family there had been more than a few cases of cancer among the elder members. Only two years ago his maternal grandmother had lost her fight against breast cancer.

"I don't know what you have yet," the doctor replied firmly. "We are hoping to rule that out. It could be a simple injury that healed abnormally. Or yes, it could be cancer. It is my job to find out which it is."

"Okay," Rocky muttered, holding out his arm for the nurse. Dr. Robles left again, and Gloria worked as gently as she could on the now skittish young man.

"Dr. Robles, he's one of the best I've worked with," she commented reassuringly. "And I've worked with a lot. He'll make sure you are well taken care of."

"I can't just….I can't believe I may have cancer. I don't feel sick," he said, sighing deeply.

"Sometimes you don't. And this may be a blessing in disguise. You've just had a little pain, right? No loss of weight, feeling ill, anything like that?" When the teen shook his head in the negative she continued, "Then if – and that is a big 'if' mind you – IF you have cancer, we may have caught it very early."

"What cancer could be in my bones?" he wondered.

"It's called osteosarcoma," she said gently, filling the fourth vial with blood. Rocky counted a total of six vials, which only increased his worry.

"What will the blood tests tell us?"

"There are some 'markers' that can indicate the presence of a malignancy. Also we need to see if you are for instance suffering from an infection, if you are deficient in any vitamins, if your blood counts are normal. All sorts of things."

She was just finishing up when the doctor returned with a sheaf of paperwork.

"Rockwell, I want you and at least one of your parents to return on Friday and we will go over the test results. In the meantime, please remember, this could be nothing. Try not to worry," he reassured the teenager. "The girls at the front desk will schedule your appointment."

*PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPR*

It was the longest three days of Rocky's life from Tuesday afternoon to Friday at 3:45 when, accompanied by both his very worried parent, Rocky found himself again in the small examination room, made so much smaller by the presence of two parents and a sense of foreboding that could not be denied.

Rocky had not told anyone of what happened Tuesday, having decided on his walk home to wait until they knew the full story before telling his friends. Of course, his parents were a different matter, and telling his mama that he might be ill was one of the hardest things the teen had ever done. Consuela De Santos was a strong woman; with seven children she was used to the occasional emergency and skilled at hiding her worries from the youngsters. She took the news from Rocky in a very matter-of-fact manner and sent him off to do his homework. It was only late that night, with all the children asleep, that she let loose with her tears of fear for her oldest child. Her burly contractor husband, Javier, held her and let his own worried tears fall unnoticed on her still perfectly dark hair. But in the morning it was business as usual and there was no discussion of the doctor appointment on Friday. Even on the drive to the office the three DeSantos sat quietly, each lost in their own worried thoughts.

Dr. Robles came in a few minutes later, and considered the three anxious people in the now crowded room before he spoke.

"There is nothing to be gained by not being direct, so here it is: It appears that the mass in Rockwell's arm may be a cancerous tumor. The blood work came back with a number of issues and results I don't like to see in seventeen year old. I took the liberty of scheduling an appointment for a biopsy this evening at the hospital. We will have the results of that by Monday, when I'd like you to come back in. At that time we will know for sure if it is malignant."

Over the next few minutes the doctor and the family went over the blood work results, and where and how the biopsy would be done. With a few more minutes before they would need to leave for the hospital, Consuela finally asked the questions foremost in her mind.

"If it is a cancer, how will we treat it? What are his chances? How sick will he get?" she wondered, keeping her voice steady and her eyes dry by force of will.

"If it is cancer, we will have to remove the tumor via surgery. What type of surgery will depend on the size and how advance the cancer is. It appeared on the X-ray to be quite small, so we'd probably be able to simply remove that segment of bone and replace it with a metal rod. Rockwell has finished growing, so that makes it little less complicated. Then in almost all cases, chemotherapy is recommended to give the patient the best long term survival chances. Chemo can be hard, no one thinks it is fun, but it's six months or so of misery to help ensure in this young man's case up to eighty years of life. Doesn't seem too bad a trade off, does it?"

Javier mustered up a smile. "Seems a fair enough trade, I suppose. But I'd rather it not ever happen," he admitted honestly.

"As I also wish," Dr. Robles assured them as they gathered their stuff to head to the hospital.

*PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPR*

The biopsy had gone easily enough, under local anesthesia they'd extracted what they needed for testing then bandaged Rocky's arm with instructions to keep it clean and apply fresh dressings daily for five days. Still not wanting to discuss the situation with his friends he wore longer sleeved shirts and avoided discussing the permission slips for football. In fact, he mostly avoided his friends, caught up in his own worry he isolated himself over the weekend, claiming family obligations. Monday afternoon took an age to arrive, but at long last he and his parents were sitting silently once again in the now familiar examination room.

Dr. Robles arrived five minutes later looking anything but happy.

"I'm sorry," he said without preamble, "But the biopsy shows the tumor is indeed malignant."

Consuela's hand tightened convulsively on Javier's, but she met the doctor's gaze unflinchingly. "What do we do next?"

"I'm going to refer you to Dr. Delmar, an orthopedic surgeon, who will do the surgery and then to Dr. Kelso, an oncologist who will do the follow-up treatment. They often work together; their staffs are accustomed to sharing information, so it should work smoothly for you. I'm so sorry, Rockwell. But on the plus side, I'm hoping it was caught early enough that it hasn't metastasized, spread to other organs."

"Rocky," the teen muttered, looking dazed by the conversation. It was all he could think to say.

"Pardon?" the physician replied.

"I go by Rocky," he explained, mustering up a half smile. "Probably should have mentioned before."

Dr. Robles smile was kind and sympathetic. "I'll be following your case, Rocky. And wishing for all the best results."

*PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPR*

Dr. Delmar was tall, red-haired and jolly. When they met Rocky's first thought was that the man was destined to grow up to be Santa Claus. Add a white beard and wig and a red suit and he'd be ready to go. His hands looked impossibly large and unwieldy to be a surgeon's, but the family had done some research and found his reputation to be impeccable. He met with the DeSantos's two days after Dr. Robles had delivered his devastating diagnosis and informed them he wanted to do the surgery on Friday. Rocky was beginning to feel like he was on a sort of medical roller coaster that he couldn't get off of no matter how dizzyingly fast things moved.

Blood work, further X-rays and other tests were ordered, with the family instructed to have Rocky at Angel Grove Memorial Hospital by 6:30 a.m. on Friday. The orthopedic surgeon reassured the worried parents that Rocky in all likelihood would be fine, at his age and as healthy as he was there was only the slightest possibility of complications. But the paperwork included a section that explained that it was possible that complications COULD occur, and potential outcomes could include the loss of the arm entirely or death.

Leaving the surgeon's appointment Rocky knew it was time to inform his friends of what was going on, and to let Zordon know it was time to find a new Red Power Ranger. He'd been incredibly lucky that no attacks had occurred during the various medical appointments he'd had, but that could not be expected to continue. The only responsible decision would be to relinquish the powers to someone who was not facing the health woes he had.

Decision made, he went to Zordon first.

He teleported in to the Command Center to find Alpha 5 puttering around, actually dusting the various control panels. For some reason that struck Rocky as hilarious.

"Really, that's what you do when we're not under attack?" he asked chuckling when the small robot turned and saw him.

"Rocky. What? Oh…." Alpha put the dust rag down and managed to look a bit shamefaced at being caught doing house cleaning by a member of the team.

Still giggling a bit the soon to be former Red Ranger hastened to reassure Zordon's trusted assistant. "It's okay, it makes sense. It's not like I've ever noticed this place being dusty. Should have figured someone was cleaning it. Didn't mean to sound disrespectful," he added, actually a bit ashamed of teasing Alpha. How in the world did the little guy manage to look so embarrassed without an actual face?

"What can we do for you, Rocky?" Zordon's deep voice somewhat startled Rocky as he'd not noticed the team mentor's arrival.

"Uh, oh, well….um…I need to I guess resign, or something," he stuttered, suddenly unsure of himself.

"Why do you need to resign?" Zordon queried, lowering his tone to as reassuring a level as he could. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, yeah. I'm sick. They are going to operate on me on Friday." A thought suddenly occurred to him, one he realized he should have had a week ago. "Unless you can do something with your technology to fix it?" he asked, his heart in his throat with the sudden surge of hope he felt.

"Rocky, that falls under the personal gain rule. I'm so sorry, but to do that would actually cause all the powers to be withdrawn from the entire team, and Rita and Zedd would prevail in this time and place. These rules are outside my ability to change. May I ask what is wrong with you?" The ancient one's face reflected painful anticipation of what the teen would report. Unfortunately it was not his first time dealing with a young Ranger who'd fallen ill outside the spectrum of the Ranger duties.

"They told me it's called Osteosarcoma, a bone cancer. They are going to remove part of my arm bone here," he indicated an area on his left arm just above the elbow, "then insert a metal rod to replace the lost bone. Then I'll have to go through chemotherapy for at least six months they expect," he reported, looking anything but happy at that prospect.

"Do they believe this course of action will cure the disease?"

"They seem to think so. They don't actually SAY that, but Mama says doctors never really say all they think, just what they believe you need to hear. "

"Do you have a suggestion for a replacement on the team?" Zordon asked.

Rocky had considered that for the last few days and had a ready answer. "Yeah, either Curtis – you know, Zack's cousin - or Richie. Either one would probably do well, and the rest of the team at least knows them."

Zordon nodded his approval. He always had potential replacement rangers in mind. Using teenagers as rangers was the most practical method – adults were too mentally rigid and oftentimes too distracted by their civilian life to serve effectively – but it came with built in disadvantages. Members moving, graduating, getting sick or injured - it all happened at one time or another. He'd learned over the eons to be prepared at all times. In this case he'd already been watching both the teens Rocky mentioned as potential future rangers. His personal preference was Curtis.

"We will contact Curtis to see if he is willing to serve. In the meantime can you continue for a little while longer?" the ancient one asked.

"Oh, sure. I have a bunch of pre-op tests I have to do, but otherwise I'll be around as usual. I'm…I guess….well, I need to tell the rest of the team, they don't know yet," Rocky reported, studying the toes of his sneakers. "I'm not looking forward to that."

"They will understand, Rocky. As I do. I'll keep an eye on you, and if there turns out to be any way we can help, I will make sure you get it," Zordon informed him gently.

"You're going to watch me? Like….all the time?" he asked with wide eyes.

Zordon couldn't help but chuckle a little, he'd always been fond of Rocky's humor. "Only when appropriate, as always," he reassured the teen.

"Thank you." In a streak of ruby light the dark haired teen headed out to find his teammates, his friends, to let them know what was going on.

To be continued….

Author note: Part 1 reposted in hopes the formatting between scenes will come through….