Disclaimer - Not mine.

John strode up to Cameron and grabbed her arm, tugging her toward the door. "Come on, Cam."

She resisted. "My name is Allison. Allison Young, from Palmdale."

"What? Palmdale? No, you're from the future," he hissed. "Come on!"

"Who are you?" she asked.

A blonde girl appeared from nowhere and asked, "What's going on here?"

"I'm her brother. John, John Baum."

"I don't have a brother."

"Yes, you do, I'm your brother, Ally. Come on, mom's worried. If we hurry we can get to Palmdale by dinner."

"Palmdale?"

"Yes, let's go."

There was confusion in her eyes but she acquiesced, looking back a moment at the girl as he tugged her out the door and toward the truck.

~*~

Cam sat still in the truck, starting at the house with an unreadable expression on her face. John walked around and opened the door, helping her out; she hesitated and he wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her up the steps and into the front door.

"This isn't Palmdale," she cried. "I want to go home!"

"Palmdale's a long way. We need to stop here so I can pick up something," he said.

He watched as she stared about with fear in her eyes - but machines couldn't have fear in their eyes…

"What are you?" he murmured.

She looked at him curiously and he shook his head.

"Hey, what's that?" he asked.

"What?"

"Something on your head, did you get hurt?"

Her hand rose to her scalp. "Here," he murmured. "Let me see."

She held still as he moved behind her and his fingers began parting her hair as his other hand reached in his back pocket and pulled out a knife.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure. Did you hit your head on anything?" John put the knife blade against her scalp and began to cut, praying that this would work.

"I don't know… I can't remember."

"What do you remember?"

"I was in the grocery store. People were shining lights in my eyes and I couldn't remember anything."

John finished the semi-circle cut and pulled her scalp back.

"What are you doing?" she asked, voice raising an octave.

"Just seeing if we need to take you to the hospital or call mom," he replied, pocketing the knife and yanking the drawer open on the foyer table so he could pull out a screwdriver. She tried to turn and he stopped her with, "Hold still! This looks really bad."

She complied and he slid the screwdriver under the edge of the cover and popped it off. He was reaching for her chip when she spun away throwing him back into the wall - he hit hard, the breath rushing from his lungs.

"What are you doing?" she screeched, hand flying to her head. "Oh god, what did you do?"

Derek emerged from the kitchen at the commotion and drew his gun, holding it carefully at his side.

"John, what's going on?" he asked, studying the cyborg with narrowed eyes.

Cam's head snapped up and pure shock bloomed across her all too human face. "Derek?" she whispered. Her hand rose and covered her mouth as her eyes grew impossibly wide - both men stared at her with identical expressions of uncertainty marring their features.

She walked toward him slowly and methodically, eyes never leaving his face. His stance subtly changed into a defensive position and he flipped the gun around in his hand - if he shot her now there was a risk of the bullet going through the wall and hitting someone out on the street.

"John…" he said, voice clearly issuing a warning.

"Cam, come on, what are you doing?" John interjected, moving toward the girl.

"Derek, it's me, Allison."

His jaw clenched and suddenly there was murder in his eyes. "Shut up."

"Derek, please, I've missed you," she whispered.

Derek's eyes closed as misery and rage fought for domination on his features.

She stopped scarcely three feet away and reached out, brushing her fingertips along his arm.

The rage won out and before John could lunge between them he swung his arm back and brought the butt of the gun crashing down across her cheek. A small cry left her as the force of the blow sent her crashing to the ground.

John strode forward and grabbed Derek around the throat slamming him against the wall. He wrenched the gun from Derek's hand and struck him across the temple, much as he had just witnessed. Derek's hands came up and he shoved at John, who stumbled back a step before dropping the gun and slamming a fist into Derek's jaw. John suddenly found himself flung backwards and stared on, breathing heavily, as Cam approached Derek once more.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, brushing her fingertips, feather light, across the bruising already blooming along his cheek. The fight seemed to have gone out of him and he stared on in a slightly bewildered way, hands hanging limp at his sides. "Derek?" she murmured, stepping closer and gazing into his eyes.

"Allison. Is. Dead," he choked out through gritted teeth.

"No! I'm right here, Derek, right here."

"Stop this, please," he sighed, eyes closing.

"Cam…" John started again.

She whirled and he took in the bruising and swelling that had already appeared on her pale skin. "I'm not Cam, I'm Allison, Allison Young! From Palmdale."

John watched rather helplessly as she turned back to Derek, cupping his face in one hand.

"You're dead. They killed you. They took you. They are you."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I'm right here, Derek, right here. I love you."

She leaned in and pressed her lips to Derek's, wrapping her arms around his neck. Derek wrapped an arm around her waist, tangling one hand in her hair, and returned the kiss hesitantly. His fingers rubbed against her scalp in rhythmic circles and he pulled her closer with the arm around her waist, deepening the kiss and effectively distracting her. Finally, his fingers found what they were searching for and in one swift movement he had pinched the edge of the chip between his fingers, twisted, and wrenched it from her head.

He heard a slight intake of breath as her system shut down and she went limp in his arms; he dropped his arm from her waist and she crumpled to the ground. Derek stepped away from her and spun, throwing a fist into the wall before leaning his forehead against it dejectedly. The man felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Derek?" John asked hesitantly.

"What the hell was that?" he choked out, shaking slightly.

"I don't know."

His fist slipped from the wall, knuckles tingling where they had made contact, and he unclenched his fingers, letting the damnable chip clatter to the hardwood floor. He knew, even as he did it, that John would pick it up, would tinker with it, and would bring the metal bitch back. What he did not know was if it would be her or Allison that would be there the next time those brown eyes opened. What he did not know was if he would be able to handle that again. He stood straight and turned, heading for the kitchen to find his shotgun.