Note: "The Lover After Me" is sung by Savage Garden.

He had known there would come a day when the Defense would meet on Elisia. They shifted strategic sessions between member worlds, and Elisia had been a part of the alliance since the day the Frontier Defense had had a name. As an active member of the Defense's governing trio, it had only been a matter of time before duty brought him back here.

The meeting itself had not been particularly noteworthy, aside from the fact that he had for the first time been confronted with the entire Elisian team. In the absence of pressing duties elsewhere, the Rangers of the host planet all attended, and it had been somewhat disconcerting to see four of them there at once.

Four Rangers. Their number was not so strange as it might once have seemed, for the team from Rayven consisted only of two. Unique or not, however, the Elisian team's lack was unmistakable to one who knew what it had once been.

He sighed softly, watching the desert sun as it sank inexorably toward the horizon.

The new Rangers were perfectly capable. They would have to be; the Power had chosen them. The Power alone had chosen this team, for at the time they had become Rangers there had been no one qualified to offer an opinion.

No one who had come forward, at least. Linnse had once urged him to speak up, to reclaim what she had mistakenly called "his place" on the team. But only once. He had told her never to say it again, though he suspected it hadn't been his words that convinced her.

He hadn't meant to hurt her. He just couldn't keep it in sometimes. The shame, the bitter loneliness, the rage... especially the rage. They told him it would fade, someday. They told him he would learn to cope again; they said it as often as they said it wasn't his fault. But the anger remained as sharp as ever, stronger even than the guilt.

*Why!* he cried again, in the silence of his own mind. There was no one to hear him, not anymore. *Why did I have to be the one to live? Why do I have to stay, alone?*

So alone... The words echoed back at him, bouncing off of walls that he would never dare lower again. No one had known, not even him at first, and now the only people he had trusted with the secret were beyond even his ability to reach.

The falling sun touched the upper cornice of a building across the square, and his eyes abruptly focused. Entire communities had turned out to rebuild, but many of the original structures remained, renovated or retouched where necessary. The old library had come through virtually unscathed, and for just a moment he thought he saw a pink bandana flying from the top of the reading tower.

That particular dare had escalated out of all control... much like the night she had challenged his best friend to break into the tower from the ground, in fact. Electronic security was tighter on the ground level, but he had both done it and simultaneously framed her for the break-in.

He clenched his fist suddenly, fighting the tide of loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him. He had vowed to be in complete control this afternoon.

He lowered his gaze to the stone monument in front of him. The five-pointed object appeared rough-hewn, but closer inspection revealed the delicate laser carving behind the illusion of chisel work. The Rangers' sunburst logo radiated outward from the center, its stylized rays of light reaching the end of every point.

He lifted one hand to the middle of the sun, where the words "We remember" had been etched deeply into the stone. The inscription was simple but powerful, and he had seen it repeated all over the town. Sometimes the words were carved in stone, the way they were here. Sometimes they were scrawled on ribbons or armbands. He had even seen them hanging in holographic color beside the entrance to the government building.

His fingers moved, almost of their own volition, to trace the path of the stone sun across the monument. Each ray of light underlined a name--the name of a person honored for the sacrifice that had saved their planet. Five names. Five heroes... five people that would never return.

He had gone to the memorial service. Linnse had been strangely silent when he mentioned that he was planning to attend, as though she couldn't decide whether to encourage or dissuade him. It wouldn't have mattered. He had been determined to be there.

It had been strange to hear Saryn's name read with the others--he had expected it, but it still surprised him. The surprise was of a mild sort, the kind one might feel on learning that the weather on a given day was not what had been predicted. Nonetheless, he clung to it, for it was the only thing he felt during the entire service.

That had been the sole reprieve he'd had from the unceasing anger in days, and he supposed he should have been grateful for it. But he couldn't be grateful, because without the anger there had been nothing. No grief, no sorrow for their passing, not even the lonely ache in his heart or the terror of his dreams, both of which had become near-constant companions.

He had felt none of the things he knew he should feel, and it had occurred to him that he should be troubled. He hadn't been, of course, but it had crossed his mind. It had been as though Saryn really was dead, far beyond the reach of mere words or emotions. He had even wondered if maybe it was true, if the soul that had been Saryn had fled, leaving behind only... this.

He turned away from the monument, angry all over again at being left to deal with this by himself. They had sworn an oath of friendship, all of them--they had vowed to stay together, to never leave a teammate behind, to always defend each other and their home.

It had never occurred to them that they might have to choose. To defend their home or to stay together... to defend each other, or to ensure that their one remaining teammate was not left behind. It was something they had never expected to face, but they had each made their decisions before they even realized that the choice was before them.

They had all chosen. Now the team was gone, he was alone, and "home" was a word that had no meaning. The oath they had each given so solemnly had been shattered beyond recognition.

One of the remembrance ribbons fluttered across the street in front of him, and he stepped down on it deliberately. He glared at it as the free end struggled feebly in the breeze, trying to get loose again and continue on its solitary journey. *What right have you to happiness?* he demanded, irrationally addressing the ribbon.

Someone gave him an odd look as they passed, and he suppressed the urge to turn his glare on them instead. He reached down and snatched the ribbon off the ground, crumpling the rainbow-colored cloth into a ball in his fist. He had no obligation to this place. What was he doing here? Why had he stayed, after the Defense meeting?

He glanced around, trying to orient himself. A sinking sensation took hold of his stomach as he recognized the street down which his wayward feet had carried him. He found himself moving forward again, turning the last corner on a route he had followed many times before.

There, on the outskirts of town, lay the Ranger compound. A muted rainbow of colors hung above it, outlining a sunburst pattern from a holographic generator that was probably situated in the courtyard. The words "We remember" were emblazoned across the middle of the sun.

He didn't mean to, but habit drove him on until he stood silently outside a door that didn't mean what it used to. Yet it looked so much the same... he didn't know why he rang the chime, but the door swung open before he could decide exactly what he was doing.

"Good evening," the girl on the other side of the threshold said warmly. It was the warmth of one acquaintance for another; there was no deeper recognition in her eyes.

That was as it should be, of course. They had been "introduced" through the Frontier Defense, and she had no reason to suspect that she knew more about him than that. When she looked at him, she would see only the black armor and tinted visor of the Shadow Ranger.

Was that all he was now? A shadow, without ties or family or team? He had wanted it this way. But he couldn't help feeling a fresh twinge of pain as he stared into his sister's eyes and saw a stranger reflected there.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her smile not wavering.

She too, like her predecessor, had light hair and a welcoming smile that put one immediately at ease. But otherwise they might have come from entirely different colonies. The new Pink Ranger was fairer-skinned, with less distinctly Eltaran features and eyes that were a startling shade of blue. More than that, though, the devilishly unrepentant air that he had come to associate with the Pink Power was missing.

"No," he muttered. He didn't miss her flash of puzzlement as he looked away. "I'm sorry," he said, a little louder. "I was looking for someone else."

He could feel the Pink Elisian Ranger's curious gaze on him as he turned and walked away.