As his virtual replicant disappeared into lines of holographic static, Cam shook his head in frustration. CyberCam drove him crazy. It wasn't that he wasn't brilliant, or different enough that his view of problems was actually useful. It was more that he was a constant reminder that Cam himself wasn't good enough.

He knew he didn't have time to do it all himself, and he wouldn't want to even if he did, but the thought that he couldn't rankled. The fact that he had created the program they depended on more and more wasn't much of a comfort. The creation was a one-time thing, while the dependence continued, even grew, from day to day. The fact that the program came up with solutions he wouldn't have considered was even more annoying.

And, when he admitted it to himself, the fact that he and CyberCam weren't as different as everyone seemed to think was just the last straw. He often caught CyberCam saying something he was thinking but, for the sake of team harmony, had refrained from speaking aloud. On top of that, it was no secret that most of CyberCam's hobbies were things Cam had always wanted to try but never had time for. Given that...

Well, the way the rest of the Rangers treated CyberCam stung. He told himself it was ridiculous to be offended, since he tried to distance himself from the virtual replicant as much as possible. They were just following his example. And if the Thunders in particular seemed to regard "distance" and "hostility" as synonymous, then that was just the way they reacted to everything.

He took his glasses off and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Setting his glasses down beside the monitor, he stretched his arms over his head and closed his eyes for a minute. He'd probably been in here too long if he was back to brooding over the CyberCam issue. After all, CyberCam's original purpose had been to free up more of his time--

It was like some cosmic power had overheard his thoughts. Before he could even stand up, there were footsteps on the stairs, and he contemplated hiding out back until whoever it was went away. But no, then they would just call CyberCam, and if it were important he would end up right where he was now.

Whoever it was caught sight of him before they even reached the bottom of the stairs, and yes, it was definitely him they were looking for. "Hey, Cam!"

Hunter's voice. It just got better. "Yo," he said with a sigh. Maybe if he acted more like CyberCam, they would "distance" themselves from him too?

He actually smiled a little at the thought. Yeah, he was tired. His father would be thrilled that he was contemplating taking a break from Ninja Ops voluntarily. Maybe some lunch. Lunch would be good.

It didn't occur to him that Hunter had hesitated until he heard the other Ranger say warily, "CyberCam?"

Cam rolled his eyes. Was that really all it took around here? One little "yo" and suddenly you were someone else? "Yeah," he said sarcastically, not bothering to turn around. "What up, bro."

Hunter didn't answer right away, and his voice had cooled noticeably when he answered, "Where's Cam? I need some help with my bike."

"Isn't that more Dustin's field?" Cam asked irritably. He and CyberCam might not be so different, but they certainly didn't act the same. If Hunter, with his marginally more reliable powers of observation, didn't bother to notice the difference, what did that say the rest of the team?

"Not my moto bike," Hunter snapped. His impatience mirrored Cam's. "The Ninja Glider Cycle."

Cam turned, a retort on the tip of his tongue when he caught sight of Hunter. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have said anything, since to comment revealed that he had noticed, and to notice implied that he was looking. But Hunter hadn't even realized who he was talking to yet, and Cam couldn't resist needling him. "What," he said, folding his arms, "are you wearing?"

As expected, Hunter bristled. "What do you care?"

He didn't, of course. Hunter wore stuff like that all the time: pants that were too baggy, shirts that were too tight. It was hard for a guy as built as Hunter to look lanky, yet somehow he managed it with surprising frequency--and today was no exception. Cam considered the result with a smirk. "I'm just saying," he remarked, amused by the way Hunter's mouth thinned.

He was touchy today, Cam decided. He didn't know what made him mimic CyberCam, but his virtual replicant did have a way of making a point. "Dude," he said, resisting the urge to put the word in quotes, "the outfit's not exactly a babe magnet, you know?"

Hunter folded his arms across his chest. "Who says I'm trying to attract babes?" he demanded.

Hunter had set himself up for that one, and Cam's smirk grew. "So, what," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You saying you swing the other way? 'Bro'?"

Rather than the vehement denial Cam had expected, Hunter just shrugged. There was a guarded look in his eyes as he replied, "I didn't say that." Before Cam could process that, Hunter added, "But if I hear anyone else say it, I'm telling Cam your programming's messed and you need a total reformat."

Cam just stared at him. Hunter had not just admitted what Cam thought he had. As it sank in that, yes, in fact he had, Cam felt the corners of his mouth twitch. Hunter wasn't going to be happy when he realized who he was really talking to.

Apparently uncomfortable with the silence, Hunter prompted, "So? Where's Cam? What does a guy have to do to get some service around here?"

Cam bit back the most obvious and totally inappropriate response to that question, because, no matter who Hunter thought he was, there was no way he would get away with it. "He's right here," he admitted. "What'd you do to the Glider Bike this time?"

"Nothing," Hunter said defensively, his gaze darting around the room. "It just--"

"Maybe if you'd stop crashing it every time you took it out," Cam interrupted.

Hunter scoffed, not waiting for him to finish. "Talk to me when your twin bro stops crashing the chopper!"

Cam threw up his hands. Hunter still thought he was CyberCam? And how exactly was the chopper's single crash in any way comparable to Hunter's abuse of the Glider Cycle? "The chopper went down once! That bike's been rebuilt three times!"

"You sound like Cam," Hunter grumbled. It was a tossup as to which one of them was more exasperated by those words. "Spare me the lecture, okay? I just need the stabilizers checked. It was veering all over the place last time."

"It doesn't steer itself," Cam commented, turning back to the computer. He could do a diagnostic from here. "I hope you considered pilot error as a possible explanation."

"Yeah, very funny," Hunter muttered. He was more subdued than Cam had expected, not bothering to snap back at him. He leaned on the back of Cam's chair, though, which didn't strike him as strange until Hunter asked, "So where is Cam, anyway?"

Cam almost paused over the keyboard, but he managed to cover his surprise as several things dawned on him at once. One, Hunter was always directly behind his chair, no matter how many people were or weren't in the room. Two, Hunter was treating "CyberCam" a lot better than he typically did--at least when Cam was around to watch. And three, that was the third time Hunter had asked for Cam, despite "CyberCam's" willingness to help him.

He should tell him. He really should; this was stupid. He wasn't going to go around pretending to be CyberCam just to save Hunter some embarrassment.

But that was what it came down to, wasn't it. If he told Hunter now--not that he hadn't tried already--Hunter would probably be embarrassed. And really, did it matter that much? He would run the diagnostic for Hunter and send him on his way. And he would remember not to imitate the way anyone else talked for a while.

"I dunno," he said at last, deliberately casual. "Probably doing some 'real' work somewhere. You know how he is." His mouth quirked a little, and he added, "Couldn't get a life if his life depended on it."

"Yeah," Hunter muttered. "Tell me about it."

Cam's eyes narrowed. Hunter had better watch it, or not embarrassing him wasn't going to be much motivation. Luckily for him, the diagnostic flashed red and magnified a list of specs in the middle of the screen while the rest of the program continued to run in the background. Hunter had been right after all.

"Problem?" Hunter asked, leaning over his shoulder.

Cam glanced sideways, noting Hunter's proximity before his gaze returned to the screen. "Yeah," he said, not bothering to hide his surprise. "You're right. One of the stabilizers is malfunctioning."

"Can you fix it?" Hunter wanted to know.

Cam raised his eyebrows, but didn't deign to reply directly. "I could fix it from here if it was one of ours," he said instead. "I'll have to go replace it at the source."

A reflected flicker on the monitor indicated that Hunter was now looking down at him. "Can you do that?" he wanted to know. "I thought you were stuck in Ninja Ops now."

Cam snorted. Did they all think that? How did they think CyberCam came and went from the zord bays? "Dude," he said, emphasizing the word a little too heavily. "'Devoted to work' and 'incapable of leaving' are two totally different things."

Hunter grunted but didn't reply.

Realizing he might have been a little too vehement, Cam shrugged. "Not that you'd know, with the way Cam hangs around here," he said carelessly.

"Yeah..." He could hear Hunter's uncertainty as the diagnostic finished and found nothing else wrong. "You know, you really shouldn't bag on Cam like that."

Surprised, Cam turned around without thinking. Hunter dropped his hands from the back of the chair just quickly enough to look uncomfortable, and he crossed his arms. "What?" he demanded. "I just think, well... he did make you."

"What, one dad isn't enough?" he blurted. He was too disconcerted by a sudden--and fortunately fleeting--perception of CyberCam as his child to come up with anything more clever.

Hunter gave him an odd look, and Cam realized belatedly that of course CyberCam wouldn't consider Cam's father his own. Or... would he? Cam had never asked. But then, he'd never expected to be impersonating his own creation, either.

"How much like Cam are you?" Hunter asked abruptly.

He wasn't sure he liked that question. He definitely hadn't expected it, and he couldn't come up with any truly innocuous way of answering. Finally he just shrugged, smiling. "I am Cam," he said truthfully. "CyberCam is just Cam without the baggage. You know what I'm saying?" he added, not waiting for an answer.

Hunter went to follow him as he headed out of Ninja Ops. "Dude, I'll take care of the stabilizer," Cam told him. "You don't have to come."

"Maybe I don't want you working on that bike without me," Hunter countered.

Well, that was unexpected and potentially annoying. He was becoming less and less thrilled with this "CyberCam" act, and he had assumed it would end as soon as he'd sent Hunter on his way with assurances that his bike would be good as new the next time he needed it. Now it looked like that moment was farther in the future than he had thought.

"Whatever." He offered a shrug instead of a sigh. "Your waste of time, not mine." He hoped Hunter wouldn't wonder why he didn't just transmit himself to the zord bays. Cam couldn't transmit and CyberCam couldn't teleport, so if Hunter was going to accompany him, walking was the only option.

"So, what did you mean about Cam and baggage?" Hunter asked after a moment.

Cam tried not to groan. What was it with Hunter and his curiosity, today of all days? And what on Earth had made Cam put himself through this just to spare Hunter's feelings? He was obviously out of his mind. Hunter would never know or care about the trouble he was going to.

"Why are you so interested in Cam?" he countered, deciding that he wasn't the only one who should suffer here. "You hot for him or what?"

Hunter actually stopped in the middle of the hallway, and Cam made himself keep walking. What did he care? CyberCam wouldn't stop just because someone else did. CyberCam didn't even help out without being asked first, unless it amused him for some reason. And CyberCam definitely wouldn't pass up a chance to make fun of his least favorite Ranger.

Hunter's footsteps had resumed by the time he reached the access ladder, and he heard the Crimson Ranger on the rungs above him a moment later. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," he called, his matter-of-fact words drifting down the tunnel to Cam.

"Sure thing, dude." Cam paused to key open the next access, then continued down the ladder. Some mischievous impulse took hold, and he yelled up, "Denial only makes it worse!"

There was no answer. Hunter was startlingly easy to tease today, and he supposed he should thank Hunter for the misunderstanding that made it even simpler for Cam take advantage of it. He doubted he would have said half these things to Hunter without the guise of "CyberCam."

Hunter was right behind him as he climbed off the ladder onto the appropriate level, and Cam had only just noticed how close he was when Hunter literally shoved him into the wall. His arm was twisted around behind his back, his shoulder screaming as tense muscles made the hold even more painful. He was so surprised he didn't even resist.

"I don't know what you think you know," Hunter growled, his breath harsh in Cam's ear. "But if you say a damn thing to Cam, I'll find a way to make you pay." His fingers tightened on Cam's arm until the grip hurt almost as much as the position. "You got that?"

Cam managed to nod, gasping as Hunter released his arm and spun away without another word. With Hunter's back to him and nothing but pride standing in his way, he reached up to cradle his shoulder. He rolled it carefully, biting his lip as he watched Hunter walk away. Down the corridor, through the last door into the zord bay, and out of sight around the corner. He didn't look back once.

What was that about? He should be angry, furious, incensed at the treatment he had just received from the Crimson Ranger. But he couldn't muster up the appropriate outrage in the face of a sneaking suspicion he was trying very, very hard not to acknowledge. Just the idea that Hunter's reaction was rooted in something more than an unpredictable temper was--

He wasn't going to think about it. He didn't want to know. He really didn't.

"Shut up," he snapped.

Great. Now he was talking aloud to a voice in his subconscious. A voice that was his, pretending to be a clone that pretended to be him. This day could not get any more bizarre. He hated to even think it, because every time he'd said something similar in the past, he had been proven dramatically wrong. But really...

He was going to have to follow Hunter at some point. He tried not to drag his feet, a little wary of what he might find in the zord bay. How long could it take to replace a stabilizer? He didn't doubt that he was going to set a new record doing it today.

Hunter was crouched down next to his bike when Cam finally wound his way around the auxiliary bay. He stopped, frowning as he considered the Crimson Ranger's motion. He looked like he was--

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Replacing the stabilizer," Hunter retorted. "What does it look like?"

Cam just stared at him. "If you could do that all along, what did you need me for?"

Hunter shot him a single glance over his shoulder before going back to his work. In that look was everything Cam had been trying not to acknowledge. Because of course Hunter could recognize a stabilizer malfunction when he saw one, and even if his ability to repair it was something new... well, it hadn't been CyberCam he was looking for in the first place.

"Look, you're not even doing it right," Cam said, irritated beyond reason by the whole situation. He strode over to the bike, dropping down beside Hunter and letting his hand hover until Hunter had released the faulty stabilizer. "Give me that."

Hunter jerked away. "What do you care?" he snapped, turning to glare at Cam.

"Believe me, if you crash this bike one more time I'll do more than 'care'!"

There was a fraction of a second between the realization that they were only a breath apart and the time when it would have been appropriate to turn away. The moment wasn't long enough. He didn't move. He wasn't the only one frozen in place, either. Hunter was staring right through him, and the thought of what might be running through his mind was more than a little frightening.

Finally, after what seemed an uncomfortably long time, Hunter spoke. "How much like Cam?" he asked again, very quietly.

Cam opened his mouth, but he couldn't think of anything to say. "Enough," he said evasively, looking away. He gathered himself to stand.

Hunter's hand on his chin shocked the intent out of him, and he couldn't pull away before Hunter's mouth covered his. Gentle, tentative, it was a kiss Hunter had no right to give and certainly no reason to expect returned. As horrified as he was, Cam would have sworn his breath completely deserted him as his entire body stiffened.

And yet, somehow, his lips parted and he held as still as he could, mouth welcoming what the rest of him said was unsought, insulting, and totally out of line. Hunter lingered, too close, and Cam's mouth brushed against his again. It wasn't... terrible. It felt strange. Scary. Exhilarating... like he was waiting for time to start again and with it the rush of inevitable recriminations.

Hunter drew back a little, blue eyes dark and unreadable as he scanned Cam's face. He didn't say anything, but his gaze dropped to Cam's mouth and his breath escaped in a silent puff. Closer, slowly, almost reluctantly, like he couldn't help it... Cam could only watch, mesmerized. He had never imagined Hunter like this.

Their mouths met again, more certain this time, stronger and maybe a little more insistent. There was no getting around it. They were kissing. He was kissing Hunter, and he was even sort of enjoying it. His breath caught in his throat as Hunter's tongue teased his lips. He closed his eyes, wanting to feel more than he wanted to see.

It wasn't a deep kiss, but he couldn't let it go, leaning into Hunter even as he pulled away and feeling the pressure willingly returned. They were balancing each other now, almost holding each other up as they crouched beside the forgotten bike. The give and take was more than he had expected, warmer and gentler and more considerate than he had thought Hunter could be. It drew Cam in, closer, wanting to see how far that warmth would go--

It wasn't just Hunter that was warm. By the time he realized that the heat in his chest wasn't natural it was almost burning his skin, and he jerked away from Hunter with a startled exclamation. Clawing at his training uniform, his fingers closed around his amulet and he yanked it free, dropping it even as it scalded his hand.

"What is it?" Hunter demanded, grabbing for him as he wavered and pulling him to his feet. More stable, he caught Cam's hand and turned it over before Cam realized what he was doing. "Are you--"

Cam snatched his hand away, too late to hide the angry red marks on his palm. CyberCam wouldn't burn. Hunter's gaze went from his hand to his face, a confused look that slid away to focus on the amulet on the floor. "What are you doing with..."

His voice trailed off, and Cam closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he found Hunter staring at him with a look of horrified disbelief. "Cam?" His expression belied the dangerous calm of his voice.

Cam didn't answer. There wasn't anything he could say. It had seemed, at the time, like the most harmless way out of an uncomfortable situation. Only in retrospect was it clear how wrong what he had done really was.

"Cam," Hunter spat, taking a step back. The disgust in his eyes hurt more than Cam's conscience. "What kind of mind games are you playing?"

"I didn't mean," Cam began softly. Hunter waited, but Cam already knew his actions were inexcusable. "I didn't mean to do it," he muttered, unable to hold Hunter's gaze any longer.

There was an indrawn breath, then silence. The moment stretched interminably. Cam swallowed hard.

"Fuck you," Hunter said bitterly. He turned and walked away without another word.

Cam just watched, eyes on Hunter's retreating figure until it vanished through the nearest exit. He dropped to one knee, then, lifting his amulet from the ground by its cord and touching it carefully. It was cool, room temperature, no trace of heat from it now. He had no idea why it had reacted the way it had, but he replaced it around his neck with a sigh and turned back to the bike.

Every thought in his mind was muted and numb. For once, his brain wasn't ticking along at its accustomed speed and the void left by his thoughts was actually something of a relief. He picked up the fallen stabilizer, knowing Hunter would need it eventually and equally sure the Crimson Ranger wouldn't be setting foot in the zord bay any time soon.

He set about replacing it, methodically, thoroughly, testing the bike as he went. It wasn't that he doubted the parts or the procedure. It was only...

It was the least he could do.