What Happens Doesn't Always Stay

Màthair Maighdeann

Taylor was standing on the edge of "Pride Rock" as Max had dubbed it, looking down.

"A ghrian a's a ghealach, stiùir sinn
Gu uair ar cliù 's ar glòir
Naoidhean bhig, ar rìbhinn òg
Mhaighdean uasal bhàn," she sang softly, then said: "Tha mama gad ionndrainn, a Michael."

"What does that mean?" the yellow ranger jumped when Cole appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"Cole!" she gasped. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly as he walked up beside her.

"It's an old lullaby my mom used to sing to me. 'Mhaighden Uasal Bhàn'. 'Noble Maiden Fair'."

"I didn't know you could sing."

"I don't do it often."

"I noticed."

She glared at him.

"What language is it?" he asked, ignoring her glare.

"Scots Gaelic."

"What does the part you were just singing mean?"

"Sun and moon, guide us. To the hour of our glory and honor. Little baby, our young Lady. Noble maiden fair," she said.

"Your mom sang it?"

Taylor nodded. "And her mother sang it to her and so on."

"But then you said something. Who's Michael?"

Taylor froze. "No one," she said a little too quickly.

The blazing lion ranger looked at her a little strangely, but didn't press matters farther. For that, she was grateful.

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After the latest Org battle, Taylor was sat on her bed in her room on the Animarium, looking through a photo album. It was times like this that she was glad she didn't have to share a room. There were only three but since Princess Shayla didn't sleep, Cole preferred to sleep outside, and Max and Danny didn't mind sharing a room, she and Alyssa both got their own. It wasn't that she didn't like her teammates - she did. They just had a tendency to get on her nerves and she'd always needed to have alone time, even as a child. Growing up, her alone time came in the form of training as a barrel racer. When she joined the Air Force, it was when she was in her jet. Now, as a ranger, it's when she's looking through her old albums from her teenage years.

She stopped at one photo in particular. It was just after she'd turned seventeen and she and her friends had somehow convinced her father to let her go to Paris for a week with them in the summer. The picture showed three girls, a redhead and two blondes. Taya, herself, and Polly. Polly came from a rich family who was more than happy to pay for the three girls to spend a week in Paris, saying they'd all earned it with how hard they'd worked. If only Taylor had known what would come of that trip.

Taya had decided that it would be good for them to have some fun. France was wine country and Paris the city of love, after all.

Taylor knew it was a bad idea, but had wanted to go somewhere where she wasn't known as a Rodeo Queen or the pastor's daughter. Somewhere that she could be free. Free from responsibility. Free from judgement of every little wrong move. Just. Free.

That 'freedom' had led her to waking up in bed with some man. Naked.

When her senses had come about her, she threw his arm off her waist, got dressed, and ran back to the hotel she'd been staying at with her friends. She couldn't face him because that would mean facing her mistake. Taylor Earhardt didn't make mistakes. Taylor Earhardt couldn't make mistakes. Making a mistake, especially one of that caliber, would be disastrous not only to her, but also to her father. She couldn't do that to him. Her mother had died when Taylor was seven and her brother had died when she was fourteen. Between that and her sister running out on them, she was all Samuel Earhardt had left. She never wanted to disappoint him so she always made sure everything she did was as close to perfection as possible. Until now.