There were advantages to being small. His acrobatic entrance seemed to have gone completely unnoticed by the sole human occupant of Ninja Ops. He hesitated next to the computer, taking a moment to study the newest Ranger with a critical eye.

Tired but focused, distracting himself with technology while his emotional stability wavered, precarious and deliberately ignored. Whether it was something he had seen today, some facet of his past or his performance in battle, or something deeper that he kept hidden, he was doing his best to bury it in work. Even now that he had gotten what he wanted, become one of "them," his relentless drive to be more was not appeased.

There were disadvantages to being small, too. He couldn't walk over and touch his son's shoulder, physically take that morpher away from him and insist that he get some sleep. He couldn't take off Cam's glasses, wrap a blanket around his shoulders, and steer him toward bed with the reassurance that whatever was bothering him would look better in the morning. A tired body only made obstacles more daunting.

He could say the words, of course. But he knew better than most that some intangible facet of parental authority was lost when the parent in question was turned into a guinea pig.

He sighed silently to himself, about to say something, to try anyway, when the sound of footsteps made Cam lift his head at last. Not the only human presence in Ninja Ops, after all. Strange... he had been sure all of the Rangers had left for the night, seeking rest at the end of an unnaturally extended day. As Cam should be.

Hunter Bradley trudged into the control room. He had been conspicuous lately, spending as much time as the Wind students on the grounds of an academy not his own. Perhaps he drew some comfort from the surroundings, familiar in a way that Blue Bay Harbor was not yet. Or perhaps he was only lonely... unlike his younger brother, he did not seem to make friends easily.

Cam didn't say a word, even when Hunter dropped to the floor and rested his elbows on the table across from him. They weren't on the best of terms, he knew. He was afraid that the circumstances of their initial meeting had colored every encounter between them since. While he couldn't blame his son for holding a grudge, he had hoped that the two oldest and most aloof of the Rangers would eventually find some common ground.

"Whatcha doing?" the Crimson Ranger asked at last, breaking the silence with what sounded like genuine curiosity. Chin in his hands, his tone belied his posture and weary expression.

Cam was still doing something with his morpher, either ignoring or unconcerned by the unsolicited company. "Trying to figure out how it works," he muttered, not looking up. The words were honest, if quiet, and a father heard echoes of the little boy who had taken apart everything in sight for just that reason.

He watched Hunter regard his son through half-closed eyes, as though the Crimson Ranger was conserving energy by only using half his vision. "What'd you see today?" Hunter asked, point blank.

The samurai morpher clattered to the table and Cam leaned back with an angry exclamation. He spread his hands as though trying to forcibly calm himself, then lifted them to his head and buried his fingers in his hair in a gesture of utter frustration. Only when he spoke did it become clear that his distress was directed at someone--or something--other than Hunter.

"My mother," he said softly, staring down at his morpher as though he would will it to give up its secrets. The words shook their unseen audience of one, heartwrenching if not entirely unexpected, for certainly he hadn't thought Cam would so quickly reconcile his knowledge of the past with the actual experience of it.

"I saw my mother," Cam was saying. "She gave me--this--" His nod at the morpher left no doubt about what he meant. "And she told me... She told me--"

When he couldn't finish, Hunter prompted, "What'd she tell you?" His tone wasn't overly solicitous, but then, Cam never had appreciated coddling.

"She told me my mother would be proud of me," Cam finished, voice almost a whisper. He didn't lift his gaze from the table in front of him.

"She didn't know who you were," Hunter guessed. He was still watching Cam through slitted eyes, no discernible expression on his face.

Cam shook his head wordlessly, dropping his hands to the table again.

"Then I'd say your dad was wrong." The words were jarring, and not only because of their source. "She obviously respects this kind of--" His shoulder twitched, as though he wanted to gesture but couldn't bring himself to waste the energy. "Life," he finished vaguely. "She gave you the amulet. You can't ask for any more encouragement than that."

"She didn't know she was giving it to her son," Cam said with a sigh, but he did look a little less troubled.

"She knew she was giving it to you," Hunter pointed out. "She saw you without that parent filter that your dad still has, the one that made him keep you at Ops today when you could have fought. She saw you, and she liked you without even knowing who you were. That's a pretty good vote of approval, right there."

The parent filter. Did he have that?

Of course he did; what parent didn't. Or perhaps he should say, what parent who knew their child didn't. But did it make him hold his son back from things he was willing and capable of participating in? He hoped not... though he had to acknowledge the possibility.

"Hunter the counselor," Cam remarked, sounding more like himself. He reached out to tap the morpher idly, but he didn't pick it up again. "This day can't get any weirder."

Hunter didn't so much as twitch at the change in subject. Gaze still fixed on Cam, he inquired, "Wanna make out?"

"Thank you for proving me wrong," Cam said dryly. "Next I suppose you'll offer to program a new power sphere."

What? Had Hunter just suggested that he and Cam "make out"? Or had the colloquialism evolved so much that it was now an acceptable thing to say to one's friends? Were they even friends? It occurred to him that Hunter had yet to offer any explanation for his presence, and Cam had not only accepted it but also shared something unusually personal.

"You must have gotten your sense of humor from your mother," Hunter was telling Cam.

"Among other things," Cam replied, an odd note in his voice. Then he seemed to shake it off, and he added, "You'd be surprised, though. Dad can do deadpan humor when you least expect it."

"Sure," Hunter agreed readily enough. "He's just quieter about it."

"He didn't use to be," Cam remarked, to his father's chagrin. "He used to be..." Here he hesitated, tapping his morpher again. "More like you, actually."

Hunter lifted his head, dropping his hands down on the table and sitting back on his heels. "Okay, enough with the family comparisons. Let's go."

"Where?" Cam asked, surprised but not immediately resistant.

"Somewhere I can kiss you, since you're obviously not going to let me do it here," Hunter shot back. "You've probably got cameras all over this place."

"Just the one," Cam muttered, putting his hand over his morpher. It pulsed brightly, and when he lifted it off the table it was a necklace-sized charm again. He placed it around his neck and pushed himself to his feet, clearly intending to follow Hunter. "I'll walk you out."

He held very still, watching the two of them make their way across the room. As they disappeared up the stairs, he thought he saw Hunter bump Cam's shoulder deliberately. Not a word of protest drifted back into the suddenly silent control room.

Well, at least he knew his grasp of current slang hadn't slipped that much.

When had his son started seeing boys? It hadn't been uncommon when he was a student, back when women were forbidden to train and all the academies were residential. But Cam had friends of the opposite gender, had even gone out with some of his female classmates from time to time. If he'd had any interest in such a relationship, he hadn't mentioned it to his father.

Not that he was mentioning it now. If he wanted advice, he would have asked for it already. His son was old enough to make his own decisions. That much had been clear even before Cam stepped out of the portal with the amulet around his neck. Cam had made decisions for all of them, then, and made them well. He could make this one for himself.

And yet... No matter what he told himself, he couldn't avoid a nagging sense of doubt.

Hunter?