If somebody believes that I own Terminator The Sarah Connor Chronicles or it's characters s/he may raise my hand.
The nightmares were tormenting him again, that was obvious. The cold sweat that drenched the pillows, the trashing and moaning were unmistakable. John Connor was once again haunted by the faces of those that had died for him and his great cause. In any other night feeling the warm body of his wife snuggling close to him or her hand softly caressing his face would have been enough to calm him down immediately without ever waking up.
But for three successive nights Cameron Connor had not dared to touch her husband. Since the day they had knowingly walked into a trap during a raid on a hunter-killer factory.
Oh, they had fought their way out of it and her hated creator had been caught in his own web.
SkyNet had once again gravely underestimated TechCom and the Connors. In the end they had not only terminated all the machines that had been lying in ambush but also gained control over the factory itself. A virus, created by John Henry and downloaded into the factory's control system by Cameron, stopped the self destruction mechanism installed by the insane AI from blowing both the base and John and Cameron Connor to hell.
The enemy had tried to goad them into attacking the largest drone factory in Texas for quite a while, had practically dangled the installation before their noses. So they had given him what he wanted and more.
When the fog cleared TechCom was in complete control of the massive plant that would continue to create modified HKs for the resistance to use against SkyNet and its armies.
But during the fight one of the enemy terminators had managed to set off one of the bombs manually in a final attempt to kill John or at least making as much of the factory useless to the resistance as possible. Cameron had saved him, as she always did, but she paid a price for it.
Not long ago she would not cared for the loss of her organic tissue nearly as much but she had started enjoying the sense impressions it made it had gifted her with more and more. When the fire burned away her synthetic flesh with all it's blood vessels and nerve endings Cameron had lost more than just the ability play the role the role of a human being.
When she had been created her organic parts had only been a disguise a tool helping with infiltration but it slowly became an integral part of who and what she was. There were big things and small things that she missed.
Big things like making love to John of course and small ones like sticking out her tongue at him when she was annoyed. Though Cameron did not have an actual sex drive like human woman's she nevertheless greatly enjoyed the closeness and intimacy and of course she enjoyed the fact that John enjoyed it.
But there also were other things. She had found pleasure in the way the way her nerves registered different levels of temperature and moisture. She liked the way her skin created goosebumps when the air was cold. She liked the many different ways her human face allowed her to express the wealth of her ever developing emotions. Emotions no longer reserved just for her John but also for the growing circle of other persons important to her like John Henry, Sarah Connor and Savannah Weaver.
Cameron looked down on the cold, gleaming metal of her hands. John moaned again, the nightmare was getting worse. John Henry was doing research, looking for a way to create a new skin for her but it was not easy. Restoring her former appearance would be impossible anyway, at least without a DNA donation from Allison Young.
And Allison Young was a prisoner of the Century concentration Camp at the moment. John fully intended on freeing her and the other prisoners but the mission to storm the camp was in it's early planning stages. In about five weeks time they would attack and perhaps manage to get Allison out alive, if she was not dead and cremated by then.
That time span seemed like an eternity to Cameron. She knew it was egoistical to think about solving her personal problems first and about everything else later. Her dear friend John Henry, who had acted as something of a mentor helping her understand the intricacies of morality (and earning the nickname Preacherbot from Derek Reese for his efforts), would probably be disappointed. It was not like the humans suffering in Century meant nothing to her, on the contrary she had learned to value human life and not just for strategic reasons. Her growing circle of human friends had seen to that.
But was it really all that selfish anyway? The fact that her body had been reduced to it's basic endoskeleton form had reduced her abilities to help her John fight the demons that threatened to consume his mind. Without a good night's rest John's ability to fulfill his role as supreme commander would be suboptimal, especially if it became a repeating occurrence. He would become chronically exhausted which could lead to mistakes and losses, leading to more heartache and depression.
Deep down there was a part of John Connor's mind that desired the eternal peace of death, desired to be finally relieved from the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. Cameron had known that for years, since the first suspicious gun "accident" she had witnessed.
His strong sense of duty, his loyalty to those loyal to him and more than everything else his love for his cyborg wife had been enough and more than enough to outbalance his buried self destructive tendencies but they were not completely gone. They would remain a part of his psyche at least until the war was finally over and perhaps they would never disappear.
John Connor had been through much loss, too much pain throughout his entire life. The burden forced onto him from such a young age was just too heavy and it was eating him from the inside out. Most people thought General Connor was a cold, brilliantly calculating bastard, almost as unfeeling as a machine. They followed him, respected and admired him, quite a few worshipped him like a god but most of his soldier were of the opinion that it was not easy to "like" John Connor. Of course John himself preferred it that way and was careful to keep a distance from his underlings. The image of John Connor, the messiah and living legend, was itself a weapon in this war.
But Cameron knew that the heart under the facade was quite vulnerable and sensitive. She knew about human psychology and she knew her John, his soul was damaged in a way that perhaps would never heal. Even her love could not completely undo it but she could damn well prevent it from getting worse.
At the moment she wanted nothing more than to take him into her arms and hold him but both her strictly rational and her growing emotional side warned her. In all probability she would just do more harm.
Of course John had told her that his love for her was not the least bit affected by her current state, that nothing had or would ever change. He even insisted she continue sharing his or rather their bed as they always did when not separated by mission. "I'll be damned before I drive my wife from our own bed because she has a small skin problem!" he had said. His jokes had never been very funny.
Cameron had not expected less from him and she knew he was not lying, at least not to her. But would not being pressed against her cold, hard metal body make everything worse?
Was he not fooling himself when he thought that he did not care that her naked coltan skull and her glowing, inhuman eyes would be the first things he saw upon opening his eyes? Would he not automatically try to escape from her in his sleep when the subconscious ruled and the reflexes his mother had trained into him kicked in? Would she not by her cold touch conjure the very nightmares she hoped to soothe?
"Cameron, where are you. Cameron, please, stay with me!" He was calling for her in his sleep. Over the last years he had grown from a boy to man, a battle hardened veteran marked by the scars of many close brushes with death. Now he suddenly looked very young again, young and frightened. She wanted to cry but that was not possible anymore.
The cyborg had to use all her willpower to fight the impulse to go over to him and softly stroke his hair. Perhaps her voice would suffice.
"John, I am here. I am with you as I always am." she whispered softly, kneeling by the bedside. If this didn't work she would have no choice but to wake him up and hope that he would quickly fall asleep again.
"Cameron, I can't see you, don't leave." The despair in his voice broke her metaphorical heart.
"I am right beside you John. I will never leave you." He seemed to calm down a bit. "I will always protect you, my John." He stopped trashing.
John continued talking in his sleep but it was less articulate now, not much more than a soft murmur. "Don't care Cam. You'll be always be beautiful to me. Always. Love you, my silver angel."
A new powerful impulse took possession of her chip. Cameron wanted to banish the thought, it was the epitome of egoism. It was perverse. He had finally calmed down, there was no reason for stupid experiments, no reason to invite the nightmares to return. She would only destroy her small success.
Cameron had always placed his needs far above her own and rightfully so. Her John had even sometimes chided her for it, had told her to take her own wishes more seriously, to stand up for herself even to him. She had promised him to do so but that had once again been for his sake, knowing he wanted to hear it.
Now she wanted, no, she needed to know. Could it really be that he didn't care? Now, that all the defenses of the waking consciousness were down?
Cameron knew she would never be able to forgive herself when her worst fears came true but she also knew that she would always remember this night and be haunted by the unanswered question if she didn't try.
"It is every human beings' and cybernetic organism's God-given right to be selfish from time to time. So be a little selfish, Cam." he had said. She smiled when she remembered his voice. She didn't believe in God but she certainly believed in him. Her John had never given her bad advice.
Without allowing herself any more time for doubt she acted. She carefully, ever so softly touched his cheek with her cool metal hand.
"I love you John Connor, my husband."
He smiled and she ran her fingers through his sweat slicked hair.
"Love you too, Cam." her murmured so softly that a human wouldn't be able to understand.
Cameron didn't believe in any kind of god. In fact she had debated this question many times with John Henry. She herself defending an atheist position, John Henry arguing for something that could probably best described as a form of Deism. They had respectfully agreed to disagree. Now for the first time she was almost able to believe.
A flood of unbelievable gratitude and relief washed over her and as she had no god to thank, she thanked the individual whose place in her mind and heart (metaphorical) not even a god could ever hope to usurp.
"Thank you, my John."
Author's note: Since we never actually got to see Cameron's endoskeleton I imagine it to look similar to the TX in Terminator 3.
A sleeker, more feminine body and a slightly less skull-like, a bit more expressive face. After all TX is the only "female" Terminator we ever see in any of the movies and the only one with blue eyes like our Cam.
PS: I know this is not the right place but here it goes: Perhaps you know that hedge fund Pacificor has sold the rights to the terminator franchise to new owner that is more willing to actually do something with it. Or at least they sold the right to make two new terminator movies to Annapurna Films, the company of billionaire heiress and film maker Megan Ellison.
Nobody ever mention SCC of course, but it is still of concern to us. It means that for the first in years there is some movement concerning the franchise and the fact that Megan Ellison is paying good money for it and wants to give it a try, despite the fact that the last two movies not exactly fulfilled expectations, could be a good sign. As long long as there is still some fight left in this old warhorse, their is still some chance.
Perhaps now would be a good time to rally those of us that still carry the torch, reactivate old resistance cells and remind the PTB that we are still out there. Think about it, making at least a "straigth to DVD" Movie would of course not bring the tons of money a succesful blockbuster could make but it certainly could make a good, solid profit. Not only that, it would do so at only a fraction of the risk.
The Terminator SCC movie would of course be much cheaper to produce and we could perhaps send e-mails to Annapurna Films or Pacificor or both, just to remind them of the fact that we are still here and willing to pay to see a SCC movie (or three, of course). This way they at least know that there is a possibility of making quite a nice, relatively easy, relatively secure profit. So we could check out whatever Terminator SCC fan sites or forums remain and are not completely dead and see if somebody wants to organize a new petition or something.