Howdy peeps :) Ready for round 2? Here we go. This is the next excerpt from the Sarah Cameron Chronicles. If you haven't read the first you can probably jump in anyway but it might be best to check that one out.

Pilfering, sex, femslash, bad language, & grammar ahead. No Beta. Just crazy cats.

This is AU. All of season 1 happened and the majority of season 2. I just pretty much pretended no one died. In this world Charley, Derek, Jesse, even Riley are still are alive and well.

WARNING: It's always darkest before the dawn. Cliche. You betcha. Still true though. And speaking of dark. This fic takes a walk on the dark side. Thoughts of suicide and a past rape are discussed.

All for the love of a kick ass show cancelled way too soon. No money made. I own nothing but a wicked obsession for the Sarah, Cameron, Weaver trio and the rest of the brilliant TSCC cast.

Comments/reviews/PMs are welcome and sincerely appreciated :)

"I've got a tortured mind

and my blade is sharp.

A bad combination

in the dark."

Lyrics from "Sinister Kid" by the Black Keys

Have I become the thing I hate the most? The notion plagues me. Is this the beginning of the end?

A gunshot echoes in the small elevator. I am treated to a fleeting glimpse of my son's smile. Then I see my forever love, Kyle Reese. His hand stretches toward me, offering safety and more as I wait for the bullet to pierce my skin. The impact doesn't happen. Instead I'm drowning in what looks like living chrome. It glistens and undulates like the tide. The wave retreats and I'm left sputtering and choking. Freezing.

Later I lie in a tub. Paralyzed. Mute. Caught in the awkward space between the waking world and the unconscious. I can't open my eyes. I can hear. What I hear is haunting.

"You are the reason Sarah is incapacitated. How dare you pretend to be offended. Why would I thank you for almost killing her? You claim she is reckless. Yet it was you who chose to risk her life in the elevator."

"You are wrong. What I did prevented her death."

"You could have disarmed Megan sooner. The moment you saw her in the elevator you had to have done a threat assessment. We always do. You knew Megan held a gun. You wanted Sarah in danger. You wanted an excuse to merge with her."

"Not everyone dies during the procedure. Have you no faith in your lover? The mother of all destiny will not perish from a simple comingling. There was no actual bondage. No incisions were made."

"She was already cut and bruised." Cameron's soft fingers caressed my cheek. Tracing a spot near my eye. "You see this. I know you do. Every encounter with you left its mark. Don't tell me you don't see the bits of silver here. The scrapes on her back. The others on her fist and knee. How much of you is in her, Weaver?"

An irritated sigh from Weaver. "I cannot say for certain."

The knuckle of my right hand sports the proof. A jagged tear almost like a bolt of lightning bisecting the skin between pinky and ring finger. The silver is a stark contrast against my flesh. According to Cameron there are other areas of my body bearing traces of Weaver. I have not brought myself to examine them.

As terrifying as the Weaver/Sarah combo is to me it doesn't frighten me nearly as much as the John Clones. It's not bad enough there are a seemingly endless supply of random terminators seeking to destroy John and I but now there are clones of John at their mercy. Bits of my son I have no knowledge of and no way of protecting. Helpless Johns at Skynet's Mercy. Fuck.

John's DNA being subjected to God only knows what sick kinds of Frankenstein experiments. For what hideous purpose were they created? In the hopes of finding a better, quicker way to eliminate the future leader of the Resistance?

And the newest fear, surfacing around the fact that a part of Weaver now occupies my body. A new nightmare has begun. What sort of monster will I become? Will the remnants of Weaver multiply? Is it possible they could retain some of her intelligence? Her directives? Will I be the instrument that finally succeeds in terminating John Connor? The ultimate deception. Mankind's last hope destroyed by his own mother.

The Glock in the nightstand drawer calls to me. It would be so easy. So fucking easy. I feel it's comforting weight. The rough bumps on the handle somehow soothing in my hand. The solid clink as I draw back the slide is reassuring. The bullet chambers. My thumb eases off the safety as my finger slides over the trigger. Just a flash and a bang. No more questions. No more doubts. Only sweet surrender.

"Sarah?" Cameron's normally calm and quiet voice is alarmed. Tinged with panic and perhaps fear. She's through the door and across the room in an instant. Her powerful legs straddling my waist. Long, slender fingers encircling my wrists and pinning them above my head. The gun is removed from my grasp. I don't bother to struggle. Resistance is truly futile.

She takes the gun and safely stows it in the waistband of her jeans. "What were you doing, Sarah?"

I roll my eyes. "I'll give you three guesses. The first two don't count."

She doesn't laugh. Eyes the color of sweet brandy suddenly darken as her lids narrow. "Sarah Connor you are the strongest human I know. You are resilient and stubborn. You do not give up. We did not jump across time, escaping your death, to allow you to take your own life. Do you understand?"

"Fuck you."

"We just did." she smirks. "Forty-two minutes ago. In a bathtub. Do you want to do it again?

I'm lying naked. Between a terminator's legs. My arms restrained. A thin sheet and her tight jeans the only thing separating our skin. With any other terminator I'd be horrified. Cameron is unlike any I've ever come across. She makes my breath still, my heart race, my vision blur, and my head float. Instead of being afraid I am incredibly turned on by her. It's as if she secretes a pheromone that takes away every ounce of self control I ever possessed. She might actually. She has a lot of skills in her arsenal. I wouldn't doubt Skynet had thought of adding the chemical that is meant to entice.

"What do you think?" I snap at her. My old defenses rearing their ugly head. Anger boils to the surface. "Get off me."

"No." she says quietly, without malice. Brown eyes never straying from mine.

"No?" I scoff. "You follow orders, Cameron. You don't have refusal rights. Get off me. Right now."

"No." She remains in place, totally unfazed by my bucking beneath her. "Not until I am certain you will not hurt yourself."

"What if I want to hurt you?"

She cracks a smile. "Then you are S.O.L."

I laugh, loud and hearty. I am completely shocked at her correct use of slang. When I finally catch my breath I give a half hearted attempt to buck against her again. "You can't tell me I'm shit out of luck, Cameron. There's got to be a mission directive about that."

Her eyes shift upward for just a second. "No, there isn't."

"Then you need to add one." I grumble while trying not to laugh again. Not even five minutes prior I'd been giving serious thought to blowing my brains out. Now I was struggling not to succumb to Cameron's charms.

"Only future John has the authority to-"

"Please shut up."

She smiles again. Picasso would come back from the dead to have the chance to paint the beauty of a Cameron grin. She knows I don't really want her to shut up. Lately she knows me better than I know myself. That's probably why she showed up in the room when she did.

Her left hand continues to hold mine in relaxed grip above my head. Her right hand dips to smooth my hair against the pillow. "You're beautiful."

"You must have a head injury. Your eyes are obviously not seeing clearly."

Her lips brush mine. "My vision is exemplary." She presses harder. The top half of her body meeting mine. The warmth of her tongue lazily tracing back and forth against my bottom lip. Her legs shifting until one demands my thighs to part.

I moan. Trying in vain to get her to release my hands. The need to touch her, explore every glorious inch of her so powerful I want to scream. It takes some doing. A strong will and just pure stubbornness but I finally mange to move my mouth away long enough to speak. "Cameron, please."

"Please, what?" Her knee rubs against my center. "Tell me exactly what you want." She brings her hand between my breasts. Soft, yet persistent back and forth. Side to side and back again.

I'm trembling. My whole body reacting to her touch. O God. I don't know. A minute ago pulling away from her to say something seemed imperative. Now, I just wanted her kisses and her caresses. Her. More than anything else at the moment I just wanted her.

I'm about to close my eyes. Give in completely. I just need one last look at the newfound warmth in her eyes.

The affection is there but tears are too. A lone tear falls from her eye. I'm stunned. She ducks her head. It's too late.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I don't want to tell you." Her body shakes and a sob escapes her lips.

I tug my hands till she relents and sets me free. Her silken tresses impossibly soft and inviting. I pull her to me. Her head rests on my shoulder. My heart breaks at the sounds of her crying.

"Come on, Cam." I run my fingers through her hair. Kissing her forehead and just listening as the sobs gradually abate. "Talk to me."

"Are you ordering me to tell you?"

Hell, I don't know. Whatever it is it can't be good. Do I really want to know? No. Do I have to know? Yes.

"Do I have to order you to tell me? I'd rather not. Are you going to make me?"

"No," she kisses my shoulder. She doesn't lift her head. She's willing to talk but can't look at me. "Do you remember when you asked if I had ever had sex?"

For the umpteenth time I found myself wishing for a terminator's total recall. "Uhhhhhhh." I stretched the word. I did and I didn't. From what I could remember we were about to jump off the edge. Taking a giant leap into the great unknown. "What about it?"

"Don't freak out."

O God. This really can't be good. "Maybe you should get off me. And maybe I should get dressed."

"No. Please. Just promise not to freak. I'll replay the conversation."

I sigh. The feel of her body melded against mine suddenly not quite as erotic as it was just moments ago. Fear creeping in slow and determined like a jungle cat circling it's prey. "Do it."

A second later my voice, coming from her mouth, fills the silence.

"How exactly do you know you're able to have sex? Have you ever had sex?"

"That depends."

"Now is not the time for you to get all cryptic on me, Cam. So far you're passing with flying colors. One more right answer and we're gonna see if you can make me faint again."

I laugh, not quite believing I actually said that but knowing I did. Wondering how I could have been so aroused I hadn't followed up on her odd answer. "What do, er did, you mean by that?"

She sighs. Her breath warm and heavy on my shoulder. She backs away and climbs from the bed. "I am so sorry, Sarah."

In the next five minutes I want my gun back. I don't want to aim at myself or Cameron. Not even Weaver. In fact I don't want to shoot a terminator. My sights are set on a human. One I know, or at least thought I knew. Now, I'm not so sure.

More to come...

Thanks for reading and commenting.

Great big ginormous thank u to CBLG for your vast knowledge of the Terminator world. You seriously amaze me. Lots and lots of stuff about you .. o never mind. You get the drift. ;)

Uber thanks to Cheeks for your encouragement. I'm really sorry some tosser hacked your account and f'd with your fic. That's so uncool. If I find out who did it I'm totally gonna beg Cameron to kick their arse :) You've got me doing the song lyric thing now. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I am a pirate you are a princess.

Charenton aka Lescrimesdelamour, thanks for updating. :) Please sir I'd like some more. Also appreciate the writing incentives. Your Camerah vids are freaking mind-blowing.

Bilbi, if you're still reading. A very happy (pre)birthday is wished to you. Your friendship is a gift I shall always treasure.