Kimberly

"C'mon, Hart!" Coach Schmidt hollered. "Back straight, chest out. Your posture's slipping!"

I grimaced and did as I was told, straightening further on the balance beam. My ankle protested, but I ignored it.

I completed my routine, landing on my feet with arms in the air and my chin held high. And that's when I really felt it - the tell-tale pull in the back of my foot, a sure sign that I had strained something.

Coach was spouting off a litany of instructions, critiquing my technique and correcting my hand and foot placements. He eyed me beadily as I tried my best not to hobble over to where he stood. "Something wrong, Kim?"

I shook my head and gave him my best "I'm Just Peachy" smile. "Go on," I told him, intent on hearing his evaluation of my performance.

"-and you'll have a really good shot at the Olympics," he finished.

The Olympics. My heart leapt at the sound. "You really think so?" I asked him eagerly.

He nodded an affirmative. "Keep this up, win the Pan Globals, and then it's a straight shot to the qualifying rounds at the 'O's."

It was my dream. Had been ever since I discovered gymnastics. "Yes, Coach."

He gave me a rare smile. "But first, you need to win the Globals." With a pat on my back he turned to another of my team mates, effectively dismissing me for the day.

I walked slowly back to the nearby dormitories housed in the same swish compound that was the athletic facility in Florida.

I opened the door to my room and put down my gear, heading to the bathroom to set up a hot bath. As I waited for the water to fill, I sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, carefully inspecting the back of my foot. It didn't look bad, in fact there was barely any swelling and redness. I prodded at it gently, then with more force, wincing at the latter. Crap.

Lowering myself into the steaming water, I tried to force troubling thoughts from my mind. The phone rang as I had nearly drifted off to sleep in the bath, and I felt around for the extension in the bathroom.

"Hey, Beautiful."

"Tommy!" I sat up, instantly awake.

He laughed, and I missed the sound. It had been too long, too long since I had last heard from him. "It's been so long since I heard your voice," I told him wistfully.

"Yeah, I know. Things've just been crazy around here, ya know. But, I got all your letters! I haven't really got the time to write back, sorry about that. Just... Y'know, crazy. Phew."

"I heard about your major crisis."

"Yeah! Billy told you huh?"

It was Aisha, actually, but I didn't tell him. "Billy mentioned something. I'm so glad you're okay, and you managed to get those crystals."

I had tried reaching Billy after Aisha informed me from Africa of the situation. But Billy had his hands full, and I feared that any extra second he spent on me would affect the Rangers' chances of success. Only Jason, Trini and Zack knew just how worried I had been about Tommy.

"Me too. They're a lot more powerful than our old powers." He went off in his own thoughts for a minute, drum drum drumming his fingers on something and I waited patiently for him to return. "Anyways, how've you been?" he asked, pulling himself back to me.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Tired. Training everyday... and all that." I debated going into detail, but decided against adding more to his plate. I reached for a towel and raised my ankle, rotating it slowly and quietly asked him about home.

He laughed, recalling a few funny stories about Rocky and Adam. Hinted at more between Adam and Tanya, which I perked up nosily at. I wanted to know all about Tanya, but Tommy, never the best with words or descriptions, came up with the über informative, "Uh, she's okay I guess."

I rolled my eyes, demanding to know more. He laughed again, swearing that was all there was to it, and "Oh yeah, she likes to wear yellow."

I gave up.

The conversation approached a lull, and I asked him more about the Rangers. He jumped straight in with details, giving blow-by-blow accounts of their last three battles, but even though I tried, my retired brain, already fried from over-training, too little sleep, and that ever present niggling doubt about the health of my ankle, found it difficult to get into.

He mentioned Jason, Trini and Zack, and I smiled, more than happy to talk about our old friends. He was glad to hear that they were doing great, and I was proud of their accomplishments, especially Jason's for he had been chosen as lead delegate at an upcoming summit. Which was hardly a surprise, but "You should really call him sometime. Or write him-, them, at least," I told my boyfriend.

I asked about Katherine, concerned and curious to know how she was handling the responsibilities I passed on to her.

She was settling in great, according to Tommy. The team loved her, and she got along well with everyone, especially Tanya.

I nodded absently, massaging the back of my foot. My fingers squeezed a particular spot and I exhaled sharply as a stinging pain shot up the entire back of my calf.

"-a little like Zack you know, with the dance moves, but less hip hop and more ballet instead."

I looked up from my ministrations. "Who? Katherine?" I asked.

"Yeah, Kat," he answered with a laugh. "I was just describing her fighting style." He paused, as if musing over something. "She's improving by the way, learns quick too," he said, sounding pleased, "I've been giving her pointers as to how to turn those -what does she call 'em- 'pliés' or 'jetés' or something, into a proper roundhouse kick."

I nodded again, then realized that he couldn't exactly see me. I started to say something, to ask about him, how he was doing, with school and classes and everything, but a series of familiar beeps sounded over the line. "Looks like you've got to go," I said lightly.

"Uh-huh," he replied, already distracted. I could hear him swivelling restlessly around and looking for the others. "Look, Kim, I uh-"

"It's okay, I know. Just... Tommy?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care, okay?"

"Sure thing. We'll talk again, Kim." He hung up, and I replaced the phone on the hook.

Pulling the plug to drain the bath water, I stepped out of the tub and winced at the pressure that put on my foot.

Crap crap crap.

"May I be connected to room 1403, please?" I spoke into the line later that same day.

"Yes certainly, Madam," came the reply in a thick German accent.

A few seconds passed, and then a click. "Hello?" a deep, smooth voice answered.

"Jase?"

"Hey, you caught me just in time. I was about to leave to join the group downstairs."

"Oh, sorry, I'll call back tonight? It'll be, uh, late afternoon for you," I said, mentally calculating the time difference.

"No, don't worry about it. What's up?"

I hesitated. "It's, uh, probably nothing, but... My ankle."

I could hear the bed springs creak as he sat down. "The same spot?" he asked.

"Yeah," I whispered.

"Did you ice it and lay off it like I told you to?"

I kept silent, biting the inside of my cheek. From what I figured, if I stayed quiet I wouldn't have to lie now, would I?

"Kimberly."

It was all he said, but then again, he never needed many words to get results.

"Fineeeeee," I capitulated, throwing myself back on my bed. "I iced it, and I had planned on resting it, but it got better when I woke up this morning so I went for practice anyway." I cringed, somehow admitting to the stupidity of my actions seemed a whole lot worse. I tripped over my next few words in my rush to get them out. "But Coach said I had a good shot at the 'O's, Jase. The 'O's."

I didn't know why it was so important to me that he understood why I did what I did, but it just was.

"Okay. Describe it to me again. How does it hurt this time?" he asked calmly, no censure in his voice at all.

I felt a deep rush of appreciation for him. "When I'm on my toes."

"Can you walk on your heels?"

I got up and attempted a few steps. "Yeah, it doesn't hurt that way."

"But it hurts when you take straight steps?"

"Yes, but not so bad that I can't walk at all."

There was a short silence and I fancied I could hear him thinking. "Kim, it's your Achilles' tendon. It's probably an inflammation of sorts, which isn't bad now, if you keep off it."

"But?"

He sighed. "But if you continue to press it, which I'm certain you will, it will rupture, and that will ruin your chances at the Olympics for sure." He paused again, as if weighing his next words. "I know you don't want to hear it, but you should go see a physiotherapist, or at least a doctor."

"No," I stated firmly. There was no way I wanted Coach Schmidt to think I was bringing anything less than my A-game. And besides, I didn't want to risk failing a drug test because of this.

He made no comment, but I knew he was against it. "Okay, Kim," he finally said. "But promise me you'll take it easy, please."

"I know."

"Ice it," he instructed, "and wrap it up when you're on your feet. It should provide some form of support and relief from the pain."

I nodded, my trust in him absolute. "Okay, Jase."

He blew out a heavy breath. "I really wish you would go see a physio."

"I know you do. And I know you wish you could teleport here too," I teased lightly.

He snorted down the line. "Don't I," he muttered.

"I'll be fine. In fact, I'm feeling a lot better than I was earlier." I twirled the telephone cord between my fingers. "Thanks, Jason," I said quietly, sincerely.

"Anytime." I heard several loud knocks on his room door and someone hollered his name.

"Looks like you're wanted. Sorry to keep you."

"Don't be silly. I'm always here for you."

I laughed, appreciating the statement. "Good luck. And let me know how it goes," I told him.

We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone quickly, not wanting him to be late.

He had been working very hard to prepare for this summit, and was handpicked out of the hundreds at the conference in Switzerland to lead a select group of ten at the inaugural Peace Summit in Germany, where he currently was. He was also going to be the opening as well as key speaker there, and I had been helping with both of his speeches. Helping to the best I could, which mostly consisted of listening in on speaker while he was practicing, usually together with Trini and Zack, which was always a great lot of fun even with the miles between us.

Florida was lonely, and homesickness was a terrible thing. Sometimes I found it difficult to sleep at night, because I missed home so much and I was miserable, and my hand would hover over the phone, and before I knew it I would dial his number; because he was strong and because he was always there and because he had always been my constant.

I crossed my fingers and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing him all the very best.

It was a practice I had fallen into during our days as Rangers, starting with that one time that he had vanished off grid and no one could find him. I had worried myself sick, and when someone, probably Billy or Alpha, had suggested we cross our fingers and hope he'll show up, I had taken those words literally and done so. It worked, and Jason miraculously appeared less than five seconds later.

It was a silly, maybe even superstitious, little ritual of mine, and no one knew about it. But it stuck, this little Jason Charm, and I've taken it on as a good luck charm ever since.

The strange thing was, I've never used it for anyone or anything else, it was just for Jason.