Foreword:

I'm trying something a little bit different this time, in another setting and another time. I wanted to have some fun with the characters i didn't get to play with during my work on the 'First time...'.

This story will be an AU version of the second season, starting just after 'Samson & Delilah' (though not exactly, as you'll know just after the prologue ^^ ) and in the beginning it'll focus on the challenges that episode, and the one ending the first season, left John with. It'll go its own way, however, and quite quickly at that, so expect new turns in the story, as well as some new characters. The existing ones will also follow a different route then in the show.

Expect the story to be a lot longer then my first work, i think it'll be around 100k words, in about 20 chapters, or so. Unless it grows on me, which it might.

Also, this is NOT a prequel to the 'First time...', making it AU to that story too. So you can't be sure of anything and anyone, really ;p

* Prologue *

~ 7th November 2010 ~

~ Log Angeles suburbs, California ~

Two men stood opposite to each other in the rain. Big drops of water fell on their faces, ran down their shoulders and clothes that were already too wet to hold more. Their breaths, heavy with barely controlled emotions were the only sound braking through the constant hum of the heavy rain.

Lightning flashed nearby, brightening their hardened faces for a slight moment and a perceptive observant could probably notice a hint of a family resemblance in them, despite a considerable age difference. Both of them were quite handsome, though the younger one's face was marked by a hideous 'Y'-shaped scar on its left side. The older's features, one the other hand, were a lot harder, complemented by a several days old stubble and unkempt, now also completely wet, hair.

All of those differences, however, were dispelled by the eyes, piercing each other with intensity, stubbornness and anger that seemed to make them mirror reflections. They didn't break each other's gaze even for a fraction of a second.

"I'd sooner beat you to death here, then allow you to do it.", the older one said quietly, his trembling voice barely audible thorugh the storm.

Having said that, he clenched his fists and raised his hands in a guard, slightly shifting his legs for better balance.

"I could say the same.", the youngster responded firmly, a slight hint of arrogance in his voice, nonchalantly sliding his jacket, heavy with water, off his shoulders and letting it drop into the mud at his feet. "It's about time...", he added, raising one hand and flippantly inviting his opponent with a delicate move of two fingers, "...you learned something from me, Reese."

"The only thing i can learn from you, boy, is how to make a fool of yourself.", he heard a growl back, "and even for that, it's way to early yet."

And then the man leaped in a blur, like a panther, brightened by another flash in the skies, aiming a powerful blow right at his nephew's jaw. He had an advantage, in strength and experience both, so he could allow himself a little more recklessness in his movements. He wanted it to end quickly and painfully, he hoped the humiliation would only make the boy remember this moment more, despite the fact that the outcome of his defeat alone would give him reason enough for remembrance...

The youngster surprised him, however, evading his blow easily, moving to the side and launching a powerful knee into his torso, followed by a blindingly fast spin and a roundhouse, off-hand blow to the head, while he was still stunned by the kick.

Derek crashed heavily into the ground, splashing mud around with a loud squelch, droplets of water shining in yet another flash of an angered sky.

"You're underestimating me.", Connor stated the fact, moving slightly away and looking at his uncle slowly getting up, shaking his head.

And while he did so, with a mixture of pain, surprise and sense of pride on his face, Derek knew that the boy was right. He'd made a mistake. He underestimated him. Looking now at the powerful, swiftly moving figure in the rain, it wasn't a boy he was seeing. It was his General. And underestimating General Connor was a grave mistake, even if he was only 19 years old.

The man spat some blood out, and wiped his mouth.

He didn't know where his nephew learned to move like this, and he clearly didn't imagine this confrontation's beginning to look this way, but he wasn't going to give up on his vision of its ending. Even if right now, looking at him, it made him feel like a traitor.

For your own good, boy. , he thought with determination, clenching his fists once more. I should've done this years ago.

A thunder growled in the distance, and both figures moved suddenly, as if it was a signal, breaking into a bloody dance.

Neither of them was going to step back. The stakes were too high...

* Chapter I *

~ 14th November 2007 ~

~ Los Angeles, California ~

A pair of piercing, green eyes was was looking at him firmly from a wounded face. Short, badly cut hair stood up fiercely, giving his reflection a slightly rebellious look. The boy moved his hand over them, shaking off some free flocks, and looked at his face once more, feeling himself being drawn, unwillingly, into the world of memories...

...He unclenched his shaking arms, letting the body fall to the floor, his mind blank like a sheet of paper. He felt himself shiver, when the man's ghastly, unseeing gaze seemed to meet his own...

A sudden knock on the bathroom door was what brought him back.

"Yea?", the boy asked, without turning from the murderer's face looking at him from the mirror. Did he imagine the contempt in his reflection's eyes?

"I made you a sandwich.", he heard his mother's voice. "Brought you some clothes."

"I'll be out soon."

For a moment the only thing disturbing the silence was the sound of her moving, just behind the door.

"John... i want to you know everything that happened today...", Sarah started, after a while uncertainly, "everything we did...it was all...it just happened the way it did...and there's nothing we can do to change it..."

His treacherous mind turned into another alley, showing him yet another unwanted memory of today. The worst day of his life.

..."I love you! I love you, please... I love you John, and you love me!", she screamed pleadingly looking at him, brown eyes shining with tears... He felt those words stab him like a dagger, straight to the soul, felt them echoing inside him...

His hands gripped the cold, smooth surface of the washbasin, still full of brown, clumsily cut hair. He stroked it absently. It reminded his of the...

...the weapon felt heavy in his hand, when he was looking into his mother's terrified eyes. He saw Derek's and Charlie's faces too, at the edge of his vision. All three of them stared helplessly at the scene playing out before them, their eyes following the slowly rising girlish figure and the boy holding them under his gun...

The boy shook his head, trying to return to reality, to get out of his pained mind. He tried in vain, however, it wasn't possible.

"Whatever happened, we're alive... Ok? we're alive...", the voice of his mother behind the doors broke slightly. "I know you need more from me today, but... it's gonna have to be enough..."

John was still quiet, deep inside the darkess of his own nightmares.

Why did i do it?, he asked his reflection in the mirror silently. How could i... how could i point a gun at my own mother?

"Can you hear me?", she asked weakly on the other side. "If you're listening..."

"Yeah, i'm listening."

"Happy birthday.", she added quietly, irrationally, and a horrible, sad irony stabbed like a needle into his heart, even though he knew that was not her intention.

Who am i?, John Connor asked himself, combing his hair with a hand once more.

He didn't know the answer. He knew, however, that he had to find it and he had to do it soon. Before someone gets hurt...

Sitting on a bench, John looked emptily on the sculpture of a crucified Christ hanging above the altar. It was a bit raw, with all its too vivid blood and a blunt crown of thorns. The boy had always found it strange, that the symbol of hope and redemption was such a brutal and painful image.

Redemption, eh?, he thought bitterly, biting his lip.

"Did you sleep?", Derek asked, coming into the room and passing John to stand near Sarah.

She shook her head.

"What do you do with a guard dog you can't trust?", the woman answered him with a question, and John felt his gaze linger, without his consent, to the girlish figure standing nearby. Her face still wore signs of yesterday's hardships, brown hair was in a mess. Looking at her the boy felt a myriad of emotions flood over him, from anger, through disgust, a shadow of fear and ending with an overpowering sense of relief. Questions, still left unanswered, started to push themselves up in his mind again, but he firmly pushed them back.

He wasn't ready for this yet.

"What? That one?", Derek answered his mother, throwing a look at the cyborg and then, he nodded his head at the suffering sculpture. "I spent the night talking to him."

"I think she's outside his jurisdiction.", Sarah said with strange look on her face and the man clearly didn't know what to make of it himself. "Just a wire knocked loose, or something.", she added looking at her son."So he says."

The boy stood up, streching his bones.

"Bitch is nothing but wire.", Derek remarked, looking at him and John knew who those words were meant for. Irritated, he rushed between them, purposely, marching towards Cameron. "It's only a matter of time.", he heard behind him as he walked.

Everything is a matter of time., crossed his thoughts angrily in response. The world is fucking ending.

Cameron raised her eyes at him when he came closer.

"It's healing quickly.", he mentioned looking at the wounds on her pretty face.

"Quicker then yours."

"What about the rest of you?", he asked. "You back to normal?"

She looked at him in some strange, mysterious way. Big brown eyes seemed to search for something inside of him, studying every inch of his face.

"Things have changed, John.", she finally answered.

"What things?"

"You can't be trusted anymore."

He felt a great, crimson river of anger rising inside of him. He clenched his fists, then unclenched them, trying to stay in control.

"Me.", he said, narrowing his eyes. "I can't be trusted anymore?"

"You risked your life to fix me.", Cameron explained calmly. "That was a very dangerous thing to do. That could upset people."

The boy looked over his shoulder, at Sarah and Derek still standing there.

"They'll have to deal with it.", he decided firmly, but his cyborg only titled her head a little.

"Not them.", she answered and walked by him, towards the exit. John followed her with his eyes, in complete incomprehension until he heard his mother's voice next to him.

"What did she say?"

He shrugged, moving his eyes to her.

"Nothing."

A moment of awkward silence came between them. Sarah looked at her son, trying to decide if it's worth it to push the issue.

"You should go to shool.", she said finally, changing the subject. "Start on a new place."

John looked at her incredulously, rising his eyebrows.

"School, mom?", he asked. "Really?"

"You always talk about how english is so boring...", she started, but suddenly, something in her son's eyes told her to stop.

John shook his head slightly, rising his hands. He looked at them for a while and something seeemed to fight on his features.

I'm going to live like before? As if nothing happened?

He raised his head slowly, looking at the sculpture above the altar and feeling those words echoing inside his mind. A moment later, as quickly as it sparked, the battle inside him was over. Slowly, he shook his head once more.

"There's a lot of things i need to learn, mom.", his voice was quiet and piercing. "English, however, is not one of them. And boring is the last thing i need right now."

"John...", Sarah started once more, but he stopped her, rising his eyes to meet hers.

"No. I'm tired of preterding i have a normal life. I'm tired of even trying to pretend. I think it's about time we all faced the truth, looked at how the things really are. Starting with me.

"And how are they?", she asked him with a growing anxiety, cold shiver running down her neck.

"I've become a murderer at the age of 16, mom. That's how they are.", he responded, looking coldly at the grimace of pain at her features and noticing Derek, a little farther, suddenly turning his head in their direction. "And nothing will ever be that same. There's no turning back now, no normality."

He passed her by, going in Cameron's footsteps, but stopped for a moment near the entrance.

"We'd better concentrate on looking for a new place for now.", he added, looking over the shoulder. "I'd prefer something with a large garage."

And with this words, he left, leaving them crushed in awkward silence.

Georgie Reynolds looked at his discovery with interest, trying to come up with any explanations that made sense, and finding it disturbingly hard.

The crime scene was surrounded wirth a yellow police tape, but it was night already, and sliding along the law's edge wasn't a problem for Georgie. He worked in this bussisness far too long to have any reservations like that, knowing very well that a good private investigator needs to be able to work as well outside the law, as he does inside it. And Georgie was one of the best.

Kneeling near the destroyed jeep, the bulky, 46 years old man threw a look at the ruined house, illuminating the structure with his hand flashlight. Then he followed the strange, wondrous traces right to the place he was kneeling at. The trace was a strange, irregular line and if not for his years of experience he probably would've missed it, a slight trail on the dark asphalt. Reynolds had good eyes, however, and noticing details was his work for almost a quarter-century.

The car explodes., he mused in his mind, trying to objectively analyze what he's seeing. After the explosion., he scowled, with no understanding for his own thoughts. Yes, definitely after the explosion, a single person leaves the driver's seat, leaving slight marks of soot nearby., his eyes moved along the street, following his flashlight. He's strong and heavy, enough to be wiping his shoe's sole off, slowly, when he limps because of an injured leg. He walks towards the house and dissapears inside...

He shook his head, looking incredulously at the ruined car, once more.

"But how, for fuck's sake, did he survive this?", Georgie asked rhetorically. "And why does the distance between his feet, and the size of them, suggest the figure of a teenage girl, yet the same foot's prints in mud, a little bit farther, point towards someone as heavy as a muscular, athletic guy?

He smiled slightly under his breath, scratching his almost bald head. Even if he forgot about the gigantic amout of money his client offered today, up front, this case just became exceptionally interesting. Georgie liked a challange.

Roadside motel rooms were never on the list of John's favourite places and this one wasn't an exception. His bed stinked with God only knows what and the walls screamed loudly, pleading for a repaint. He also had an honest hope that the stain on the carpet came from a tomato juice, even though the bullet holes on a nearby wall made that hope kinda futile. The image of terror was completed by an old, just barely working TV, which channels he switched now, half-heartedly.

They stopped here after spending most of the day looking for a new home. All of them agreed that stretching the hospitality of a priest that was already very generous and helping, would not be fair. The only choice left was a motel.

At least they paid for cable..., the boy sighed inside, and glanced at the nearby bed.

Derek sat there, cleaning his weapons with monotonous, practiced moves. He was just putting together one of two Glocks lying on the bed, his face focused, eyes devoid of any visibile emotion. At first, John was afraid the experienced soldier will ruin his evening with preaching about machines and unhealhy attachment, considering they were alone in the room, but nothing like that happened.

Perhaps i'm judging him too hard too..., passed through his mind. After all, he lived in a world i can't even imagine. For now, at least...

"If that guy from check-in came here right now.", the boy said amusedly. "He'd probably get a heart attack. Or called the cops."

His uncle shrugged his shoulders, a shadow of a smile on his lips.

"Or both. Though, considering this place, i think he sees the same in every other room.", he answered. "To sleep in a place like this, you've gotta be either poor, or at odds with the law.", and then with a broader smile he added. "Or both."

"We're not poor yet.", the boy replied, returning his smile.

"Wait until your mother finds that new house.", the older man remarked and then both of them chuckled, amused. Then a silence fell, interrupted only by slight murmur of the TV, when some policemen pursued mobsters in a stupid holywood movie on the screen. The boy couldn't even remember the title.

"So...", Derek started uncertainly after a while. "How do you feel, John? Everything alright?"

"Huh?"

The man shook his head slightly.

"C'mon, you can't fool me. You know what i'm talking about."

The youngster didn't respond for a longer while. In all truth, he wasn't completely sure what his uncle was getting at, though his intuition hinted that the other topic, one he was afraid of all evening, wouldn't get such a delicate handling from the grizzled soldier. He still didn't really know how to answer, however, so he remained silent. Then, just when the older man was coming to a conclusion that they won't talk about it today, the boy suddenly whispered softly.

"I don't... don't know, Derek. I knew yesterday. There wasn't a minute i wouldn't remember how...", he trailed off and covered his eyes with a hand. "But today everything is... like a dream. I'm affraid i'll forget completely soon..."

He heard the sound of heavy footsteps, and a moment later felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You won't forget it, boy.", said his uncle's voice and there was a sadness in it, but also a certainty, one that can be born only from experience. "You won't"

The youngster dropped his head and felt his lips quiver.

"He... he wanted to kill mom..."

The older man just nodded his head.

"He was a mobster, John. If someone leads a life like that...", he paused, as if lookig for the right words. "If you live by the sword, then you die by the sword."

The boy didn't answer. His uncle gave him another light squeeze on the shoulder and turned back to his bed. When he was almost there, though, his newphew spoke once more, quietly.

"Derek?"

"Yea?"

"Thank you."

The man smiled slightly, lying down on his bed and trying to make himself comfortable between holes and springs sticking out of the mattress.

"No problem, boy.", he finally answered. "You're welcome."

Lying on her bed Sarah fought with irratation. In a fit of decency, she proposed moving to a motel herself, and now, she got what she asked for and wasn't happy, being in a dirty little room with a cyborg, standing near the window, as her only company. She would've liked to be with her son right now, being very concerned about what was happening with him since yesterday. She would've liked that a thousand times more but she knew Derek wouldn't stand spending a night in the same room as the metal.

And will i stand it?, she asked herself with a sigh, fearing she won't sleep a wink again, today. She looked at the Source Of All Evils, calmly brushing her hair. Staring at the 'girl' she almost felt the wound on her stomach, where the cyborg's little foot was pressing visciously just yesterday, ache again.

"I'm sorry.", suddenly came from near the window.

Sarah blinked, without comprehension.

"What?"

"You are touching your belly.", Cameron explained, turning her head slightly to look at her over the shoulder and the woman realized she's telling the truth, and moved her hand. "I did this to you. I'm sorry."

Sarah closed her eyes tiredly and lied her head on the pillow, moving some wet, dark strands out of her face.

Why does she have to be that way, sometimes..., she murmured inside. When everything seemed easy and transparent, she would suddenly make a turn and act almost... No! She just looks differently and it makes me pity her. It was all the looks. All in the damn looks. Oh, damn him, why couldn't he just have sent another 'Uncle Bob'?

Things would be so much simplier if he did...

"Just... don't do it ever again.", she heard herself answering irrationally, and it only served to irriate her more. She knew, after all, that the machine had no choice in the matter, or any other matter, while we're at it.

Cameron didn't respond.

And when Sarah was slowly drifting into an uneasy sleep, the one thought, recurring like a nightmare in her mind was:

Why did he send something like... this?

They found a house the next day. A solid, 2-storey building with a lot of free space, a big garage and driveway large enough to allow several vehicles. It was on the suburbs, the neighbourhood was quiet enough and price quite steep, but Sarah firmly refused to continue searching, mumbling something about motel rooms under her breath, and paid the landlord for 3 months in advance.

John offered to go hunting for furniture as soon as they arrived and she agreed, watching him uncertainly – which she did almost all the time since his sudden confesion in the church.

"Just be carefull.", she said, smiling weakly. "Don't spend too much. And take Der..."

"I'll take Cam.", he interrupted, looking at the cyborg standing near the window once again, who looked back at him, kinda questioningly.

Cam?, crossed Sarah's mind with irritation. When did he start shortening her name?

For a while, the woman didn't answer, furrowing her brows and looking at her son, then the terminator, and then back at her son once again. After recent developments she still didn't trust the machine, but she knew she'll have to entrust John's safety to her, sooner or later, anyway. The bigger problem was trusting John himself. Cameron had an influence over her boy, an influence that seemed far to big to stay healthy, which he proved without a doubt no more then two days ago. Sarah still remembered the sight of the weapon, held by him and pointed at her. She would've prefered to keep them away from each other for a time, and hoped that perhaps he'd be afraid of her and kept his distance. Clearly, that didn't seem to be the case.

"Alright.", she agreed finally, knowing that a refusal would only make matters worse. "Take Tin-Miss. She's standing whole day by the window looking like a lost puppy anyway."

She saw Derek scowling at the edge of her vision, and would've bet one of their diamonds without hesitation that the soldier's thoughts mirrored her own quite well.

"A lost puppy?", Cameron asked intrigued, tilting her head.

"Just a figure of speech.", the boy answered her, walking towards the door. "You coming?"

She moved, before reaching the door, however, she managed to ask again.

"But why do i look like a lost puppy?"

John burst out laughting and Sarah just shook her head tiredly. Derek didn't react in any way, his gaze still on John and his cyborg, a heavy look that the youngster felt on his back as he closed the door behind them.

They drove the car, John behind the wheel, she in the passenger's seat. Her big brown eyes followed surroundings with attention and the air flowing inside through the half-open window made her hair dance chaoticaly. From time to time she methodically moved loose strands behind her ear. She didn't close the window, however, which somehow seemed intriguing to the boy.

"Why don't you close the window, if the wind disturbs you?", he asked, finally, most of his attention still on the road.

She looked at him with one of those mysterious, auburn looks of hers.

"It doesn't disturb me.", she replied. "I like wind."

"Like... meaning... like?", he asked, unsure.

Cameron shrugged her shoulders.

"Like means to have positive feelings towards someone or something. I don't have feelings, so i can't like. I can't, however, find a better word to describe the satisfactory sensation of the air touching my..."

"You like it.", he cut her short, earning himself yet another look of those brown pools.

"I like it?", she asked, uncertainly.

"You do."

She nodded her head, a slight shadow of a smile creeping on her lips.

"I like it."

They drove in silence for a while, the young man revelling in a sudden burst of good mood. He had to admit to himself he was kinda afraid of this trip, he was afraid of the first moment alone with her, afraid of the memories and fear that still lurked inside of him, just behind the boundary of consciousness. That's why he wanted to go with her, to check his own reactions. Now, however, even though he wasn't really sure why, his fears were slowly fading into nothingness, some warm, nice feeling taking their place.

She's still Cam..., he thought, relieved. Still my Cam...

Somewhere, behind that boundary of a conscious mind, a small part of himself asked why exactly does he call a murderous cyborg "his", but he pushed it away, irritated. He wasn't in a mood to deal with unimportant details right now.

"John?", asked the object of his thoughts after a while.

"Yea?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?"

He felt his blood stop in his veins for a moment, his heart losing a few beats. Is she reading my mind, or something?, came through his thoughts. In all fairness, though, it was a good, logical question. Cameron wasn't an idiot, to the contrary, she was quite a genius in her own way and she udnerstood quite a lot about people now. It really shouldn't come as a surprise that she would draw some conclusions from everything that happened between them recently.

"Should i be?", he asked, finally, glancing at her.

She was staring at him, unblinking, in that machine way of hers.

"Fear would be a natural reaction after what i have done to you."

His imagination showed him images of cyborgs throwing cars and screaming love confessions for a moment and his hands gripped the wheel tightier, without his consent, which he thought probably didn't escape her attention, focused completely on him right now.

"It wasn't you.", he answered finally.

"No. Not completely. But it wasn't completely someone else, either."

He nodded his head, keeping eyes firmly on the road.

"You promised you won't kill me."

"Yes. I promised."

"It's enough for me, then.", he said simply. "I've got no reason to be afraid of you."

I don't want to be afraid of you...

A moment of silence.

"And if i go bad again?", she asked once more.

He shivered slightly.

"I'll worry about it then."

For a while, the only sounds were the whisper of wind, noises of traffic and a slight murmur of the engine. Cameron shifted herself in her seat.

"Don't do it.", she finally said, quietly. "If it happens again, don't take risks to fix me."

He felt her eyes on him, once more, piercing him for several seconds, before she finally turned away, looking behind the window. He wanted to say something, but his throat gave up on him treacherously and the only thing he could manage was:

"Cam..."

"What you did was very unwise, John.", she interrupted him. "There are people in the future who think we are to close to each other. Acts like that only reinforce their fears. It is dangerous. And illogical."

The young man allowed his mind to analyze her words for a time, keeping his attention on driving the car.

Too close..., treacherous, teenage part of his mind noticed in silence. What does that mean, exactly...?

"I can understand dangerous.", he replied, ingoring his hormones with a hint of irritation. "But why illogical? How can i save milions of people, if i can't manage to save one person close to me?"

How close...?, unwanted remark emerged again, pushed back into the depths of his subconscioussnes moments later.

She looked at him, auburn pools holding his own eyes.

"I'm just a machine, John.", she answered. "An object. And risking your life for objects is illogical."

He felt a cold shiver running down his spine. His hands clenched the wheel with way too much strength when an irrational anger filled his heart. An object? , he growled inside. Does she see herself as some kind of a fucking toaster? But then, he scolded himself in his mind, directing all the anger inwards. And what is she supposed to see herself as, if noone treats her differently? The decision was made in a flash, his hand activating the turn signal with a quick move and he drove to the side and stopped the car.

"John?", she asked in confusion.

He turned to her and reached with his hand, touching her face suddenly. He was met with something that – he could swear – could be named a surprise. He felt the softness of her hair with an extreme clarity, admired the smoothness of her skin.

"Yes, you're a machine.", he finally said, letting his hand stroke her cheek gently. "But you're not an object, Cam."

"But John..."

"You're my only friend.", he interrupted her, and suddenly, it all became clear in his mind. He understood, at last, why he didn't fear her, why, despite her wanting to kill him not so long ago, he couldn't force himself to hate her. To hate her was to be alone, and John feared that much more then any frenzied machine. "Aside from Derek and my mother, you're all i have."

"But..."

"You're not an object.", he cut her off, irritated. "You understand? You're not. Repeat after me."

She tilted her head slightly, unconsciously to herself, but very consciously to the man nestling her face more into his palm.

"I'm not an object...?", she said finally, uncertainly with a clear question mark at the end.

"You're not."

Consternation crossed her features.

"What am i then? And why not an object?"

And what now, smartass? Philosophy's not your strong point...

A moment later, however, he suddenly smiled broadly. The answer was so simple, after all.

"Not what, sweetie.", he answered, still grinning and still stroking her face. "Who. You're a person. Cameron Phillips. You have a name. Objects don't have those."

Sweetie...?, irritating voice of his subconscioussnes asked again.

Realizing abruptly, along with that thought, what his hand was doing, he took it away, not without regret. For her part, Cameron seemed to think on his words for a moment.

"I see some sense in this.", she answered finally, looking at him and nodding her head. "Thank you for explaining."

"You're welcome.", John replied. "And from now on, if anyone objectifies you, tell them you have the right to knock out their teeth for that.

"Alright, John.", she smiled slightly. "I will."

"Great.", he returned the smile, starting the car once more. "Let's get going, we're almost there."

They came back much later then he'd anticipated. As if that wasn't enough, John opened the door for her – it – motioning to come in. Sitting at the kitchen table – the only piece of furniture in the house right now – Derek looked at them scowling. He could feel something was amiss. Just two days ago the machine tried to crush his head but the boy acted like nothing happened. Before they left there was still at least a certain uneasiness about him, now even that was gone. The soldier cursed under his breath.

"The furniture will be here in the afternoon." the boy said under his watchful gaze. "I'm not sure if you'll like the color, though."

"No problems with the toaster? She didn't try to rip your head off?", he asked sarcastically in reply, pointing his head at the cyborg.

John's face darkened slightly, but he didn't answer. Cameron, on the other hand, tilted her head in that irritating manner of hers and stared at him intensively. So intensively, in fact, that he felt his hands sweat.

"I didn't try.", she replied coming towards him and holding his eyes with those brown pools. "And do not objectify me. I have the right to knock your teeth out for that."

And then, she walked upstairs, auburn hair waving with each step, leaving behind a blinking Derek and John, grinning like a fool as he followed her with his eyes.

"What... the fuck... was that?", the soldier managed finally.

"Just the truth, Reese.", Connor answered, the idiotic grin never leaving his face. "Just honest truth."

Afterwrod:

Alright, that would be it for the first chapter. It starts kinda slow, hinting at some things, but i suppose that's how beginnings often are.

Personally, i've always found Sarkissians death to be a lot less accented in the series then it should have been. Sure, there were several episodes that dealt with it, but still, i think even Sarah's first victim and her anguish over it got more screentime.

And i belive something like that should shake a person heavily, esspecially if he's just an 16 year old boy, even with such a difficult past. All the more, if you consider rest of the things that happened to him that day.

I'm sorry for repeating some of the scenes from the series. It just felt like a perfect starting point.

Review away! Feedback is, as always, very welcomed.