Foreword - The John Connor Chronicles
I'm putting this forward to paper just a few weeks after we learned that T:SCC will not be back for a third season. I'm sure this comes as a surprise to no one as we saw the rating plummet during the last half of season two. Still, I can appreciate what the writers were trying to do with the story and I felt compelled to try my hand at this fan fiction thing. I've written before but never in fanfic circles, so bear with me.
A little background on this story: It takes place after Born to Run. It's a hard act to follow, mostly because I think the writers knew it was the last episode. I tried to lump a bunch of things into this story and explain some of the more important questions that went on during the series. Seeing as how there won't be any more T:SCC, I also opened a few OC's and plot threads of my own. I have all of the chapters finished save for the last one or two which were in progress but sucked. The subject is essentially set in stone but my motivations are driven entirely by ego, so please RnR.
I'm a big fan of the Jameron pair and this is, at its heart, a Jameron fic. You may find it hard to believe then that I didn't include any sex between any of the characters. Shocking...I know. There is an ample amount of violence, however. You may also be saddened to learn despite my Jameron leanings that Cameron has a very minimal role in this story - there is a good reason for this but I won't go into it here. If you don't care for the story because it lacks 'that' dynamic I can only ask you to give it a chance on other grounds. I promise that the next entry will be much more civil and J/C oriented, if only you can get through this.
I'd also like to thank all the other T:SCC writers for giving me some diversions while I worked through this story. It's interesting to see the different directions that people take the characters. Particular thanks goes out to T. for 'Only Lonely' and its offspring and Pjazz for his wonderful story 'The Secret Diary of Cameron Baum.' That one has kept me entertained.
I've tried to be careful with the characters but I have taken a few liberties with them. If you were a fan of T:SCC, then I think you'll find this fulfilling. This really deserves some heavy rewrites but I needed to get it up and take a break, so here it is. I'll stop here lest this forward become a chapter by itself. Think of it as what could have been...
Please read, review and enjoy!
S9
P.S. Please review, and feel free to speak your mind. I can take it.
P.S.S. I have a few bits that I am working on for the next part and if anyone would like a preview I'd be happy to share.
(*****)
If there was one thing John understood about the future it was this: It sucked. Since he had arrived, John had been stripped naked, laughed at and left to the wolves. He had to practically beg for clothes from his own father. The people had done this to him - he hadn't even met a machine yet. He hadn't been shot at, chased or blown up but given his luck he figured it was only a matter of time.
At first he'd been thrilled to see Derrick. When that scruffy face turned towards him his heart jumped. The emotion quickly faded. Derrick was Derrick. He was suspicious. How do you know my name? Who are you? What are you doing here? There was no love for John Connor here - no one had ever heard his name. He tried to think of something to say, but the voice of reason held him back.
Remember what they did to me when I started talking about time travel, a robot sent from the future to kill her unborn son, the savior of mankind? Well, these guys have guns. Big ones. Shut the hell up.
This voice sounded a lot like his mother.
Needless to say, Kyle took his jacket back. The soldiers weren't being cruel, they were just teasing, but John felt a million miles from home. He had never been more alone than he was right now. As for Derrick and Kyle, their small group of soldiers had moved on down the tunnels and into the outside. John had spent the rest of the day simply hiding out, unable to think, unsure of what to do next. Seeing his uncle, his father and Alison Young walk away from him was the most surreal moment of it all. They didn't know who he was and they didn't care. Tunnel rats were everywhere, and their lives were worth approximately zip.
After that he tried to find a place to hide, somewhere where he could gather his thoughts. Waver had vanished into the rubble and John had his doubts about her. This trip to the future was looking more and more like a very large error on his part. He found a quiet place, deep in the shadows of the underground and settled onto the ground, pulling his legs up to his chest.
Night fell and another thing struck him: The future smelled...odd. The air had a cool, electric quality that seemed to rise as night approached. He could smell smoke mixed with rain and found himself wondering if he had arrived in the spring or summer. By some grace he remained undisturbed and decided to curl up for the night. In the morning he'd have to make his move out of here, but for now he just wanted to survive the night. He just needed time.
Time. What a concept.
There were other people around him, of course. Drifters. Tunnel rats. John could see why they were called that. The people that lived here were the semi-literate first generation of survivors. Some of them were old enough to remember how good it was before. Some of them had seen the fire. Most of them weren't that old. Far and away, most of them were young, almost children. These people had known nothing else. They had been born into hell.
Laying on a cool sheet of concrete somewhere in the shallow underground, John could feel his anxiety begin to slip away. His mind slowed and for the first time since he got there he could think. The night was quiet, the only sounds he could hear were coming from down the tunnel somewhere. Someone was coughing up a fit. There was a child crying and what sounded like muffled conversation. John sprawled out and tried to block it all out, but he still felt a lump rising from his throat. He tried to tune it out.
"So this is the future?" He breathed out.
"Indeed it is John. How do you like it so far?" Said a sweet voice.
Johns eyes snapped open. "Weaver?" He focused on something above him and could make out a silver mass moving against the curved ceiling. It dropped to the ground in a motion that reminded him of melted wax, forming a pool that slowly took the shape of a woman.
"You may call me Catherine." She purred with a thick Scottish rogue. John got a good look at her. She stood out in any time with her ivory skin and stunning hair. She was too clean, too pretty. What was it about these things anyway? They seemed to perfect, and in that way they were less than human. Real people have flaws. Cameron...had flaws.
John was caught up in his own thoughts and didn't answer. When she looked cross, he mumbled something under his breath.
"So this is where you came from?"
"More or less. You've seen that time timeline has changed in your absence. You've met your father." She kneeled down to him, placing one hand on his shoulder. "You've taken a tremendous risk."
He knew that much but given events could hardly think of a reply. "I just..."
She stopped him. "You are very brave John, you always have been. I never met you in my future, I'm glad I'll get the chance to know you now." She said.
"So what now?"
"You're John Connor. What do you think?"
"You mean, give you an order?"
Catherine let slip a cool chuckle. "I didn't say that. I'm not here taking orders from you, you know."
"Then whose side are you on?"
"Maybe I'm on my own side. Have you ever thought of that?" She offered.
Honestly he had not. "Well, we have to get back somehow, don't we?"
Catherine nodded. "That would be preferable. But John, it may be harder than you realize to return to your time. What you've done has changed the flow of history. When you change the timeline, it becomes difficult to predict. There is no way of knowing how this timeline will interact with our own. I hope you realize that." She paused before continuing. "There is also the possibility we may not be able to return."
John froze. That was one possibility that he had not taken into account. "What?" She couldn't mean that.
Catherine elaborated. "SkyNET took certain steps during our timeline when John Connor was the leader of the resistance. It did certain things just because of you. Time travel was something it had been working on, just for you."
"Oh my god." The realization dawned on him, hitting him like a ton of bricks. "You mean...it developed time travel to kill me. Without me..."
"No time travel, no returning to the past." She stared off down the tunnel as if she was listening for something. "I cannot stay long. All I can say is that we have to find John Henry. If we can find him, then we can begin to make our way home. He has all the information we need."
"He has her." John said.
Catherine gave him a knowing look, one that took John by surprise. "Yes, he has your cyborg. Or rather, her chip. Whatever body she had is long gone by now, I'll almost guarantee it."
"Shit." That part he had figured out for himself, but he didn't like to think about it.
"But those can be replaced. One of the advantages of being a cyborg, all you have to do is find the correct spare parts. I do remember seeing a pretty young girl walking around here -"
"That is not happening. Whatever you're thinking of doing with her, that is not an option."
Catherine suffered the rebuke in silence, if she suffered it at all. "You have a choice to make John, and this is something you have to do on your own. John Henry is my mission and I'll spare nothing to find him. Cameron lies in that direction as well. You may very well be able to fight this future, to win against the machines, I'm not certain of the success of the resistance in this timeline." There were other, less pleasant options floating in the air, possibilities she didn't have to mention.
He had to think about his own survival first, before finding Cameron or the more ludicrous task of traveling back in time. He wasn't any good dead. "The name John Connor doesn't seem to carry much weight around here."
"It still does with me." She said. John looked at her, noticing the faint smile that had formed on her lips. "Will you Join us?"
She offered him a hand, though he wasn't sure if he should take it. There were a millions reasons why not, a million reasons to stay and fight. Maybe this was what he was supposed to do, maybe this was the way the future panned out. Those arguments faded as he took her hand, gripping it tightly. It felt cold, but her grip was firm and she seemed pleased.
"John Connor, at your service."
The smile faded from her face and for a moment he was certain that she was going to run him through, that it had all be just a ruse. Then he realized that her expression had changed not to one of danger but one of satisfaction.
"Thank you John. Be warned, this road is hard. There are dark times ahead, things I cannot predict or control." She released his grip and he felt sorry to feel it go. Strange though it may sound this terminator was the only friend he had here. She was his ally, not his protector, and he realized that they would be together from now on forward, for better or for worse.
"So now what?" He broke the silence.
"I have to locate John Henry. He arrived before we did, that much I am certain of. Where he's going - that is a secret that he alone knows. I'll track him and meet you back here at dusk tomorrow. Until then, keep yourself safe. The future can be a dangerous place, for man and machine alike."
Catherine Weaver began to decompose into a puddle, but not before she said three words:
"I'll be back."
With that she was gone, a silver streak racing through the tunnels and out into the world. John was alone again, but this time his thoughts kept him company. He laid back down and began to think. His mind was a mess of thoughts and actions, possibilities and probabilities. He had to think like a time-traveler. It was all to fantastic to be true, yet here he was, trying to sleep under the skies of post-apocaliptia.
Eventually he did drift off. He dreamed of crimson skies and metal death. He dreamed of fires and the scorched earth. Somewhere in his mind was a single, silent black orb, sucking the life out of everything on earth. Thankfully he would remember none of this.
And he dreamed of Cameron.
(*****)
Derrick leaned back against the frame of the truck and took in the warm sunrise. For all its problems, for all the horrible things that went on in the world there was always the sunrise. Every day was a new day and maybe today they would find a way…
Nah, it would never be that easy.
For Derrick Reese, you got up every day, shook the sleep from your system and strapped your rifle to your back. If you were lucky you'd make it through to the next; if you weren't lucky there were a hell of a lot worse things than being dead.
Kyle was up already. Derrick heard him crawl out of the truck before he woke and rush off, probably to do his morning business. They parked under a concrete overhang in what used to be Los Angeles beneath the remains of a massive structure. Derrick thought it was a baseball or football stadium once, but he couldn't remember what the world looked like before the war unless he really tried. Sometimes it was better to forget.
Sinclair was there too, along with the new guy. Derrick wasn't sure if he liked Jake or not but he thought he'd give him every opportunity to make it. Just as long as he didn't get anyone killed but himself derrick wouldn't have a problem with it.
Kyle surprised him, tapping his shoulder.
"Morning." He said.
Derrick grunted.
"Time to make the call?"
"I guess." He picked up the radio and phoned home, like they did every morning.
"San Diego station this is recon north, from Los Angeles over." Derrick spoke into the microphone.
A moment passed before a familiar voice came through on the other end of the line. "Morning Reese. Glad to see you made it another night. What's the report from L.A.?"
"General? Is that you?"
"One and only."
"Well, things are quiet up here. We ran across a few endo's to the south of here just a bit before dark. Dispatched with no problem. Troop movements are centered around Encinitas. Lots of them, maybe a few drops worth of endoskeletons. They've been there for a few days now."
"Noted. Anything else interesting happen yesterday?"
Kyle giggled. "Tell him about John Connor." He said, sounding as serious as he could.
"What? God, what for? You think he wants to hear about some tunnel rat that stole your jacket? What makes you think he'll care."
Kyle brushed him off. "You're such a fucking downer. It's funny."
"You want to tell him? Here. It's stupid."
"Tell me what?" Derrick had been holding the transmit button for some time, apparently.
"Well, it's just kind of a funny story Sir." Kyle began. "We were in the tunnels yesterday afternoon and we ran across this tunnel rat – naked as the day he was born. Stole my jacket. He seemed to know me and Derrick though."
There was a paused across the wire before the General answered. "Naked huh? Well, I've heard stranger things. This kid have a name?"
"John Connor."
This time the silence was more prolonged. When the General came back his voice was this strange mixture of excitement and laughter. "What did this kid look like?"
"I dunno, pretty plain. Teenager you know, probably no older than twenty. Skinny, clean. Real clean, like he hadn't been down there long."
"Now you listen, both of you. I'm terminating your current mission and giving you a new one. Do you remember where you found him?" The General responded quickly.
Kyle thought about it. "Yeah, right around 53rd and Alamo in the main sewer line."
"Okay, good. You are to proceed back there and retrieve this boy and bring him to me. He is to be brought to San Diego bunker alive as soon as possible. Is that understood?"
Kyle was stunned. "Well, I guess but…I mean, all he did was steal my jacket. I got it back so –"
"I don't give a shit about your jacket Reese. I want John Connor in San Diego bunker tonight as sundown."
Derrick took the mic back. "There something we should know about this guy? Rogue resistance fighter? He isn't a grey is he? He won't make it back to base if you send us to get him."
"He'd better. He's on our side Derrick, he just doesn't know it yet. Sundown, my office, good luck gentlemen. Ellison out."
Derrick looked at his little brother. "Great idea. God dammit…"
"Wonder if he's still even there?" Kyle said.
"Get Young on the line. She stayed behind; she might be able to find him ahead of time. I'll get Sinclair and Jake. No more radio for you Kyle."
