Title: Alternate Seasons
Fandom: Power Rangers: in Space
Characters: Sylvie, Carlos, receptionist, coat checker
Universe: Ranger Academy
Prompt: 061 - Winter
Word Count: 774
Date finished: 05/19/2006
Rating: G
Summary: A meeting with Carlos does not go well at all.
Author's Notes: So, you know, this also falls in with Aftermath (97), etc. It goes somewhat before them, closer to the beginning of the story.
Disclaimer: I don't know who owns the Rangers at this point: I'd guess Disney. At any rate, it isn't me. The Ranger Academy is owned by Sparticus.

Winter in Angel Grove was wonderful. On Triforia, at least in Dreital, it was cold, wet, and yes, even on Triforia, it snowed.

It wasn't white snow, however. It was green. Which made it even worse, because when Sylvie saw green, she thought of grass, leaves, and spring. It was so hard to get used to! And it made it hard to wear a coat, even when the weather called for it.

She left the warmth of the shuttle and trod across the dirty green snow to the front door of the Academy, keeping her coat wrapped around her. The door opened as she approached, and she stepped in. To her right, a man offered to take her coat. She gave it to him, shivering still, then approached the front desk.

"May I help you?" the woman behind asked, looking up from her terminal.

"My name is Sylvie Larson; I have an appointment with Headmaster Valerte," Sylvie said, hoping she sounded much more confident than she felt. "Can you direct me to his office?"

"One moment, please. If you'll sit down there?" she indicated a waiting area, and picked up the local equivalent of a phone.

Sylvie sat down on one of the chairs, leaning back and closing her eyes. After a moment, though, she opened them again, and looked around for something to read, or to keep her attention. By the time she'd found it - tucked under one of the chairs - a cadet stood near her chair. "If you'll follow me, please," he said. Sylvie got up and followed.

The way to the Headmaster's office was twisty. Sylvie was lost far too fast for her liking, and determined that she'd get a map of the Academy at her first chance. Even if she wasn't going to be here long, she really wanted to know how to get out, and how to get anyone else out she might need to.

They finally arrived; the cadet left her standing outside the door. She looked around the edge for some kind of… well, doorbell. After a moment, she reached to knock, and the door slid open.

Headmaster Carlos Valerte looked up and smiled. "Sylvie, come in!" His familiar accent slid across her ears, and she smiled as she stepped in. "Welcome." He gestured her to a chair and she sat down, taking a deep breath.

"It's cold here in winter," she said.

He laughed. "And greener than most of the places back home," he agreed. "How long are you here?"

"I'm not sure. Andros just sent me. Is something going on?"

He hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Door, lock," he said, and there was a click by the door. Then he looked at Sylvie. "I told him not to send you," he said.

She blinked. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not sure I'm the intended victim."

Sylvie's eyes narrowed. "Intended victim?" she asked. "Maybe you'd better start at the beginning." It wasn't really a tone she should use, especially on the headmaster of an academy, but he was her friend first. And she really wanted to know what he meant by 'victim'.

Carlos rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Okay. For the last few months I've been getting threats."

"Threats?" she demanded, her heart banging against her ribs so hard she hoped he couldn't hear it. "What kind of threats?"

"Death threats."

She stared. "Death threats? Carlos, this is not something to just… shrug off!" She nearly got up to pace - something she'd picked up somewhere in her travels - but managed to keep her seat. Instead, she gripped the arms of the chair until her hands hurt.

"It's been going on for months," he said with some irritation.

Sylvie calmed herself down with an effort. "I see. But if these aren't aimed at you, then who do you think they are aimed at?"

He looked at her. "I think someone wants control of your Chameleon."

She immediately pulled her left wrist to her chest, her right hand covering the bracelet that was her morpher, feeling vulnerable. "What?"

"I think you are the intended victim. That's why I didn't want Andros to send you."

"That's why I haven't heard from you, why you stopped extending invitations for holidays?" she demanded.

"Yes," he said. "And I want you going back to Earth tomorrow."

She argued, pleaded, persuaded, but by the time she left his office, she'd agreed to return to Earth.

And it felt, as she took her coat from the man at the door, as if it were winter - a Chicago kind of winter, white snow to the eyeballs and freezing cold - in her heart.

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