Work Text:
We regret to inform you
In service to the school
Fought with honor
Our deepest sym
Cam buried his face in his hands, abandoning the keyboard.
He couldn’t do this.
He’d promised himself he would, because someone had to. The teachers were gone and Dad didn’t even have hands right now, so there was literally no one else. Someone had to tell the families of the missing ninjas.
He just hadn’t expected it to be so hard.
What was he supposed to say? ‘Your kid was kidnapped by space ninjas’? ‘Sorry we promised they’d be safe here - didn’t exactly see that one coming’? ‘They fought the good fight, you should be proud’? ‘They’re probably dead, we’re kind of hoping they’re not, but we don’t really know’?
“You think too much, Cam.”
The memory of her standing there, looking fondly exasperated with him came so suddenly it was painful. He couldn’t even remember which time it was; she’d said it so often, always with the same expression on her face that they’d all sort of blurred together in his mind. It was the look that was firmly embedded in his brain, the memory of how she’d always be annoyed, but still …
He closed his eyes, swallowing hard.
Maggie had always pushed him to stop analyzing things, to just … do. He’d argued that he couldn’t just ‘stop thinking’ the way some people did - and heaven help him, but he’d always pictured a certain trio of new students when he said it from the moment he met them - that the human brain didn’t work that way. And Maggie would roll her eyes, and look at Agatha and Mark and Christy, and then they’d all laugh because it was a fight neither of them would ever win …
The last time he’d seen Mark, his shoulder had been on fire, and he was desperately trying to put it out. Agatha had been trapped in one of the bubbles with the others - he could remember the look of fear on her face as she pressed against the sides, trying to get free. He had no idea what happened to Mags or Chris; he lost sight of both of them after the Kelzacks attacked.
For all he knew, Lothor had already killed them all.
It wasn’t just his friends, either: the younger students had been inside the building when it was sucked up into the sky. He’d been blown free by the vortex when he was running to get them to safety. Some of them were barely into their teens. With the mass of flying debris … had any of them even survived it?
Logically, he should go to each of their parents and explain the situation in person. That terrorists had attacked the school, and hostages had been taken. That they were doing everything they could to find them. Tell them calmly, gently, that things weren’t certain, but to have hope.
But he kept thinking of the fear on Agatha’s face and the terrified screaming from inside the building as it disappeared, and something in his throat closed up.
Letters seemed safe. It appraised their families of the situation and warned them to make preparations should the worst happen. It addressed the need to notify someone without potentially bringing the school’s honor into question.
Even if it felt a little too impersonal.
The sound of thundering footsteps that usually signaled the arrival of the Rangers broke him from his thoughts. He didn't bother looking up. They were either here for training with his father, or to hang around for no particular reason - something they'd been doing with a discerning amount of frequency as of late.
" … You okay, Dude? You don't look so hot."
"I'm fine, Dustin," he said automatically. He didn't hear the other two pipe up, which meant they were here for training. Why Dustin had come over to him at all was -
Well. Then again, it *was* Dustin.
"You sure?" Dustin persisted. "'Cause if you're sick or something, I can totally go pick you up some Nyquil - "
“I’m not sick,” he snapped without meaning to.
There was an awkward pause. “Is … something wrong?”
Why wouldn’t he just go away all ready? “I’m fine,” he said shortly. Maybe being harsh would help.
More silence.
“You don’t look fine, Dude.”
“Don’t call me ‘dude’,” he said automatically, and sighed. It seemed Dustin was too genuinely concerned to let it go without some sort of response. “I was thinking about the missing students,” he admitted at last. He was too tired and frustrated to think of a lie.
“Yeah.” Dustin’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I worry about them too.”
He looked up at that, surprised. Shane, Dustin, and Tori had been with the school for barely a year, and as far as he knew, none of them actually knew any of the other students or staff. The three of them rarely stuck around after classes ended the way most did, usually off doing their various sports instead. “You do?”
Dustin blinked and shrugged. “Well, yeah, Dude. I mean, what if they’re scared and worried and stuff? It’s not like we can tell them we’re gonna get them out soon, you know?”
We’re gonna get them out soon.
Cam stared at him for the longest moment. Part of him wanted to remind Dustin that they needed to be realistic. The likelyhood of everyone being not only found alive, but released was … astronomical. Dustin’s blind faith was admittedly sweet, but there was just no possible way that …
And yet …
He felt himself nod. “Exactly.”
Dustin patted his shoulder. “But we will, right? So don’t stress so much Dude, you’ll get wrinkles!”
Cam stared after the teen as he bounded over to join the others.
We’re gonna get them out soon.
Yet …
Maybe … maybe it couldn’t hurt to have a little hope.
He turned back to his computer, staring at the blank screen for several moments. The memory of Mags flickered through his thoughts again, but this time it was countered by the sound of enthusiastic yelling in the corner. From the sounds of it, Tori was winning a three-way spar.
He swallowed hard and began to type.