A\N: Angst. It's what I do. :)

She'd chained herself in her room for a week.

Goldar and Scorpina had wondered, knocking on the thick door occasionally. Squatt and Baboo were too stupid to notice. Finster knew exactly why she did it.

Sane again, Rita stared at the chains holding her, then spoke the word to unlock them. They sprang free, tearing open scabbed wounds. She nearly screamed again in pain.

She was far too hoarse to scream, though.

Rita glanced at the stale water on the table. She hadn't assumed she would be gone so long...she ignored her thoughts and tossed the water back, gasping as her stomach pleaded for more. Her blood dripped down her hands and legs, staining her white gown and long silver hair.

She sat on the bed and began to dress her wounds.

Zordon, despite all her attempts to make him look so, was no fool. He had chosen children to be Power Rangers. Children. Goldar had seen nothing odd with that, but, well...

A warrior Rita might be. A queen, certainly. And these infants should long ago have been either captive or dead.

But Rita was a woman.

Women mothered.

That was not, as Earthlings would put it, sexist. One of the first things Rita had learned was that in any species, the males created and protected life, while the females sheltered and mothered it. She was no different. When Rita had seen the Power register on her telescope, her first thought had been to crush the warriors.

Then she had seen them.

Her next attempt had been to capture them. But while they fought, she saw something interesting in them. They were no warriors, true, but something in her mind had clicked into place. Yes, she had a son, Thrax, but she had not raised him--his father did that, in the tradition of their people.

And the Rangers were children.

Happy, bubbly Kimberly had caught her eye first. She was filled with Magyk, the life-force that Rita drew on. Purity and childlike innocence radiated from her. The others had fallen quickly into place in her mind. Strong, courageous Jason, a warrior that her own people would have been proud of; calm, capable Trini, who could rival Zordon in subtlety; laughing, teasing Zack, who easily held the team together; and sweet, shy Billy, young but promising.

Rita wasn't an idiot. That was widely known. Ordinarily, she was considered the best Queen her people had ever thought to have.

But she wished, on some level, that these children were hers.

So she trained them.

Her 'monsters' were pathetic. The challenges were nothing. Yet the Rangers cut their teeth against them, learning, growing, changing. Goldar had, several times, muttered that if he'd wanted to train infants, he would have taught on his homeworld.

Rita smiled as she began healing a new wound. He was not a mother.

He didn't know a mother's love. It wasn't the trite phrase humans used--when that part of her mind had clicked, she had been incapable of truly defeating the Rangers. In fact, there were times when she considered stealing them off the battlefield and whisking them to safety.

But she knew they would run from her. They would hurt her, never realizing that she had not, and never would, hurt them.

But the sixth power coin remained.

Tommy had been a godsend. A dangerous enemy, yes...but Zordon would have recruited him, given half a chance. And Rita had a chance to create a Ranger of her own.

A son of her own.

She'd dived into his mind. He'd needed her, on some level, needed a parent to look up to. So she gave him that. A family, safety, comfort...

Even Goldar had forgotten that he wasn't free. He'd been part of their team.

A son to her.

Rita's own remembered screams filled her ears.

"Tommy, Tommy, TOMMY!"

She slammed her eyes shut, fighting back the pain.

Zordon had taken Tommy.

Rita opened her eyes.

Enough, she told herself. You've been through this. And you decided to let him go.

Because he's happier there.

Rita shut her eyes again, the soft, painful sound that was her people's tears passing her lips. Tommy was happier with Zordon. It didn't hurt, no; Tommy was young, and needed company his own age. He also needed Earth. He needed freedom, Kimberly, the first dates and kisses that his own people shared.

Rita was a mother.

She finished the final bandage and stood. She was a mother, and looked with a mother's eyes. She had let Tommy go, in the end, otherwise the Sword of Darkness wouldn't have shattered. Tommy would have instead.

She had let him go because he was happier on Earth. Because, above all, she wanted him to live.

Rita unlocked the door and walked out.

Finster's laboratory smelled good, for the first time Rita could remember. She saw a plate of food waiting for her, along with water.

Finster looked at her in sympathy.

"Eat." He said gently. "Then we'll talk."

Rita would have chided him for his lack of respect, but her body was too weak. She ate slowly, careful not to make herself sick. Finally--far too long for her tastes--she was able to speak again.

"Finster. Did I do the right thing?"

Finster frowned.

"I left Tommy." Rita shut her eyes. "I abandoned him, Finster! I left him to Zordon! Zordon! He uses children as shields!"

Finster nodded slowly.

Rita opened her eyes again, looking at the white-skinned monster. "Finster...please."

The scientist considered for a moment before speaking. "You did the right thing."

Rita shook her head, the soft keen beginning to form on her lips again.

Finster laid his hand on her arm.

"Empress." He said gently. "You did what you had to do. Look in your telescope. Tommy is happy now. He has friends, family, a future..."

"I would have made him my son."

Finster stayed silent.

Finally Rita stood. Carefully, she walked to her telescope and peered through.

Her first glimpse of Tommy almost took her breath away.

Her son. Her son.

He was sitting on his bed, talking on the phone animatedly. Happily. Rita felt a small smile touch her lips. He was happy.

Then he hung up.

Rita frowned as a change came over him. He became silent, withdrawn, moody. He flopped back on his bed, laying utterly still. That was unusual--Rita hadn't even tried to teach him to sit still, he was just too young.

Her son was in pain.

"Empress?" Finster asked. "He is well, isn't he? When I looked--"

"You caught him at the right time." Rita said.

Her eyes were trained on Tommy.

The young man shut his eyes, trying to sleep. It came slowly, fitfully, and Rita watched helplessly as he tossed and turned. How long had it been since he'd slept? How long since he'd had nightmares?

Why nightmares?

She hadn't hurt him. She'd never, ever have done that. But perhaps hurting his teammates had taken a toll on him. Perhaps the human concept of altruisim was not a publicity stunt by politicians, as she'd assumed, and was instead in her surrogate child.

"Rita."

The sorceress froze.

Tommy's lips moved again, but no sound came out. Rita must have heard his thoughts.

"My Empress?" Finster asked.

The sound snapped her out of indecision. She stood quickly, moving away from the telescope. Rules be damned--her son needed her.

"Empress?"

"Tell Goldar and Scorpina I've gone for the moment." Rita instructed. "Don't tell them where."

"But, Empress--"

Rita didn't bother to listen.

She was getting her son back.