A/N: Wow! So here it finally is, the final chapter of this labor of love . . . I had fun writing it for the most part, it was definitely my most difficult story to write, and probably the one I'm most proud of. I hope you all enjoyed it, despite the lack of updates.

P.S. Flashbacks are in italics :)

Cmar---you already know everything I think about you, you're just the BEST. Thanks for always coming back and reviewing no matter how many months it takes me to update!

Steph---thank you so much for sticking by this story, and I'm sorry for not giving you quite the ending you wanted, I hope you can eventually forgive me, hehe.

Myriah---well, you're my sister . . . you'd better review my stories!!! LOL, thanks for your reviews, you know how much I love the play-by-play analysis, hehe. They're really fun to read.

Giannola---you are such a faithful reviewer! Seriously, so many times whenever I post an update you are the first person who reviews, I always look forward to it. You rock!

Romilly McAran---it's always fun to get reviews from a new face, thank you so much for taking the time to check this out, and especially leaving such awesome feedback! Your opinion was noted, believe me :)

Thank you all again!!!!

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I remember . . . holding on to you
All them long and lonely nights I put you through . . .

"Jen?"

She turned slowly, recognizing the voice as soon as she heard it, a smile was already on her lips by the time she faced the blond-haired man with twinkling blue eyes who was holding his hand out to her expectantly. "Wes," she murmured.

"Long time no see, huh?" Wes said with a smile.

"Too long."

The soothing sounds from the radio played on as Jen rested her hand in Wes' palm, the touch sending sparks of electricity through her body and causing her shiver. She studied his handsome face with wondering eyes, the way his full lips curved into that inviting smile, how his bangs hung carelessly over his forehead and were now swaying with the gentle breeze that swept through the open porch. Pressed up to his chest at that moment, he suddenly seemed so much larger than he'd ever looked before . . . his shoulders were broad and as he wrapped his arms around her, she felt the strength within them.

"I've missed you," she whispered, leaning her head on his heart and listening to the rhythmic beating of it.

And that's when it hit her.

"Wait." She pulled back quickly, her eyes suddenly filled with confusion. "H-How did you . . . you're not supposed to be here."

"Ouch," Wes chuckled.

"So . . . " Jen trailed off, shaking her head. "How . . . why . . . ?"

"Don't worry about it, Jen." Wes shrugged. "It's not important."

"How can you say that?" Jen nearly cried, "you've been dead for a whole year, and now y-you're just gonna show up . . . and expect me to---"

"Shh, Jen---" Wes pressed a finger to her lips and held it there till she finally quieted, letting her shoulders sag and relaxing.

"Wes," she sighed, "is this . . . real?"

Smiling gently, Wes pulled her to him again, resting one hand on her tiny waist and using his other hand to take her arms and put them around his neck; the danced slowly to the music, gazing into his each others eyes for a few moments before Wes finally answered:

"Of course it is, Jen."

Jen twirled strands of his hair around her fingertips, taking in the scent of him and the feel of his warm breath on her face. "It feels real," she admitted.

Wes laughed, that same old wonderful, light-hearted laugh she loved. "You're such a cynic, Jen."

"Can you blame me? I've seen some pretty crazy things."

He tilted his head a bit. "I guess I can't fault you." He raised his hand and touched her cheek, brushing it softly with his thumb, his eyes had lost their sparkle, and the smile had vanished from his face . . . now all Jen could see was sadness as he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

Some where in there I'm sure I made you cry
But I can't remember . . . if we said good bye

"I'm sorry, Jen."

She blinked. "Wh-what?"

"I should've told you the truth a long time ago," Wes continued, his voice no longer carefree, but heavy with sorrow. "I let you leave . . . and I never told you."

"Wes, I . . . "

"I love you, Jen." He kissed her again, this time his lips caressing her neck, then trailing up her jawline, Jen gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as she shuddered again. "I wanted to tell you," Wes went on, "but it didn't seem fair . . . you were with Alex, you loved him. And I knew you couldn't stay with me so . . . I just never spoke up."

"I wish you had," Jen said, "I love you, too . . . Wes."

This time she started the kiss, raising up a bit onto her tiptoes and placing her lips over his, pressing herself against him as tight as she could get, almost as if she thought if they tried hard enough . . . they could become one. Never in her life had she experienced such a kiss before, one so full of longing and love that it brought tears to her eyes and made her physically ache; she felt his fingers run through her long hair and tingle her senses even as her own hands ran up and down his back, lingering just above his butt so she could pull his pelvis in tighter. Their lips never left each others as they sank to the ground together, Wes' hands now leaving her hair to trace down the front of her blouse . . . Jen's faced was flushed red and she found herself gasping for air, but not caring in the slightest.

"God, I love you so much!" her voice broke and he kissed her again to stop her from speaking anymore.

"It's all right now," Wes murmured, "it's all right . . . "

I only miss you every now and then
Like the soft breeze blowing on from the Caribbean

"I don't think it is," Jen replied, bringing her hands up to cup his face and hold him still so she could look at him again. "This is just a dream, isn't? You're not real . . . this isn't real." Wes exhaled slowly, looking at her without speaking; Jen nodded her understanding, as heartbreaking as it was to admit.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you," she said, quietly.

"Don't be." Wes smiled again, but the sadness behind it was clear. "All I wanted was to keep you safe . . . that was good enough for me." He rested his forehead against her's and breathed in unison with her for a moment, trying to calm her and tears started running down her cheeks and her breaths started hitching in her throat. "I wouldn't change a thing, Jen."

"I don't want to lose you again," Jen cried, burying her face in his shoulder as the tears came freely.

"I know . . . I'm sorry it has to be this way."

"Why'd you have to do it, Wes? We could've stayed and fought with you . . . maybe we could've changed what happened, you never know! Alex might've been wrong."

"I couldn't take that chance."

"But we were a team!" Jen sobbed, "we were supposed to stick together . . . you shouldn't have had to die alone."

"Believe me," Wes said, firmly, pushing Jen back slightly. "I died in much more peace this way . . . than I would have dying knowing that you were next. Or already dead." He wiped away her tears gently with his thumb. "I can't tell you how much comfort it gave me to know . . . that you were safe. That you all were safe."

"And then we forgot you . . . "

"You can figure out how to blame yourself for everything, can't you?"

Jen smiled, but it wobbled dangerously. "I promised myself," she said, "that no matter what they did to me . . . I'd never forget you."

"And you didn't," Wes said, "at least, not forever. You remembered, didn't you? Hell, you even remembered me before that . . . you just didn't know it."

Jen hesitated, but finally found her voice: "Wes, how did you . . . can you see me?"

"Of course I can," Wes answered, "I'm always with you, Jen . . . yeah, yeah, it's cliche and it's corny . . . but it's true." He kissed her again, but didn't pull away this time, keeping his lips close to her ear as he whispered in a fading voice: "I would never leave you, Jen . . . "

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"I would never you, Jen . . . "

She opened her eyes.

At the sound of her small moan, Adam looked up from where he sat with his head in his hands, their eyes locked as he asked: "How're you feeling?" She certainy looked like shit, deep purple bruises marring her face, her bottom lip swollen to twice it's size and colored a bright shade of red around a nasty cut.

"Tired," Jen admitted, " . . . sore."

"I'll bet."

Jen paused, blinking slowly. "We're going home today . . . aren't we?" Vaguely, she remembered Logan telling them they would return to the future as soon as possible.

"Logan's prepping the timeship right now," Adam said, "we all figured you could use some sleep, so we just left you alone."

"How's everyone else?" Jen asked, worriedly, "Eric was in pretty bad shape yesterday---"

"He's resting, too. But he'll be fine."

"Oh, good," she breathed.

Gritting her teeth, Jen pushed herself up to a sitting position and swung her legs over the mattress, Adam stood quickly and hurried to her side, gripping her arms to help her up, knowing insisting that she rest more would be useless. "Take it easy," he soothed, "you took one hell of a beating."

"Don't I know it," Jen laughed, unsteadily. She sighed, rubbing a bruise on her cheek gingerly. "Thank God we all made it out alive."

Adam nodded. "Jen . . . "

She looked up curiously at the tone of his voice.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly, "about Wes."

"All I wanted was to keep you safe . . . that was good enough for me."

Jen shivered as the voice replayed in her mind, she wrinkled in brow in confusion, not knowing where it had come from.

"I died in much more peace this way . . . than I would have dying knowing that you were next."

"Jen, are you okay?"

She started to smile slowly, just as tears formed in her eyes and her throat tightened, Adam saw her distress and immediately grew concerned, bringing up his hands to gently place them on her arms.

"Jen?"

"I'm all right, Adam," Jen whispered, "just . . . ready to go home."

Adam seemed to understand, he gave her a small smile and carefully wrapped his strong arms around her, she leaned into his embrace, closing her eyes to further take in his scent, and the feeling of his cotton shirt against her face. They would be all right, she realized. She would never forget Wes, but that didn't mean she couldn't go on living . . .

It's what he would want.

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Wes took a deep breath as he walked toward the lines of cyclobots that were now crowding around him, there were thousands of them, far too many for him to take on his own . . . and survive. All hope of living through the fight was swept away in that instant, and he steeled himself for what was to come. Briefly, he wondered what death would be like . . . how it would feel, if it would hurt. But he pushed those thoughts from his mind, knowing that no matter what it was like . . . it would be worth it.

Jen stood up after placing the flowers in front of Wes' headstone, hugging herself tightly and blinking back the tears as the other Rangers walked up to stand beside her; she hadn't mentioned the dream to any of them, maybe someday she would share it . . . but maybe not. A cool breeze swept over all of them, and she shivered, taking deep breaths, trying to remain calm; with a trembling hand, she reached out and touched the stone, tracing the words carved there.

She felt someone's hands on her shoulders and instinctively knew that they were Adam's, ready to be her rock, to support her no matter what; the others paid their own respects, still not remembering their old friend who had sacrificed his life for them, but honoring him nonetheless. Logan had assured them that there was a reverse procedure, and they would remember Wes again upon returning to the future and undergoing the treatment.

"It's time to go," Alex announced, his voice gentle, but still firm.

One by one, they turned away from the grave and faced Alan Collins and Eric, who were leaning against a car and staring at them all with cold eyes and intimidating glares.

Wes felt a sharp pain as a rib snapped within him and he was flung hard against a brick wall, something deep in his back popped and he cried out in pain, slumping to the ground; the cyclobts weren't letting up, and there were so many of them . . . he knew he couldn't go on much longer. The pain was becoming more and more intense, and he was so tired, the adrenaline that been coursing through his veins earlier swiftly leaving him. His breath was coming out in weak gasps and his vision was so blurred from sweat and tears---not to mention that many knocks on his head he had endured---he could hardly see. As the cyclobots closed in, he knew it was over . . .

"So," Eric said, harshly, rubbing his ribs tenderly. "This is it . . . it's over."

"I guess so," Jen replied, "finally."

Eric swallowed hard, hoping that no one else would notice his attempt on holding on when he was really losing his grip, about to fall over the edge . . . he shook his head, perhaps a little too fiercely, as black spots suddenly danced in front of his eyes and couldn't stifle a small gasp. He felt Collins' hand on his arm but shook it off gruffly, insisting sharply that he was fine.

"Eric," Jen spoke again, "I'm . . . sorry." Their eyes met, searched one another's, and found the same type of pain within. "I know."

"I know you do," Eric muttered, "you loved him . . . too." He whispered the last word, too quietly for anyone but Jen to hear. "I, uh, don't blame you . . . anymore. Just so you know."

Jen breathed a sigh of obvious relief. "I'm glad," she said, "though I can't really say I don't still blame myself---"

"Don't," Eric said, quickly, "Wes wouldn't want that. You and I both know that all he wanted was for you all to be safe, it was enough for him." Hesitantly, he extended his hand. "You fought hard, Jen, and you brought in Ransik. Thank you."

Jen pressed her lips together in a tight smile as he placed her hand in Eric's, squeezing it firmly in a healing handshake. "Take care of yourself, Eric."

"Goodbye, Jen."

As the cyclobots stepped aside, Wes blinked in confusion for a few moments, wondering why they seemed to be relenting in their vicious attacks; his questions were answered a second later when a large figure stepped up, dressed in black.

"Ransik," Wes spat, between clenched teeth.

"Red Ranger," Ransik's voice dripped with hatred.

Pushing the pain and fatigue from his mind, Wes braced himself against the wall and forced himself to his feet, his tightened his fists and raised his arms, shouting: "Time for Time Force!" and morphing in a flash of bright red light. He felt the power of the suit overcome him and dull the pain, giving him renewed strength, and fight.

"Let's get this over with."

Letting out one last battle cry, he charged at Ransik with his Chrono Saber drawn, managing to get a slash across the mutant's stomach before he was flung aside and landed on a heap of building debris. Ransik tried to take advantage of his downtime by sending a blast from the palm of his hand, but Wes rolled out of the way and got to his feet again, now pulling out his own blaster and shooting. The shot caught Ransik in his side and spun him around, with his back facing Wes, the Red Ranger rushed forward and brought his saber down across it, sending sparks into the air and the mutant leader crumbling to the ground.

Wes stood over him, launching another attack as Ransik's elbow shot out and hit him low in the stomach, doubling him over as all air left his lungs; he gasped and wheezed painfully, his head suddenly spinning as the agony of his broken ribs overwhelmed him. He blindly tried to block Ransik's blows, but found himself failing miserably and grunted in pain as Ransik's fists hit their targets. Somehow, he managed to aim his blaster into the pit of Ransik's stomach and fire at point blank range, throwing Ransik back at least thirty feet and giving him time to . . . just breathe.

Knowing he had to do whatever it took, he called on his battilizer and morphed into his knight form; he got on his feet and stumbled forward a few steps as he tried to regain his balance, miraculously staying upright.

"I've had enough!" he meant for it to be a strong shout, but it came out as a harsh gasp, and blood came out of his mouth with the words to trickle down his chin.

"As have I," Ransik seethed.

They met each other in a clash of swords, the sound of metal meeting metal clang and echoed in the air, slowly dissolved until the only sound was their heaving breaths and painful gasps; without warning, Ransik grabbed Wes by the shoulders and flung him to the ground, coming down to land on top of him. Wes had barely anytime to register what the mutant was doing before a deafening explosion rocked both of them and sent him into blissful unconsciousness . . .

But not for long enough.

Demorphing painfully, he squeezed his eyes shut in pain before slowly opening them to face whatever was in front of them---and he saw nothing. Just blackness. For a brief, terrifying moment, he feared the explosion had taken his eyesight, but then it began to clear, though it was still blurry; as he started to make out images, he focused all his energy on breathing, amazed how he could've taken something like that for granted. It was always instinctive before. It had never taken an effort

"You've fought well, Red Ranger."

Ransik's voice sent chills down his spine and rolled onto his back to look up at his enemy, wincing not only from the pain, but from the sight of the mutant, his mask gone and some of his skin melted away from the burns caused by the explosion. The stench was unbelievable. Absently, he wondered what he looked like.

"You'll never . . . get away with this." God, was that his voice? He really sounded that bad?

"I already have." Ransik stood over him, confident and undefeated. "How does it feel? To know that you failed, you're going to die and I'm going to kill everyone you love? How does it feel to have been abandoned by your team?"

Wes smiled stiffly, he knew the truth, even if Ransik didn't . . . they were safe, and that was all that mattered; with a twinge of sadness, he thought of what their reactions to him locking them in the timeship were, especially Jen's heartbroken sobs and tears that ran down her face. He wondered how they would react when they found out what had happened to him. I'm sorry, guys. I know I've hurt you . . . but I couldn't bear to watch you all die. This was something I had to do. He knew he would do it all over again, too.

Ransik kicked him savagely in the stomach then stalked away, leaving him to die without the mercy of a quick kill; Wes moaned and rolled onto his side, suddenly feeling sick, he threw up what little food he'd managed to eat, then retched not only from the nausea, but from the excruciating pain. His ribs cried out in protest, his head pounded, his left arm was at an impossible angle, and he could swear that he could actually hear his heart beating.

He didn't know how long he remained there, only that the sun had begun to fall when he began to cough feebly and more blood ran down his chin, he was freezing cold, and shaking so bad it hurt; for the first time since receiving the news from Alex that he was destined to die, he actually feared death. Laying on the cold pavement, bleeding and dying . . . all alone. It was like a nightmare. He didn't want it to end like that! Tears sprang to his eyes as he despaired over his fate, wishing someone was there to comfort him in his final moments . . . wishing his father was there. He cried quietly, recalling all the fights he'd had with his father, all the moments they had together and wasted.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered, hoping that somehow he was heard.

Then, just as quickly as the fear and sadness had overcome him, it was replaced by another feeling . . . one that came as he thought of his beautiful mother: The tall blonde-haired woman with bright green eyes and soft hands, how it felt when she pulled him into her embrace, or rocked him to sleep while reading a story. How he had sobbed every night following her sudden death in the car accident, and how he'd missed her every single day, for the next fifteen years.

She was waiting for him, he realized, a peace coming over him at the thought. His beloved mother, someone he had longed for for so many years, was waiting for him on the other side . . . he knew that, even though he didn't know how he knew it. So he would go to her, and someday, when his time came . . . her husband and his father would join them, and they would be together again. A family again.

Sighing weakly, no longer afraid of what was to come, Wes allowed himself to give up the fight and his breath that had been rattling in his chest slowed down . . . his chest rose up one last time with a small gasp, and his blue eyes glazed over as the breath escaped him, never to return.

Laying in the middle of the city he'd fought so hard to save, Wesley Collins took his final breath and died alone . . .

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A thousand years later, in that same spot, a statue of the man who had gave up everything for the city stood tall and striking; it's face was handsome and jaw chiseled, nose prominent and strong, an exact replica of it's inspiration. It had been erected nearly two decades before, upon the Rangers' return to the future and the spilling of the true story, Jen had insisted on it, and she oversaw it's construction.

And so it stood, and watched as Wes' friends moved on with their lives . . . as Jen married Adam in a quiet ceremony out in the country, and raised a daughter . . . as Katie found a man to settle down with and a peaceful job to keep her happy . . . as Trip rose up in the ranks of Time Force and made sure no one had to endure their horrible experience . . . as Lucas went back to race car driving, and fell in love with Nadira . . . as Alex finally met another woman he loved just as much as Jen, and moved on, finally leaving the past beind him.

The statue stood through the rain, the snow, the storms and the peaceful summer evenings, people from thousands of miles away came to see it, to pay respects to a man they had never met, but would never forget. One by one they stared up at it, reflecting on all he had given up for them, until one day a young woman with brown hair and freckles knelt at the feet and traced the words engraved in the stone.

"Thank you, Wes," Anna Phillips whispered.

Behind her, Adam and Jen watched their daughter with tears in their eyes, quietly thanking Wes for giving them the chance to have and raise their daughter, something that could never have happened if he hadn't made that choice. Jen walked forward and knelt by her daughter, whispering the words in her mind, words that her husband and daughter could never hear. I love you. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she brought her hand to words and rested it there, bowing her head.

REST IN PEACE

WESLEY COLLINS

1981-2001

Because of You . . . We Live

THE END