Author's Note: Shorter than I originally planned, but I wanted to post before too many people had too much time to stew in hatred over Cameron being burned. And no, I'm not stupid; I knew that scene would get the reaction it got. There was mention that it was a horrible thing to do. I agree. But…this is Sarah Connor. She was ready to kill Cameron several episodes before the finale. Then she was ready to ditch Cameron, even knowing the truth about Riley's death. She had it in for the Tin Miss even before the whole jump to the future that lost her her son. There was mention that Sarah was incredibly ungrateful after what Cameron did for her. Well yeah. By the last few episodes, Sarah was very clear on the fact that she did not care about Cameron. At all. She was spouting nonsense about Future-John sending Cameron away because he couldn't stand her anymore. I emphasize the part about nonsense, but that's where Sarah's head was at the time. I'll get into more detail in the chapter, and if you want to argue me on it then I have no doubt that you will. I will say that in a show with timelines galore, the loss of one Cameron shouldn't necessarily mean the loss of Cameron. If you can't look past my evilness long enough to check out the rest of the story well, that's cool.

For those who asked, this isn't meant to be a Jameron thing. Do I actively dislike them? No. Am I aware that there are many, many people who can and do write that couple better than I would? Yes. Am I interested in pursuing other characters and other aspects of the show with this fic? Yes. I'm not saying John and Cameron won't show up, they might. I don't plan this to be too long, but the muse hasn't given me a roadmap of exactly what will happen. That said, if they do show up, it won't be 'til the end, and they won't have massive parts to play. There are so many other fics that already focus on Jameron, and I wanted to do something different. If that means I'm not one of the popular kids, so be it. I can still hope that one or two of you will enjoy this. If you do like it, leave a review. If you don't like it, leave a review. However, I'd appreciate it if after you bash me for lack of Jameron, you could comment on something else as well :)


Burning the metal caused something to shift, something important. Sarah was suddenly Aunt Sarah. Charley didn't press Savannah for details about the change. He assumed it had something to do with the way Sarah comforted the girl, the way Sarah admitted to being in pain herself. So Sarah became Aunt Sarah, even though the frequency of her visits dropped suddenly and dramatically.

She couldn't seem to face him after the breakdown in the garage. Charley didn't understand why being human was such a crime to her, and he didn't get much chance to question her on it. She stopped coming around and all he got were thirty second phone calls, most of those from Ellison, confirming that they were still alive. When Sarah was there, he'd wanted her to go away, to stop disrupting this life she'd forced on him and Savannah. Now that she wasn't there, Savannah missed her. So did he, without knowing exactly why.

There was almost a month of almost no contact. Charley still didn't know what Sarah was doing. The best he ever got was 'I'm trying. I'm trying to stop it.' Not a wealth of information, and Sarah had trained Ellison to tighten his lips as well. This routine of less knowledge being best was getting old fast by the time he got the call.

It was Ellison again. He sounded curt and stretched, and he was talking to Sarah in the background. Trying to anyway. Savannah was nearby when Charley answered the phone, and he walked away quickly, hoping the girl wouldn't repeat any of Sarah's more creative obscenities.

"Something's happened," Ellison stated. "Are you busy?"

It was a ridiculous question. He had no job, no friends. He was in hiding with a dog and a traumatized little girl for company. "I'm never busy. What's going on?" At least she was alive. If she was swearing and yelling at Ellison, at least she was alive.

Ellison started talking about a lead on Kaliba, on Danny Dyson. Charley knew about the Dyson boy, Sarah had at least given him that much. Ellison was saying something about Sarah getting shot when Sarah herself got on the phone.

"Don't come here," she ordered, voice weak and strained. "Don't you come here."

Charley was already grabbing medical supplies from the closet and telling Savannah to get a jacket and shoes. "Where are you? What happened?"

"Don't. Savannah-"

"Savannah's coming with me. How bad is it?"

"It's not bad," she said. The lie was not one of her most convincing. "Stay where you are, keep Savannah there. That's all I'm asking from you, Charley…"

She sounded pissed off. And then she started coughing and she might've dropped the phone and Ellison got back on the line, rattling off an address and telling Charley to hurry up.


It took more than an hour to get to the other safehouse. Charley assumed Sarah had set that one up as well, that she was living there. For someone who's sole purpose was to track these Kaliba people and stop Judgment Day, Sarah had been making a long commute to the lighthouse, sometimes twice a week. That wasn't the case now, but before the metal burned…

Ellison met them outside and rushed them in. He took Savannah in his arms and started talking to her about nothing, pointing his chin towards the back of the house.

Cursing to himself, Charley left Ellison to field Savannah's inquiries on what was wrong. He rushed into a room with a bed and little else. This wasn't a home, it was a place to store weapons and catch a few hours sleep.

Sarah was sitting on the edge of the mattress, an open first-aid kit spilled near her feet. She was decked out in mission gear, stuff Charley had never seen. Combat boots, fatigues, an outfit that made her look hard, intimidating. Or would have if the majority of her blood supply wasn't gushing all over it.

"God!" Charley exclaimed, reaching her in half a second. There was no color in her face, which only accentuated the color of blood. She was pressing weakly at a spot by her side, near her ribs. The shaking of her hands made it impossible to keep the pressure going.

"I told you not to come."

Charley shook his head and tore open his medical bag, much better equipped than the kit on the floor. Only Sarah could look and sound so weak and terrible while looking and sounding so irritated. "Not tonight, Sarah. I'm not listening to that speech tonight. Move your hands."

"It's fine."

She was either in denial or she truly was insane. Charley tried getting at the wound and Sarah used what strength she had to fight him. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop it, Sarah." Fear, anger, and desperation warred within him, and Charley tamped down on all three.

"I can't stop."

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I've got it. I don't need your help."

"If that's true then you take Savannah and you get out of my life for good this time, but you let me take care of this first!"

The words had their desired effect. Sarah quit fighting, dropped her hands and let Charley replace them with his own. For the second time in a month, she let go in front of him, working not to collapse into his arms. Gripping the bed with cold fingers, Sarah put her head down, doing her best not to puke.

"What happened?" Charley asked tightly, noting that her eyes were starting to close. "Sarah. Hey. Look at me. What happened to you?"

With difficulty, Sarah managed to blink her eyes open and meet his gaze. Her vision was hazier than she would've liked. "I got shot."

Charley didn't know if this was her disturbed version of humor. He stifled a hysterical bark of laughter. "That I picked up on. Who did it?"

"Kaliba. There was a facility outside the city, thought Dyson might be there."

"Was he?"

"Don't know. I got shot, then I got distracted."

Charley really wished he knew if she was trying to be droll or if the blood loss was simply getting to her. He pulled things out of the kit, worked on autopilot, saw the way her head kept bobbing as if she was too tired to keep it up. "You went into a Kaliba facility alone."

"I'm used to alone. Worked alone all the time when John was younger."

"Yeah. Didn't you also get shot when John was younger? Then arrested?"

Sarah winced with her eyes closed as Charley's probing made the pain worse. A far-off portion of her brain cursed Ellison for divulging so much of her past to Charley. "It happens."

Charley spared a moment to gape incredulously. It shouldn't anymore, but sometimes her casual attitude towards all this still shocked him. "To you."

"To me," she confirmed, disregarding the sarcasm. Some part of her was amused. She'd turned into Reese. Reese who was so casual about a bullet through the arm. She was Kyle, and Charley had taken on her role. Reese said she'd learn to be a soldier and he was right. "Third time's the charm."

That surprised him and he lost track for a second and Sarah winced. "Sorry," he said quickly, refocusing. "Three times?"

Right, Charley only knew about the two. "Started off at a UFO convention, ended up in a morgue," she explained, gritting her teeth. "Forget to tell you that?"

"Seems to be a pattern with you. Hold still."

There was relative silence for awhile, the only noises being Sarah's occasional hisses of pain and Charley's apologies for causing them. Then a rarely used TV in the other room came on. Ellison was still trying to distract Savannah, maybe keep her from noticing the blood trail that started outside and ended here. The Jetsons theme song was audible through the walls. Hearing it, Sarah came as close as she ever did anymore to laughing.

"What?" Charley asked, glancing at her. They were sitting next to each other on the bed. By necessity, Sarah's shirt was off so he could access the wound on her side. Charley tried not to think of how he'd react to this if the situation were different, if there weren't blood and bullets involved. "What's funny?"

"That," Sarah replied, gesturing weakly towards the closed door through which the TV still filtered. Ellison must've closed it, but she wasn't sure when. Hopefully it was before Charley stripped her half naked. "That show. Used to be my favorite."

"Jetsons, seriously? I was more of a Flinstones kid."

"Yeah well, I would be too. Now."

He was making small talk to keep her conscious, and because it was always too damn quiet with them, too heavy. The small talk was starting to confuse him. "Would you think less of me if I asked what you just said?"

Sarah grimaced. Charley's words reminded her of John, something she'd say to John when he was getting too techy. "Show about the future, all that wondrous technology. Loved it, looked forward to it. Looked forward to how easy life would be with all those computers."

Commenting on the irony would be utterly pointless.. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Can we save the lecture until after I've passed out for a few hours?"

"No. You get any strength back, you won't stick around long enough to hear the lecture."

Sarah sighed deeply. She was exhausted, aching, nauseated, and still bare from the waist up. "I'm not in a position to argue with you right now, Charley."

Frustrated, Charley clenched his left hand against his thigh. Sarah looked down as he did this, noting the glint of his wedding ring. The ring was covered in blood, as were his hands. Charley followed her gaze, saw the symbol of his marriage dirty and stained with Sarah Connor's blood.

He left the bed in a flash, leaving the room as well. He closed the door, but Sarah still heard the taps in the bathroom. There was the start and stop of running water, and then Charley's footsteps. The safehouse was small because it could be. No Cameron, no Derek complaining that he didn't have a bed. No John. From the bedroom, she could hear the volume on the TV going down, hear Charley muttering to Ellison. Hear him speak to Savannah in a brighter, friendlier voice, assuring her that Aunt Sarah would be fine. Sarah winced at the intimacy of the title, at the fact that Charley was lying to the kid without meaning to.

Charley returned with his hands free of blood and a stony expression that would rival Sarah on her best day. After shutting the door behind him, Charley went to the small dresser, yanking open the second drawer from the top.

"I'm sorry," Sarah told him, voice more ragged than she would've liked.

"Yeah. You say that a lot, don't you?" There was a loose-fitting shirt in his hands, but he didn't close the drawer and he didn't move towards her. He just stood there, head down, hands clenching the edge of the dresser.

Sarah bowed her own head and said nothing. The gunshot wound was making it tough enough to breathe, and now her throat was constricting for an entirely new reason.

A long moment passed before Charley turned again. While he got himself together, Sarah had begun to tremble a bit. Whether it was the shock of injuries or the swirl of repressed emotions, he didn't know.

Curbing his desire to slam the drawer shut, he closed it normally. Crossing back to Sarah, he got in front of her and held up the shirt. "Let me help."

"I can do it," Sarah replied quietly, hissing as she moved to take the garment from him.

Still holding the shirt, Charley caught her hands in both of his, applying the barest amount of pressure. He stared her down until she was forced to meet his eyes. "I know you can do it. Let me help."

Sarah did, trying not to think of how awkward the process was, trying not to think of times that process had been reversed. She'd been with men after Kyle, all for John's benefit, so he could learn. Charley had been for her, because he made her remember happiness.

"You remembered how I arrange my clothes?" she asked. He was pulling off her boots and helping to remove her pants and it was too much. She couldn't sit here and let him do this in silence and she distracted herself by talking.

It took him a second to realize she was talking about the drawer. "Funny what sticks with you," he replied. "The things that don't go away." He moved back to the dresser, opening the third drawer on the left.

"Even when you want them to."

"I wish you'd stop saying things like that." Charley came back with a baggy pair of sweatpants and knelt before her.

"You don't want me to say what we're both thinking."

Charley waited until she was dressed comfortably and laid out under the covers. He did everything as fast as possible, for both their sakes. Her blood pressure was too low and the simple task of changing clothes had worn her down. After the grumbling on her part, after she was propped up on pillows, he wiped sweat-soaked hair from her face and checked her pulse again. He felt guilty for using that as an excuse to brush her hand with his.

"You know what I want, Sarah? I want you alive."

Sarah shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "I'm alive."

"You should've called."

Sarah closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. "I didn't want the girl to see me like this."

Charley scoffed derisively. He'd been perched at the edge of the bed. Now he got up and put his back to her. "You didn't want her to see you like this. Did you want to die?"

Why was she always being asked that? By terminators, by kidnappers, and now by Charley. "I had it under control. I didn't want to drag you back into this."

Shaking his head, Charley rubbed his own temple, angry beyond words at her refusal to see. "I'm in this, Sarah. I never left. No matter how much I want things to be different, they're just not. I'm in this, and I don't want to be in this alone. I refuse to be in this alone because you've decided to get reckless. I can't face this craziness on my own, Sarah. I won't."

"What if you don't have a choice?" she asked, voice low. "I faced it on my own for years."

Charley finally turned to look at her. His face held too many emotions to decipher. "And then when you had the choice not to face it alone anymore, you ran. Alone must not be that bad."

Sarah was silent. She waited for him to leave, but he seemed to want more from her. What that could be, she had no idea. She'd run because she had nothing to give him, nothing but pain. Nothing had changed, except that now he'd sampled what she had to offer.

"I'm not going to die from a bullet, Charley. Don't worry."

"Don't worry," he repeated in disbelief. "Why, because you're bulletproof? Like them?"

Sarah grimaced, thinking of Cameron. John would hate her for that, assuming she ever saw him again. She'd waited weeks, every day hoping there'd be a flash of blue light somewhere and a call to her cell phone. That hadn't happened, and a mutinous part of Sarah's brain told her to accept the fact that it might not happen at all.

"Not bulletproof," said Sarah, realizing Charley still wanted an answer. "I don't think I'll die from a bullet."

"Well, that's reassuring. I'll be sure and tell Savannah that, put it on your tombstone."

Charley turned and left, closing the door more loudly than he meant to. While it was open, Sarah heard the first strains of another happy, cartoon theme song.


Charley's disgust sent him away before he could see the look of grim resignation on her face. John would hate her, but there'd been no choice. Cameron could heal, but only to a point. There were limits, and she'd been badly damaged at the jail. Sarah was sure she remembered Cameron explaining once, after a pretty bad gunfight, that there were limits. At least that's what she kept telling herself.

More firmly, she told herself that there couldn't be a terminator propped up in Charley's garage for an indefinite period of time. They hadn't burned Cromartie right away, and then Cromartie had become John Henry. John Henry, the reason Cameron's chip was gone; the reason Sarah didn't have her son.

John would probably hate her, but that would happen anyway. He'd hate her for the cancer, for being gone when he got back. Or maybe he'd hate her so much that her death wouldn't seem that bad. Either way.

Sarah had been worried during the shirt-changing operation. Not very-it wasn't like Charley was chomping at the bit to feel her up-but still worried. There'd been a small chance that he'd find out about the lump in her breast. He'd already asked about the weight loss, asked if she was eating. That was part of the reason she'd stopped coming around. There was also the fact that she'd given Savannah to Charley so she could focus wholly on the mission. She couldn't split her focus anymore. And she couldn't face Charley after breaking down in the garage, like she had any right to seek comfort from him.

Charley didn't know about the cancer, or the threat of it. If John ever came back, both of them would probably hate her for not saying anything. At least if she stayed away, Savannah wouldn't get so attached, even though Charley kept saying that the kid missed her. The girl would be safe no matter what, Sarah was sure of that. Charley's earlier outburst about taking Savannah herself had been his way of shocking her into submission. Charley loved that kid, he'd never let anyone hurt her or take her away. Charley would die before allowing that to happen.