Title: I Don't Sleep
Author: mirroredsakura
Fandom: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Rating: PG
Pairing: John Connor / Cameron Phillips
30_kisses Challenge: #1 look over here
Warnings: Minor spoilers for seasons 1 and 2.
*
Riley was a liability.
She talked loudly. Fast. Far too much.
Cameron stood on the other side of the door, hands hanging loose as she shut down all motor functions and muscle control and applied herself only to listening. This was the key to efficient consumption of her power cell. No cybernetic organism could be completely certain of finding an alternate power source, especially so far from the Skynet mother lode. Even in the future, those commandeered and reprogrammed for the Resistance were at risk—Resistance leaders were much more concerned with reprogramming metal than with providing them power.
In any case, machines were built with efficiency as their top priority. So Cameron stood as if a statue, her HUD dimmed to its lowest settings. It was the closest thing to sleep that she could afford herself, while still remaining aware and fully able to react to any extraneous threat within 0.06 seconds.
And Riley's voice droned on. And on. And on.
Cameron briefly considered shutting down audio input, but rejected it immediately. Sound was almost always the first indication of danger, of an intruder. She would endure. File away the audio backup with a SPAM tag in her memory banks.
"What did I tell you about that little rule involving clothes?"
With a soft electronic whine, the Terminator booted up motor function control again within 0.06 seconds—exactly as she'd expected—to turn her head towards Sarah Connor, leaning against her doorframe. This was basic etiquette—looking at whom you are talking to. "Riley's here."
"I know. She tripped the motion detectors. That doesn't answer the question."
"You said: Don't go walking around the house in your underwear. And don't do it around John, it confuses him."
"And?"
"This is a camisole. Cotton-polyester blend. RGB: 176-224-230, Powder blue. Statistically one of the most non-sexual colors in the color spectrum. No bones will be jumped on."
It was important to practice the current vernacular. Cameron had sustained minor damage to personality functions some time ago, assumedly before her reprogramming. It meant that running her most accurate saved portrayal of a sixteen-year-old human girl was slightly corrupted and decreased combat abilities by nearly 44.06%. Unthinkable to run, now that she had finally made contact with her Principle. Thus, it was important to relearn all these things and implement them in her speech patterns while running Basic. So far, it seemed to have sufficed, even after further damage to her chip had occurred.
"And I can tell you're not wearing a bra."
"I don't understand."
"That makes it count as underwear. Go put something on."
Clothes. Clothes were not the primary objective, John Connor's safety was. Sarah Connor should realize this.
Riley was a liability. Cameron opened her mouth to remind Sarah of this.
The door opened, and the both of them turned to it immediately, all conversation suspended. Cameron closed her mouth.
It was John.
"Guys, we can hear you."
His eyes turned to Cameron, likely to reprimand her for her actions first. But the moment he focused on her—and exactly what she was wearing—they kept going, sliding right past her. Perhaps Sarah was right and the camisole was a poor choice of attire. It made him avoid looking at her entirely, and his ears turn red. Sarah certainly did not seem to have any trouble keeping his eyes on her.
"Don't just stand around my door talking about Riley like that. It's creeping her out. Don't you guys have anything else to do?"
John is annoyed. Cameron filed the situation away, tagging it appropriately. It was best for the Principle to remain content with his bodyguards, not annoyed with them. The Terminator was of the opinion that had Sarah Connor not interfered, she would have been able to maintain her silent vigil until Riley finally left the premises without incurring John's annoyance. The entire state of affairs could potentially have been avoided.
"It's getting late, John. Shouldn't she be getting home soon?"
Sarah was trying to salvage the situation. Cameron could have told her that if she was trying to pacify John, her words were not the optimal choice to diffuse her son's annoyance. But humans did not like it when she meddled.
"It's none of your business, Mom."
Nor did they appreciate other humans meddling either. She watched silently while he continued to ignore her, staring fixedly at a point between his mother's eyes.
Perhaps she should change. But already, he had turned to go. In the background, behind his elbow, Cameron could just see Riley's face as the girl sat up on John's bed. She did not appear very comfortable with the current circumstances either.
"And another thing... stop saying that about Cameron. I couldn't care less what she wears. She's my sister. What you're implying would be... disgusting."
Machines could not feel pain. But Cameron still found herself looking away. Yes, it was time to change.
There was a long pause. Everyone stood still as if they wanted to say something more but wouldn't.
And no one did. The door swung shut, and Sarah Connor made a half-exasperated, half-despairing sound. Cameron walked away.
*
At 3:45:13 in the morning, Riley left. Cameron was on the roof when she heard the disturbance, peeking over the edge of rough shingling to observe, a 9-mm at the ready just in case.
As she held the pistol aimed directly at the buxom blonde's head, she had the momentary compulsion to simply pull the trigger. Riley would no longer pose a threat to their situation, and John would—
John would...
No. The situation would deteriorate, such as the damage done when she had allowed Jordan Cowan to self-terminate.
She let Riley go.
"Cameron?"
John. He knew she was up there.
"I'm here."
"I know you're there. I'm asking what you're doing up there. Trying to spy on us again?"
"No. Not trying to spy."
"Well?"
"I was watching TV. There was a movie that said that the world would end if a meteor crashed into the Earth."
"Armageddon?"
"Yes."
"And you're telling me that's how the world's going to end?"
"I don't know how the world ends."
"So what are you looking for?"
"Just in case."
He sighed, leaning his elbows against the window frame. "Even you couldn't prevent a meteor. Besides, it won't happen tonight or else there'd be no world for Skynet to take over."
"It does not need to end the world. It only needs to end you."
"So you're just going to watch every night to make sure a chunk of space rock doesn't come flying in to kill me?"
"I don't sleep."
"Even so, that's still pretty impossible."
John was right. She had other things to do during her nights while the rest of the household slept. Some of it was important, very important. She paused, unsure which strategy would allow her maximum capability of protecting John, either from dormant Terminators or from random discharges of space matter.
A minor conundrum. Perhaps they could meteorproof the walls. But that would still leave the window. On the one hand, it would have the added bonus of forcing Riley to come in through the front door, thereby passing through the majority of the house where she could be watched and her threat level properly ascertained. On the other, it meant one less escape route for John in times of danger. He went through windows a lot.
"Just... come down from there. You can decide inside. One of the neighbours might see you."
"We don't want them asking questions."
"Exactly."
This was a logical request. Pocketing the handgun, she slipped down nimbly off the edge of the roof, swinging and sliding neatly through John's open window, booted feet landing on the polished wooden floor of his room with a very audible thump.
One of the downsides to a coltan alloy endoskeleton is the weight of it. Cameron would never weigh as little as she looked like she should. Perhaps she should consume less pizza.
John was staring at her oddly. "Cameron, it's boiling out. Why are you in a sweater?"
She looked at him. White cotton undershirt, Fruit of the Loom, size Medium. Signs of perspiration evident. She looked down at herself, at the fuzzy pink sweater she'd traded the blue camisole for. "I wanted you to look at me."
There was a sudden silence, and she fixed her gaze back on her Principle, trying to gauge his silence.
"What does that have to do with anything?" There was a rough note to his voice now, an annoyed sound or maybe just embarrassment. It was difficult to ascertain. She hastened to explain.
"I noticed you were unable to look me in the eye earlier. I thought this would make you more comfortable."
"Don't you... don't you feel hot?" He seemed determined to change the subject.
"Yes. I feel heat."
They had had this conversation before. Did he not remember?
"You didn't have to change just because I... just because you thought..."
"I wanted you to look at me," she said again.
Simplicity. This was important. A learned scholar named Phil had explained this.
"I need to protect you. My ability to do so is compromised by nearly 24.65% if you stay at such a high level of discomfort with me. I don't want that."
He seemed to settle down a little when she said that, although a slight frown creased his lips. Why did he react like this? Was it because he wanted reassurance? That she was doing this just because it was her job? But then why was he frowning? It denoted unhappiness, some form of discontent. What sort of answer was John looking for?
"It's getting late," he said finally. "I've got to... well tomorrow is..."
John did not have any excuses left. They no longer went to school. Their mornings did not contain any pertinent and scheduled activities.
"I'm tired now, Cameron."
"I understand."
It was time for her to go. And it was just as well. She needed to research, to come up with a viable solution to the meteor dilemma.
"Hey, about earlier—"
She paused at the doorway, turned her head just enough to look him in the eye.
"I didn't really mean it... quite like that."
It. It what? She quickly brought up the backup of the last conversation, ran through it in approximately 1.24 seconds, and then nodded in understanding. John Connor was apologizing. She smiled.
"It's okay."
Watching movies had provided her with a large number of effective gestures, better to recognize situations and to engage fully in human interaction. Her smile widened. It was working. She must attempt more in the future to gauge reaction.
So she blew him a kiss, a standard goodbye in many parting situations.
John's cheeks turned faintly pink and his jaw dropped the tiniest fraction.
An appropriate reaction. And this time, he did not look away—just stared at her, bug-eyed.
Cameron left, satisfied.
*
I was worried about actually posting this. I've been fretting over it since I started it because I don't know if it's actually fic-worthy and not just... boring. But my sister found it cute, so I decided to put it up anyway.