Author's note:
This is the second part of my Christmas story, continuing from where we left off in part one. You should have read part one for this to make any sense. And don't forget that the last two episodes of season 2 never happened here.

Cameron's Christmas
(part two)

Chapter One

The world around him dissolved. The heavens contracted, reducing the stars to his size and throwing them over the common, only permitting them to collapse, to be pulled into the churning maelstrom that had opened up inside him, leaving nothing in their wake apart from the dark decades of singularity's oblivion. Whirling blackness.

But then there was light. Two points of light. Reflections.

She's the sun…

The future leader of mankind had broken down and wept copiously over the lifeless form of his cyborg protector, tears spilling onto the already sodden coat he had placed over her shoulders to keep his love warm.

She had told him not to. In that cold winter's night she had cared more for him than for herself. Like she always had.

He had cried her name, a dozen times he had called it. He'd shaken her, even slapped her face in a futile attempt to revive her, before the panic that had been relentlessly creeping up inside him took hold of his heart in its iron grasp, clouding his reasoning, rendering him barely conscious.

Her dark eyes were open, staring unblinkingly at the night sky, the stars' reflections twinkling out of them. Shining.

She's the sun…

John forced himself to try and concentrate on those specks of light in her eyes. He had to free himself from this mental abyss. He would not give in and let his tired out body succumb to the freezing cold inside him. And all around him.
Hadn't his mother once told him that you die from the cold if you sit down and rest or fall asleep in the arctic?
Whatever…

I won't let anything happen to you…

Slowly, forcefully, John managed to stand up, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. He knew he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and he could not afford to lose control. Not now when Cameron needed him.
Telling himself again and again that she was a cyborg, a machine, and therefore could not be dead, John felt his mind eventually clear. Experience acquired in the long years his mother had trained him finally kicked back in and he ascertained the situation.

He was stranded in the middle of a field, it was pitch black and he was soaking wet and freezing. Cameron had glitched, malfunctioned, and her system had shut down for some reason. Such was his situation.
There were no obvious threats he could detect. Even if this had been an ambush, he thought, it couldn't be metal because he'd have been dead by now. And if there were any human threats about, they clearly couldn't see him as much as he could see them. On the other hand, if they had night vision devices he'd also have been dead by now, John concluded.

Which deems the situation actually quite safe, he thought with a sneer, running his fingers through his hair and sighing.

His main concern at the moment was getting Cameron home. She was too heavy to carry, he knew that from previous attempts at moving her. He and his mother had had to chuck an electrocuted and shut down Cameron out of a third storey window once to get her out of a building as quickly as possible before a Triple Eight showed up.

There was nothing else for it. He would have to resort to dragging her along through the snow.

It was easier than he had expected, thanks to the now frozen snow allowing her body to glide a little. John had taken hold of her arms and was pulling her along behind him.
It was still hard work, though. After ten minutes, he was completely knackered. At least it was slightly downhill and he could already see the street lights from the road they had come by.
Jeez, why couldn't we have brought a sledge…

He needed to rest just for a little while to get his strength back. Crouching down next to her, John rested Cameron's head against his rapidly rising and falling chest and absent-mindedly began to stroke her hair out of her face.

"It's going to be okay. Don't worry, I'll never leave you" he whispered in her ear, hoping that she would be able to hear him in some miraculous way.
Don't leave me, Cameron…

Just as his tears threatened to well up again, John suddenly remembered something.

Mobile…

He frantically started searching through his pockets for his mobile phone but it wasn't there.
Blast! I know I took it with me, where the hell—…

Then it came to him. He had placed it in one of the pockets of his coat before he and Cameron had gone shopping in the morning. Ransacking his coat, which Cameron was wearing, for the phone, he finally felt it tucked away in the inside pocket.
Breathing a sigh of relief and shaking his head at himself for not having thought about calling his Mom in the first place, John took his mobile out and pressed the key-lock release.

Nothing happened. The display remained dead whatever he pressed.

"It can't be empty! I charged it last night!" he howled in dismay, hurling the idiotic device away as hard as he could.
"Bastard things, they never ever work when you need them!"

After his initial rage had subsided, a beaten John got to his feet and was just about to start pulling his prostrate protector down towards the street again, when a sudden thought struck him.
Cameron's mobile…

She always carried a telephone on her as well, even if John for the life of him couldn't fathom out where she sometimes put it, since her outfits didn't always have pockets. At least her leather jacket had, though, and it was in one of its pockets in which John found her mobile phone.
Still wondering where she would have hidden it if she wasn't wearing her jacket and instantly dismissing the idea of secret compartments with a shake of his head, John took it out and prayed to the god of microelectronics.
Dear Steve, please let it work…

His prayers were answered as the display lit up.

I don't believe it. No network coverage…

It cost John all the self-control he was able to summon to refrain from uniting Cameron's mobile with his own. After having shut his eyes and counted to ten, he placed the phone in his pocket, grabbed Cameron's arms and continued on his way down towards the street, dragging her along behind him again like a sleigh.

Almost on autopilot, John relentlessly placed one foot in front of the other, stomping through the snow like a machine and ignoring the searing pain in his arms as his muscles protested with every step he took.
"Not far now" he wheezed, as the first street light was now only a few feet away.

There was a park bench under the street lamp at the edge of the meadow and it was onto this an utterly worn out John collapsed after having carefully sat down his limp cyborg, taking care that she wouldn't slide off.
There was no way he would make it back to the house like this. And he couldn't just drag her along behind him through the streets. It would look a trifle odd, to say the least, should anyone spot them.

I hope the damn phone works now…
Trembling with the cold and his exhaustion, John slipped his numb hand into his pocket and withdrew it clutching the phone in anticipation.
Yes! Thank you, Steve. Two bars should be enough…
A thoroughly relieved John was just about to dial his mother's number, when…

"'Ello, 'ello, 'ello. What's all this, then?"

Dammit. The law. Always when you don't need them…

Unbeknownst to John, a patrol car had silently drawn up at the curb near the bench where they were sitting, and its occupants were strolling towards them.

"You need help, son?" the older of the two coppers asked John whilst regarding Cameron with a concerned frown. "Is she sick?"

"No, thank you, Sir, we're good. She's good" John hastily replied, wishing this was all a dream and that he would please wake up now.

The younger copper turned to his colleague. "She doesn't look that good to me, Hank."

"No, Burt, she doesn't" the older, fat one replied, before he addressed John again.
"What's wrong with her? She been drinking?"

Jeez…
"Err … yeah. We've been to a Christmas party and, err … well you know how it is. She's never touched any before and overdid it a little. We're just on our way home, Sir."
Please go away…

The fat copper made no intention of leaving; instead he walked up to Cameron and took her by the wrist, trying to feel her pulse. His left eyebrow crept up his forehead and he placed his hand on her neck, trying to find a better spot.

Shaking his head in concern, he turned to his younger companion.
"It's very weak and she's freezing cold. Get on the radio, Burt. She needs medical attention."

"Right, Hank. And look at her eyes! She's out cold" Burt remarked at Cameron's unblinking stare, before he returned to the patrol car.

John watched the two police men's interaction incredulously.
Weak pulse indeed…
He put his head in his hands. They were going to cart Cameron off to hospital. What if the doctors X-rayed her? John didn't so much care about their cover being busted but of what would happen to Cameron, if her secret were revealed.

Noticing the boy's distress, the copper called Hank placed a hand on John's shoulder.
"It's okay, son, we're calling an ambulance."
He did an 'I-feel-your-pain' lip bite which he had once seen Bill Clinton perform on television and which he had perfected to the point of absurdity.

Burt joined his colleague again and informed them that the ambulance was on its way.
"Soon have you at the hospital" he said to the unresponsive girl on the bench.
Then he turned to John and asked "By the way, you have any ID on you?"

Dammit…

John knew he couldn't afford to let the police men see their identities. It would involve awkward questions. He also couldn't afford to let Cameron be taken to hospital. Trying again to suppress the feeling of panic which was rising in him, John frantically checked his options.
The trouble was, he had none. He considered running for it, but he wouldn't even make it a few yards dragging Cameron along. And leaving her was definitely not an option.
If he showed them their IDs and the coppers checked them, he'd be nicked on the spot and Cameron would be hauled off to hospital.
If he didn't show them their IDs, they'd probably search him and find the gun tucked in his waistband for which he had no licence. He'd be nicked on the spot and Cameron would be hauled off to hospital.

"Your ID, son" the fat copper now insisted, sauntering up beside his colleague in the usual 'you spread out – I'll surround them' fashion, his thumbs in his belt loops while he presented his formidable stomach.

"Err … I haven't got it on me."

"What about her?"

Thinking fast and throwing caution to the wind, John made up a cock and bull story.
"We left her handbag at the party with our IDs in it. I'm sorry, Sir. It was just, I wanted to get her home before she passed out, you know, and I forgot all about her bag. I'll collect it tomorrow."

Hank considered him for a moment. "Okay, son. I'll make you a deal. You call your parents. If they come and pick you up I'll let you go with a warning" he offered, indicating towards the mobile still in John's hand.

"I've already tried that, Sir. There's no one picking up" John told the police man, experiencing an uncanny feeling of déjà vu.

"What about her parents?"

"Um … they live abroad. Friends of my Mom's. She's staying at our house."

"Hmm" Hank was mulling over John's answer when Burt interrupted.

"Ho! So that's why you wanted to get her home, eh? A pretty girl staying at your house. Well, bang goes your Christmas Eve, then, doesn't it?" Burt leered, grinned wickedly.

"Shuddup, Burt" Hank shot his colleague a disgusted look. "Look, son. As soon as the ambulance arrives you're coming with us to the hospital. You can give your mother another call from there."

Just then, John heard the sound of a vehicle approaching.
Must be the ambulance. Oh Christ…

John's heart leapt into his throat as the sound of tyres in the snow gradually grew louder. Then a car slowly passed them. He let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.
Phew! It wasn't an ambulance, just a passing car…
He couldn't make it out all that clearly, but he thought it must have been a Jeep.

The fat copper had been watching John's obvious apprehension at the sound of the arriving car. He regarded John thoughtfully for a while and then spoke to the younger officer standing next to him, his expression doubtful, still looking at John.
"You know what, Burt? There's something fishy going on here. I'm not so sure about—"

Whack

Hank collapsed into a heap on the ground with a splat, right in front of his colleague. Burt's eyes widened in astonishment.
"Hank? Hank! What the hell—"

Whack

Burt joined his colleague in the snow.

"Bloody hell, John, what have you done?" an irate Sarah Connor hissed, gesturing at the immobile coppers at her feet and the equally immobile cyborg residing on the bench next to her son.

"Mom!"

Wonderful, blissful relief flooded through John as he leapt up and rushed over to his mother, hugging her. Sarah ruffled his hair and patted him on the back. All his pent up tension was suddenly released at once and he started sobbing into her shoulder.

"Tell me what happened, John" was all she said. She didn't scold him for being soaking wet, or berate him for being in open ground without any cover, without an exit. Sarah knew her son's grief must have something to do with the cyborg, she guessed the cause of it had to be some terrible loss. Sarah knew enough about grief, about losing things. In sort of ran in the family.
We all lose people we love…

"Mom…" John managed to force out between sobs "she's gone, she's…"

Sarah held her shaking son tight, stroking his head like she used to when he was little, and hummed some tuneless melody, which used to comfort him when he was afraid of the dark in the South American jungles.
He gradually calmed down and pulled out of his mother's embrace, breathing heavily and wiping his nose on his sleeve. Sarah automatically went through her pockets for a tissue.

"We have to get her home, Mom. I have to bring her back."
He stared at her wide-eyed. "I can't loose her. I can't go through all this again."

John stumbled shakily back to the bench and sat down next to Cameron. His voice started to quaver as he looked up at his mother with pleading eyes.
"Please, Mom. You said you'd stop it…"

He really loves her…
Sarah's face was set as she fought the urge to shout at her son, to try and make him understand that the cyborg – should he be able to repair or resuscitate her or whatever – would never be able to love him back.

They don't have feelings. They don't know love…

Sarah recalled what she had said to him a long time ago in a similar situation. She remembered the cyborg's lifeless body lying in the back of the ambulance, its features seemingly so innocent, and how her son had spent the whole drive trying to mend her chip.
She had already suspected at the time that John's affection towards the machine was more than just caring. One more reason why Sarah had decided that she had to convince him of the danger he was putting himself into, if they didn't destroy Cameron.

But she had failed.

She had realised that right after John had reinserted Cameron's chip and helped his cyborg out of the bed of the truck, standing next to her as if they were meant to be, as if defying anybody to try and separate them.
Sarah had understood. Hated it, but understood. Her son was in love with a machine.

Sarah Connor had sworn to herself that she would destroy the machine within the blink of an eye, should it develop any more hostile moves against her son, no matter what. All her suspicions about Cameron had been fulfilled, she was not to be trusted.
And John had to be dissuaded from treating her like a human girl. For she was not, she was a cyborg from the future programmed with a specific mission, a mere machine and dangerous at that. She would not let her son fall for a lump of metal. Period.

Sarah actually had thought that she had won, that John had come to his senses, when he had started to push the cyborg away. Even though Sarah hadn't approved of the flaunting girl at all and had deemed it unwise, she was deep down nevertheless still relieved that John had started going out with Riley, a human girl. Anything's better than the machine, she had thought.

But now, seeing her son stroking the immobile machine's cheek so tenderly, Sarah felt something stir within her. She knew what it was like to love. Like she had when she was nineteen and had loved Kyle. The one day and night she had had with him had been enough to last a lifetime. Even Charley could never have changed that.

Sarah decided.

"I'll stop it."

She strode over to the bench and started to drag Cameron's heavy body by its arms towards the Jeep parked a few yards away.

"Thanks, Mom" John said hoarsely, getting to his feet to help his mother. Together, they hastily dragged Cameron along the snowy street, slipping and sliding on their way. With a bit of a struggle, they managed to heave their burden into one of the rear seats, just as they heard a low groan emitting from one of the coppers Sarah had downed.

"Get in the car, John. We need to go" Sarah urged him.
John quickly got in the back beside Cameron and fastened their seatbelts as Sarah tore away.

…