Not for the first time, John Connor found himself crouching behind an inanimate object avoiding death by metallic fist. In fact, he realized, it wasn't even the first time for this terminator. They were definitely wandering into Looney Tunes territory at this point, even if Cromartie did make a somewhat sinister Wile E. Coyote. At least this time he wasn't propelling himself off the end of a pier. Twenty yards away, Cameron and Cromartie were locked in combat, barely visible in the dim lighting, and metal fists clanked on faces. Cameron seemed to have the upper hand, he noted, despite her incongruously small size.
He ruthlessly pushed down an urge to rush out there and help her. He wasn't going to do that again, he thought bitterly. "You can't be trusted anymore." It would have hurt less if she'd slapped him. He'd risked everything for her, for the chance that she would really be back to normal. Back to the terminator he'd fallen for. And maybe because a little part of him had believed that she meant what she said… that she loved him back. Now that a few weeks had passed, he could admit to himself that he had been that stupid. Terminators didn't feel anything. Certainly didn't feel emotions. Definitely didn't feel love. Cameron wasn't any different. He was her mission and he needed to use her as a tool for his survival, nothing more.
He clutched the pocket knife held in his hand a little bit tighter. Blade extended. Just in case she needed him, he thought, and felt a fresh burst of annoyance at himself.
Cameron's combat boot clad foot slammed solidly into Cromartie's midsection, and John's attention snapped back to the fight at hand. Cromartie staggered back, but before he regained his balance Cameron was there, spinning him around and into the wall and window of the building John was crouched behind. The wall crumbled with the force of impact, and Cromartie found himself ensconced between shattered brick, twisted rebar, and a determined Cameron.
John smiled tightly. Another terminator about to be added to the kill count, he thought. At this rate, his future soldiers were going to be left wondering where the fighting went.
Cromartie's monotone voice, a little tinny from a well placed punch Cameron had landed earlier, rang out. "Do not do this. This is the wrong thing."
That trick again, he mused. Must be stock programming. Broken-hearted pain aside, he was going to be very amused if Cromartie declared his love for Cameron next. Well, it hadn't worked on him and he couldn't see how it would have any different effect on an emotionless robot, but he supposed Cromartie had to try. True to expectations, Cameron didn't reply. Instead she pinned his arm behind him, and Cromartie was left nearly completely immobilized. John ran forward, recognizing that his otherwise useless-against-terminators pocket knife was needed.
"This isn't the right side. You are on the wrong side, Alison."
Alison? John skidded to a stop, and noticed with a twinge of alarm that Cameron had come to a blank-faced halt as well. Before he could weigh the potential benefits of starting to run away a little earlier this time, however, her face hardened almost imperceptibly and she shoved Cromartie's body further into the wall. John let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and sprinted the rest of the way to them.
Cromartie's head was nearly completely surrounded by the broken bits of wall and window. John felt a sliver of glass slice the side of his hand as he quickly cut through Cromartie's skin with none of the hesitation he had shown for Cameron. Peeling back the flap, he hurriedly pried off the cover and snatched out the chip in Cromartie's head. It's over, he smiled to himself with relief as he watched Cromartie go limp. Cameron pulled his 'body' out of the wall and it collapsed onto the ground.
John stared. Imprinted into the wall, albeit with somewhat jagged edges, was an outline of Cromartie's body. The Looney Tunes parallels just keep on coming, he mused. Cameron followed his gaze to the wall. Not finding the answer there, she turned back to him.
"What?" she asked.
"Beep. Beep." He waggled his eyebrows at her, feeling suddenly giddy. Cameron stared at him blankly.
"Heh, never mind… Ok then. What are we going to do with Wile E.?"
"Cromartie. You are bleeding." He followed her gaze. Oh, right. He'd cut his hand on that glass. In his happiness to be free of his most persistent pursuer he'd forgotten about that. Now blood dripped freely down his hand and onto the grass.
A thought occurred to him, and he glanced up at her, silently hoping she'd go along with his plan.
"I'm going to walk home. You take the truck and go dispose of Cromartie in a lake or something." He hoped his voice sounded convincingly authoritative.
Cameron stared at him quizzically. "You're injured. You should take the truck. And I can dispose of Cromartie at the house."
These smart terminators were really inconvenient sometimes, he thought. "It's not far. And you'll look like a freak carrying a deactivated terminator over your shoulder. Just do it, ok? If you bring that thing home Mom's going to freak and move us again."
Cameron looked at him for a moment more, then spun around and hoisted Cromartie up. That was probably acceptance, he thought, as he watched her walk towards the vehicle. He began walking towards home, praying he didn't look like a person with a hidden agenda. The second he heard the noise of the truck disappear into the darkened distance he changed directions and broke into a trot. Lake hunt or no, he was going to have to be quick to beat Cameron back home.
Cromartie had called her Alison. God only knew how he had managed to find them when even Cameron had been unable to find her way home as 'Alison,' but he had, and if John didn't find and destroy whatever that clue was there might be another terminator sent from the future to follow that same trail. He needed to do it alone, too, he felt sure. Ever since Cameron's second memory-loss episode he had found himself closely watching her for signs of trouble, half fearful that at any moment she would flick back into Terminate mode. Amnesiac Alison mode certainly was an improvement over that variation… but still. It was probably best not to give her reminders of her previous confusion. At any rate, this would probably be simple enough to do alone. He knew where to start – the place where Cameron Baum had once briefly been a scared teenage girl.
He was going to the homeless teen's shelter, and all he had to do was to find and destroy everything that had anything to do with Alison Young.
Authors Note:
Thank you for reading! Next chapter: John finds the Alison Young files, and Cameron mostly just tries to find John. Feedback is awesome and makes me giddy. Constructive criticism is also awesome, but produces somewhat less giddiness.