Hey guys…or girls…or robots…This here is my very first attempt at Terminator fanfic and I think that I'm just not quite getting it right, so I hope you enjoy the story for what it is, but don't feel bad about correcting me if I've gotten some fact wrong or made up some crazy technical thing that somehow contradicts the show. But I do ask that you do it respectfully. I'm not stupid, there's no need to imply in a review that I am. However, I don't know everything and I'd be downright ecstatic if you'd share your wealth of knowledge with me :). But then it wouldn't hurt if you also told me I'm a positively smashing author despite my little mess ups ;).
"Get Cameron," General John Connor barked at the young man standing next to him. The man scurried off, darting through people and debris to complete his command. As soon as he was out of sight, John let his shoulders slump. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair out of habit. It had been years since his bangs had obstructed his view.
"It's time, Cameron. It's time," he muttered under his breath.
The boy returned several minutes later, the recently reprogrammed cyborg obediently following behind him. John could tell the boy, Jacobs, was his name, was uncomfortable having the terminator at his back, but didn't want to show his commanding officer this weakness. Everyone knew that John Connor had an inexplicable and unfailing faith in reprogramming terminators. A few of them even knew about the terminators he'd secretly tried his hand at building himself.
John, however, while proud that his men were willing to obey him so fully and to portray such strength of character, was disappointed that the men were so abhorred by the concept of weakness. Sometimes weakness was exactly what you needed. Sometimes, weakness saves the world.
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"John Connor I am ready to be programmed for my mission," the stoic brunette informed the commander.
They were in John's tent—alone-- despite the protestations of his men. John was lounging behind a make shift desk in an old computer chair.
"Cameron, you will not be programmed for this mission," John informed the terminator, causing her to tilt her head in question; "You will not be programmed because you already know what to do."
John really hoped this would work, it had to work! He remembers her coming to him. What he doesn't remember, is the sending her part. He doesn't remember how he kept her so human, because technically speaking he hasn't done it yet…again?
John got up and walked around the desk to Cameron, cupping her face in his hands. She looked up at him—curiosity sneaking in to her practically immobile features. They stared at each other for several moments, John's breathing had become fast and shallow; Cameron's automatic breathing function had ceased working altogether. The electricity in the air between them was literally heightened as several of Cameron's other functions, one of which being her core body temperature regulator, began to overcompensate.
"Goodbye, Cam. I'll see you soon," he whispered, before leaning down and closing the last bit of space between them with an urgent-- almost violent in its passion-- kiss.
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It was between trying to kill John Connor and trying to save herself from John Connor that Cameron remembered. And she remembered with such fierceness that it wasn't the crushing force of the two trucks slamming into her or the damage done to her chip from the car bomb that caused her moment of weakness, it was the memory that caused the nearly indestructible cyborg to break.
"I love you! I love you, please! I love you John and you love me!" she shouted, and then she remembered nothing at all.
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John stared at Cameron's completely still body. He shouldn't be unnerved by its stillness; Cameron spent much of her time completely still. But this was a different kind of motionless. Because it wasn't just her chip that was missing from her body, it was her soul. And it wasn't a robot body John was staring at, it was a human body. But human or robot or alien or whatever Cameron was, John suddenly realized he couldn't live without her. And it was in this moment of epiphany that he came to the most horrifying realization yet. If they won—if he won—and Skynet never came to be, neither would she. If he lost her now, he could continue fighting because there would be no risk of losing her later. But was he willing to lose her now?
In his moment of weakness where he was ironically the one with all the power, John chose not to light this particular funeral pyre. He would never light this terminator's funeral pyre, and so as he twisted her CPU chip back into place he began to plan. Plan for the day when HE would need to build her, not the soon to be non-existent Skynet, because he had a feeling in the future he would need her just as much as he does now. Maybe he wasn't weak, maybe he was just selfish.
Now go ahead, pretend you're John Connor and pushing that review button will save the world. You know you want to. (Note to reader: it would be greatly appreciated if AFTER you push the submit review button, you fill out the little form that pops up. Pushing buttons is fun, but more often than not the buttons have an actual purpose beyond sitting there and being all tempting :))