Disclaimer: Really don't own Terminator or anything related to it.

This was supposed to have some sort of continuation, but at the moment it's a oneshot. Some John/Cam fics really bother me with the way they make her so very, very human. Then again I really like the idea of John and Cameron and it's difficult to write that without giving her some sort of humanity. So of course I had to try my hand at a John/Cam fic. Well ficlet. So this was just a scene that got stuck in my head and needed to be written.

This is set at some random time during the first season, because I haven't seen anything other than the first season.


Suddenly she pulls him into an alley. Dark and dirty and quiet. Her hands grasping his shirt.

It comes as a complete surprise. Later, when he has time to think he'll blame it on the surprise. He'll tell himself he was simply too surprised to say no, to protest in any way.

Her lips on his. Relentless. But soft and human. Her hand tugs at his fly and she's quick and efficient as always. Cool hand against his own heated flesh and something is screaming in the back of his head. "Metal" it yells, "machine". It sounds a bit like his uncle. Madness and anger and fear. But he can barely hear it past the blood roaring in his ears.

The brick wall against his back is cold and hard. Her skin feels cool against his own. Her movements are precise, mechanical and it doesn't matter at all. He pulls his head back and gasps for breath.

The brick wall against his back is hard. She is unyielding, relentless. Does not stop. Never stops and he gasps and moans and clutches at her. There's a strangled yell and it can only be him because she doesn't make a sound.

Her movement stops and she releases his now softened flesh. Tucks it back in like nothing at all happened. He pants and lets his forehead fall against her shoulder. He wraps his arms around her still and rigid form.

"This pleases you?" She asks curiously, innocently, mechanically.

He feels like crying suddenly. And so he laughs, muffled and quiet chuckles against an unmoving shoulder. Because this is his life.