Disclaimer: For those who keep commenting on the dislike of the lack of Cameron / John pairing I suggest you search for that couple instead of complaining on mine. The story is still young and you have no idea what's going to happen so it may be better for us all if you spend your time on something you will enjoy instead of getting my hopes up with reviewer emails. For those who want to read the story and enjoy it or give me constructive criticism (on something besides the pairing) I welcome you. Enjoy.

I carefully stepped over the floorboards, each one creaking despite my efforts and through the narrow hall with the faded dawn light casting shadows over the peeling wallpaper. The knock continued insistently and I moved closer to the wall so I could look past it to the window by the door and see who it was without hopefully being seen myself. Something soft creased under my feet and I barely acknowledged it as my shirt from last night and the events that led to it being caught on the vent. The knock came again before the splintering sound of wood and my heart caught in my chest as I fell back into the shadows, hands flat against the wall and hoping it was dark enough that I wouldn't be seen. I glanced at the edge of the table through the entryway where David kept his gun and calculating how many steps I could make to it before they saw me and pulling the trigger before they reacted. Too many. Footsteps sounding on the floor, quieter than mine were but loud enough that I could still hear though it might have been because I was tensed for them. Through the doorway, stopping, to the table and then the kitchen. Looking for something. I glanced at the door to the bedroom, half open from where I had left moments before and no movement to suggest that the noise had woken David. That or he had heard and escaped through the bathroom window to leave me as consolation. I couldn't fault him too much for it though. If I had been smart enough to shoot first ask question later I probably would have been done the same. The footsteps faded and crackled on tile and I dared to peek around the corner to see a woman with her back to me stepping into the kitchen and standing in front of the fridge with her attention fixated on it. I glanced at the table and recalculated how quickly I could get to it before she turned around or heard me. Less than a minute ago but that was even assuming that he had been smart enough to leave it loaded or at least bullets close by. Another step. I bit my lip against a silent fuck and resisted the urge to bang my head back against the wall in frustration. I should have just crawled out the window when I had the chance. Another morning, another knock on the door and another boyfriend who borrowed money from the wrong person and saw fit to have it collected at six in the morning. But this time I was stupid and I would most likely die for it or at the least suffer a blow to the head which I'd rather do without. Another look around the corner, another calculation of the steps and I moved but she moved faster. Half way to the table and the half opened drawer with the gun visible inside and she was in front of me blocking it. She towered over me with a disinterested look on her face and something unnatural about the way the light hit her skin and making it look unrealistic and manufactured. I stumbled back and grabbed for the lamp I knew was behind me and not plugged in – a backup plan David once told me during Orientation – and aimed it at her head but her hand reached out and grabbed me by the wrist and twisted. My jaw tightened as pain sunk into my muscles and the lamp dropped from my grip and shattered on the carpet, my fingers clenched and upwards as she continued to hold me with inhuman strength. My arm started to go numb and I heaved uneasy breaths between my teeth as she stared at me, head cocked and curious like she were scanning me and unsure of the results.
"Are you Amanda Reid?" She asked her voice stoic and out of place considering the fact that she was minutes away from breaking my arm. I didn't answer, teeth still grinding and too far away from anything else I could lift to throw at her as a plan C. Her head turned to her other shoulder, eyes still searching and calm. "Are you Amanda Reid?"
"Yes," I choked it out between my teeth, veins sticking out from my arms and the faint line of muscle that I apparently had to be seconds from death to display. Her grip released and I fell back against the couch, cradling my arm to my chest and feeling like it was weighted down with wet sand and able to fall apart as easily.
"You're Amanda Reid?" She repeated, head still cocked to the side and voice calm as if this was an everyday occurrence and she already knew the protocol that followed.
"That's what I said," I answered angrily, still clutching my arm and stepping back against the wall which left me the option of bolting past her to the still open door or back through the hallway to the bedroom where the window never properly shut and it was a short drop to the grass. Neither seemed like viable options though and neither was the threat to take them as she continued to stare at me, more curious then hostile. Unsettled I stared back at her as her eyes slowly travelled over me and taking me in with no interest or lack of it to tell me what she had determined from the look.
"My name is Cameron," she spoke, finally meeting my eyes and a calm emptiness behind her own. "I am from the future and I have been sent her to protect you, Amanda Connor." The fuck ...

I slowly opened my eyes, roused from memories in the form of dreams and the opposite wall staring back at me to remind me that it was just that. Light was hazy through the window and I rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling and the crack that divided it into a corner and the rest of the room. Footsteps and muffled voices echoed downstairs and I let the last few days – months – sink in and reminding myself of them in greater detail. Machines. Skynet. Nuclear War. The Future. John Connor. Amanda Connor. Me. Seemed simple enough. Easy when you could think it in sentence fragments and avoid saying it aloud whenever necessary. Not easy. But easier. I let out my breath slowly and reminded myself of everything one last time before pushing myself up and off the bed.

The floorboards creaked under my feet as I walked and announcing myself before they saw me so John and Sarah were already looking up when I stepped in. Decorative pieces of metal were scattered across the table and in John's hands and he grinned when he saw me so it looked like he had been holding it in and it now made him breathless. Sarah was less welcoming.
"You're up," she observed, setting the cardboard box in her hands to the chair and filling the last empty one. I ignored the bite of the action and the question, instead walking around her to move it myself and twirling the box between my fingers as I sat.
"How'd you sleep?" John wondered, leaning his elbows onto the table and the metal pieces and tools crunching as he put weight onto them. He grimaced as they did but didn't move them, dedicated to the action.

"It was good," I answered, smiling kindly enough at him that he blushed and looked away. Footsteps sounded quieter but more distinct on the floor and I glanced up as Cameron walked, shoulders and back straight with the strap of her pink bra sticking out and something unnaturally human about it that she hadn't tucked it back in.
"New ID's today?" She asked, head tilted as she took each of us in and addressing it to each of us individually. "It's been three days."
"You noticed," I said dryly, still turning the box and the cardboard burning under my finger tips. John snorted and I marked it a small victory that he found it funny.
"It's not just ID's," Sarah said through her teeth, picking up on the conversation they had been having earlier that I had missed and filling in the interruptions. "It's not just a name. It's a legend. A life. A whole new you." She looked over at me as she said it, addressing her message to us both but the warning in it towards me alone. Screw up and I'll kill you.
"I want my new name," John cut in and Sarah returned her attention to him to find him suddenly serious and tightening his fingers to the table. "I want the whole new me. I'm ready. We both are." He included me in the glance and Sarah didn't turn to follow it, a muscle tightening in her jaw as the only sign that she knew it was me that he was talking about. "Can't you track down Enrique?"
"All right, I'll track down Enrique," Sarah conceded, looking over to Cameron who was splitting her gaze between the three of us and uncertain which one she should focus on. "Old friend. Ten years ago he was the best fake paper guy around." She was explaining it to her and whatever reason leaving me out of the explanation as if I wasn't privy to hearing it as well. I swallowed the slight and lowered the box to my feet so I could rest them on it.
"John sent back better ones," Cameron answered stiffly and with the announcement promptly turning and stepping out of the room.

I re-crossed my legs over each other and ran my finger over the inside of the jar lid and sucking on it to catch the peanut butter I had collected there and the taste instantly drying out my tongue. I turned the jar over in my hands and examined the cartoon that looked more cheerful then food should be allowed to be. I couldn't remember the last time I had some though. David had been allergic and in the months after I hadn't considered the luxury of it. Might as well enjoy it now though there probably wouldn't be any more after Judgement Day.
"You should probably use a spoon." I looked up as John walked in and he dug his hands into his pockets and shyly looked over at me as if embarrassed by suggesting it. "More sanitary." He grinned to himself as he shuffled over somewhat, not looking me in the eye and instead glancing around the room for presumably better conversation topics then peanut butter sanitation.

"Probably," I allowed, not making the move to get one and watching him – curious – and trying to piece together the foundation of who he was now to who he would be now four years in the future. You'd think after three days together in the same house I would have found something to scratch the surface with but all I saw was a boy with a weight on his shoulders that he was scrambling to dig himself out from under. It wasn't comforting but it also wasn't to shy away from either and I still had my part. I ran my finger along the rim of the jar again and held it out to him as a peace offering that coupled with what we knew about our future and the empty house fell onto sensual. He swallowed hard and stared at it, grip tightening and retightening in his pockets and suddenly feeling bad for making him uncomfortable I sampled it myself and pretended that I hadn't offered.
"So what else is there to eat?" He asked, hand to his hair and sweeping it back as he looked around the decrepit kitchen and seeing no other option of what to say and picking the safest choice.
"I think there's some turkey in the fridge," I shrugged, naming the first animal that came to mind. He visibly brightened.
"Really?" He asked, suddenly eager and turning to open the fridge and glancing around the half bare shelves. "Because I make the best turkey sandwiches. You want one?" He looked over his shoulder at me, hair in his eyes and an endearing smile of someone desperate to please. I let myself grin and nodded and he turned back to the fridge to dig through the contents and pulling them out one at a time to set on the table next to me: Mayonnaise, cheese, bread and the remains of the tomato that Cameron very well have simply cut into the middle of to see what was inside. He shuffled through what remained and his brow creased as he stepped back empty handed.
"I don't see any turkey," he frowned, excitement fading and looking like a child who hadn't gotten what he wanted and was not pleased with an alternative.
"Maybe we ran out," I offered, placating him. He exhaled deeply and let the door shut behind him as he reached over for the phone on the counter and dialed a number before holding it to his ear and waiting. He paced around the table in impatience before leaning against the opposing counter and running his fingers over the metal corners of the sink.
"Are you done yelling at her yet?" He wondered and I returned to my peanut butter as his attention refocused and I briefly had no need to hold it. I ran my fingers over the curves of the jar and memorizing the ingredients on the back as they became longer and more difficult to pronounce.
"Mom, I already looked there's no ...," John walked back over to the fridge and shuffled through it before pausing and pulling out the half empty bag of turkey that had evaded him. He turned to look at me again and raised it as his prize and looking sheepish. "Oh, yeah, there it is. Thanks." I grinned at him in congratulations and he tossed it among the other ingredients and stood to the right of them so that my knee almost touched his hip. "Yeah, we know what no ID means." He hung up and tossed the phone back to the table and rolled his eyes at me as if to show off with the exasperated mother's expression. I nodded, allowing him it as he sorted out the ingredients and tapped his finger twice on the end pieces of bread and thinking of what else he needed before crossing back over to the sink and pulling a knife and a spoon from drying rack. He returned and held the spoon out to me as if in peace offering and I grinned before I could help myself and took it.

I ran the crust of my sandwich over the plate once more and catching what remained of the mayonnaise and mustard that John had allowed to be included as a mild sort of experiment. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand as I chewed it and watched our shadows of the couch, aware that he was watching me.
"I told you they were good, right?" He asked, grinning at his perceived success and waiting for my approval of it. I reached for my glass of milk and took a sip, leaving him in suspense as I swallowed.
"I believe your exact words were 'the best'." I corrected him and setting the glass back to the table where it clunked on the wood and left a visible ring. He laughed and looked back to his own plate, balanced on his knee.
"And is it?" He was looking at me through his strands of hair again and giving him the advantage of seeing his expression but robbing me of the chance to see his. It was unsettling not being able to see it. Not being able to read what he was thinking and having to use my own instincts to guess.
"I'm not sure. Your faith in it fluctuates," I teased and he laughed, turning back to his plate and making me smile both from the sound and that I had guessed correctly.
"So, what about you? Do you cook?" He wondered, leaning back on the couch and the springs of it creaking in the weight. I set my plate back on the table next to the glass and ran my hands over my knees in the suggestion that I was brushing off crumbs but really thinking of a safe answer.
"Considering that I find eating peanut butter straight from the jar proper etiquette ... I'd say no," I offered instead and his eyebrows creased in recognition that it wasn't a straight answer but knowing enough of me in the past week to suggest I wouldn't give a proper one. He leaned forward to put his own plate next to mine and I watched his back curve and straighten with it and briefly wondered if he would shiver if I ran my finger down his spine. The door creaked open behind us and I turned to the light coming through it and Cameron walking after, scratch marks and blood detailing her face and a slight limp in her step as she walked past us and into the other room. Sarah stood standing in the door and slowly looking up to both of us, her shoulders sagged, face solemn and for the first time since I had known her – afraid.

"Turn for me," I advised, fingers on Cameron's chin and holding it steady as she obediently turned and I dropped my touch to the compact of makeup in my lap and the evidence of it poorly executed on her cheeks. I ran the brush through the powder before dotting along her chin where thin scratch marks were barely visible and fading under my half skilled work. It was different from when I was eight and the makeup came in plastic tins for a dollar and did nothing but make your lips too red and your eyes too dark. But I thought it made me pretty and then I thought it mattered.
"So, what I'm getting is these things, they're here," Sarah spoke, breaking the silence as if picking up a conversation we never started. "All over, I guess. And they, some of them all of them are programmed with specific missions."
"The one at the safe house was sent there for those fighters," Cameron answered, tilting her head somewhat and showing me where I had missed the marks down her neck. "Skynet doesn't know you're here. There's no directive to hunt you. Either of you." Without turning her head she glanced down at me so that I knew it was me who she addressed.
"So if I was to walk right by one ...," John asked, working on something behind us and hope cracking under his words.
"They'll walk right by you," Cameron now turned her glance to him, head still steady and no pulse betrayed in her neck when my fingers brushed it. I swallowed down the thought of how strange it was and closed the makeup in my lap. Some things you never got used to – no matter how many times you repeated it alone to yourself. "They don't know what you look like. They're still learning who Amanda is." She took the makeup back from my hands and opened it so she could use the mirror and turning it back and forth to examine my work.
"That's really awesome," John breathed and took the tools case he was using back over to the counter and sorting the pieces inside.
"And what if he found out who he was? Who they are?" Sarah wondered, stepping to the center to join him and including me like an unwanted afterthought. "Would they all know what to do then?"
"They do," Cameron nodded, closing the compact and handing it back to me, silently approving of my work.
"Awesome," Sarah answered with a sarcastic smile. I stood up from my seat and brushed off my lap in more habit then need and crossing to the counter where she and John stood and staring at one another with the trained glances of two people who knew each other well enough to know the others thoughts without saying them.
"So school's registration is tomorrow at 3:00," John said, breaking the eye contact and sorting the pieces again back into the case. "Do you think we can have all this sorted out by then?" He raised his eyes again to hers and his fingers lingered on the lid to wait on either if he would continue sorting or close it in subdued anger.
"Can't you just be happy being yourself a little while longer?" Sarah pleaded and John's shoulders dropped in premature defeat as he stared down at the tiny pieces and knowing their name and purpose better than I did. "Just sit still? It's not so bad being a Connor." She looked over at me as she said it, half a warning and half a welcome though I couldn't tell if either were intentional. I returned her gaze until she was the one who dropped it.
"That's easy for you to say," John bitterly replied, turning something round and metal between his fingers.
"Is it?" Sarah asked and let the words sink in before turning away from the both of us and the kitchen and her footsteps echoing and then fading in the hall. I looked over at John who was watching me first and slowly closed the lid of the case so it clicked into place. Footsteps again followed it and Sarah stalked back in, steps heavy on the tile.
"You all put back together tin man?" She asked Cameron and returning to the table to slid the gun off it and into the waistband of her jeans.
"Tin man?" Cameron asked, head tilted in the gesture she had learned to associate with a question.
"You ready to go?" Sarah translated, surprisingly patient that she had to.
"Thank you for explaining," Cameron acknowledged and handed the towel she was holding to me and expecting me to have a use for it before turning and her light step following her out of the room.
"You two stay here," Sarah addressed to both of us, John now by the cabinet and leaning back against the oven. "Still like a statue."
"Enrique?" John asked, ignoring her order.
"Statue," she repeated through her teeth.
"Yeah, we've been statues for the last three days," John reminded her and not pleased that he had to do so.
"We'll be back," she said, allowing herself a tender moment to touch his check before looking to me. There was caution to her eyes which was less then affection but more than hate and I allowed it but not the mourning that came with it.

I ran my fingers through the last of the dust stained boxes and turning over the hard covers of the books inside with the titles sunk into the cardboard so I couldn't read them. I peeled open the pages of the one I held and glanced over the words and tried to get a feel of them without committing to it entirely. I set the one I was holding down before picking up another and another, all of them packed close together and sticking when I tried to pick them apart. Much use they would do me but there was something comforting about them anyway. Having them there and being able to read them if I wanted to. Another thing to enjoy when I still had the chance. I rolled back on my ankles to sit on the dust soaked carpet and opened the peeling pages of the one I held.
"Amanda," John's voice called from the other room and I slammed the book shut so the air danced with dust and despite the pretty image I coughed and choked on it. I tossed the book none too carefully back into the box and stood as John walked in and would only get to guess at what I was doing.
"I'm going out you coming?" He was holding his jacket as if he had made the decision already and was waiting only on my approval as a formality.
"Out? Out where?" I asked as Sarah's order replayed itself for me and the warning behind it as if I had forgotten and needed to be reminded.
"Anywhere," He shrugged, gesturing to the door down the hall from us and whatever he so badly wanted to see through it. I followed his glance and back before raising my eyebrows at him at the suggestion and hoping it was enough to dissuade him from the idea. It didn't.
"I can't sit still any longer," he explained without me asking, fingers readjusting their hold on the jacket with barely concealed anticipation. "I need fresh air and people and ... I don't know something. Are you coming?" He watched me, waiting for me to answer and every possible scenario that could go wrong illustrating itself for me in my thoughts. A machine could recognize us, we could be stopped for a petty crime, John could be hit by a car and all of it tying back to if Sarah found out and what she would do if she did. But he was excited and whatever weakness inside me that I couldn't bury didn't want to be the one to do it for him. I didn't like it but it was there and it didn't go away like I wanted.
"Fine," I conceded and his face cracked into a grin.

I balanced between not being sure if I should hold his hand as a romantic gesture or holding it so he didn't get more than a few feet out of my sight. There was people everywhere and each one I saw there was some glimpse – imagined or not – of a mechanical step or naturally reflected skin that made me see Machine's everywhere and that I was alone in them as his only defense. John didn't seem to notice though and only seemed happy to be out in the sun and people again and was looking everywhere at once to talk it all in. He looked like a boy when he did that. Wanting to see everything and not enough time to see it all in. Would he always be like that? Unable to sit still? Was it what made him a great leader or what kept him rooted in my eyes as a child? I didn't know the answer to that and a part of me didn't want to.
"How about here?" He asked and I worked my way out of my own thoughts to take in the granite building stretched out before us and the words "South Valley Mall" stenciled in gold on the front.
"A mall?" I asked in disbelief as people milled in and out of it and not noticing that we had stopped to stare at it. "First date with a girl and you take her to a mall?" He glanced over at me in surprise and I almost missed the blush to his cheeks by taking in a group of men who passed who paid me less attention then I allowed them.
"Cut me some slack I'm out of practice," he teased and I rolled my eyes to continue the lightness of the moment before he tentatively reached for my hand and I allowed his fingers through my own.

One of the computer screens had blue lines crossing and blending together over it and I took a moment to stare at it before moving in to take the dozens of others that lined the tables and walls with music I didn't recognize playing over the speakers. John's fingers were still through mine and occasionally I felt his thumb caress the back of my palm and it grounded me before something else caught my attention and I was again distracted. Everything had aged ten years and I couldn't seem to fit the pieces in between them as to how they got there and it unsettled me. Surrounded by technology and I had no idea how it got there or how in four years it would turn back and declare war. It made the room seem small and like I suddenly couldn't breathe.
"Here," John interrupted and squeezed my hand as he stopped next to one of the computers and dropped my hand all together. He started typing into the keys and I leaned against the edge as he brought up a chess game before closing it and scrolling the house across the screen. He clicked on one of the icons before typing "John Connor" into the search engine and hitting enter. It loaded faster than I expected and a line of articles followed underneath it with the top one that he clicked and the words "Fugitives die in Bank Heist" came across the screen. I leaned forward over the keys and stared at the picture of the four of us, Cameron in front with a gun in hand and the three of us behind her and waiting to see what she would do next. My eyes weren't on where the camera had been shot and I was instead staring off to the side somewhere looking like a whole different person then I now or maybe seemed that way because I was looking at myself with the words "murderer" and "fugitive" printed to the side. He scrolled down before I could finish reading and the page changed before I could ask him to go back up. It was a middle aged man with a EMT uniform and a grin on his face under the words "Charlie Dixon" and beside an article I was only half interested in enough to notice.
"Who's Charlie Dixon?" A voice asked before I could and we both looked up to see a young woman standing on the other side on the screen and a name tag pinned to her shirt. "You shouldn't surf with the demo." She gestured behind us and I glanced over my shoulder to see the picture now on a bigger screen so that anyone who bothered to look could read his name. "People get in your business. " John quickly turned back and exited out of the page with a frantic movement to his fingers.
"Clear your history too," she suggested, walking around the table and making me tense that she was so close to him.
"My history?" John asked, half panicked and the words not coming out right.
"Your history. What you've been looking at," she smiled, leaning over him and to take control of the keyboard. "Snoopy people, dude. Snoopy people all over. Got a special on this." She nodded back to the screen and her charm now in her eyes equally sale.
"No, maybe later. Thanks," John reached for my hand again and pulled me away from her and out of the store. He finally stopped by a potted plant next to a water mountain and leaned over his knees like he couldn't breathe and I cautiously put my hands to his back but unsure how it could have been helpful. He straightened though before I could properly do so.
"I have to do something and I need to do it alone," he said, cutting right to the chase and hopefully whatever argument I might have against it. I scoffed.
"That's all good and well John but it's too dangerous for you to be out alone," I pointed out, attention for a moment distracted by a woman passing and taking her own moment to stare at us.
"I'm not a child," he said through his teeth and I had to resist the urge to scoff at that as well. Only when you don't get what you want and I have to placate you.
"No you're just the savior of mankind," It came out harsher then I intended and his eyes hardened as he looked at me and maybe for once seeing me as a person instead of a girl there to hold a gun and flaunt his ego.
"And as that savior I'm ordering you to let me do this – alone," he leaned forward as he said it so our noses nearly touched and there was a threat to his tone. I held my ground and stared back at him, biting back words it wouldn't go over well if I said and the confidence that if I really wanted to I could have him pinned and to the ground within three steps.
"Fine," I answered surprised that I had said it but no desire to go back on it. Let him be a child and do what he wanted when so much rested on his shoulders. What did I care? I did care but the why was still unanswered. He blinked, surprised as I was that I had backed down and before I could rethink it turning and running back through the hallway and disappearing through the crowd of people.

I kicked at a piece of cement that had chipped itself out of the curb and watched it roll unevenly over the cracks before resting in a piece of grass. I kicked at it again for good measure before walking around a man that blocked my path and crossing my arms over my chest. It had been an hour and I was still angry and not used to holding onto emotion for this long. Usually it was gone or buried by now but this came up every few minutes as a friendly reminder and the harder I tried to let it go the harder it came back. It wasn't his fault it was mine. For believing that he was more than human and having an idea that he had no desires or flaws and knew what needed to be down before anyone else could. For having an image of who he was before I met him and trying to fill in the lines that weren't really there. It didn't make me any less angry though. I exhaled deeply and scanned the buildings that lined the street and the people that filled them and nothing familiar or comforting about any of them. It used to be easier. Disappear into a new place with the same pieces but a different way of putting them together but now ... now all I saw were enemies and places that in four years would be rubble and me at the helm responsible for keeping what remained together. It was suffocating. And like everything else in the moment it wouldn't allow itself to be buried. Ignoring it instead I caught the eye of a library standing out from between a series of trees and a line of steps to the door. I crossed over the sidewalk and up the steps and through the doors before I could think any further on it and into the air conditioned front lobby. It was quieter inside – the silence more comforting then the sound and I walked past the front desk to where all the aisles lined up and each and every one of them full of books. And all I lacked was a library card. I smirked at the thought and walked over instead to the row of computers, these ones older then at the electronics store and wear and tear to the keys.
"You need to pay to use those," a voice said it behind me and I half turned to see a woman with frizzy brown hair and glasses low on her nose. She nodded to the computers as if I hadn't heard. "You need to pay for those."
"How much?" I wondered, fingers digging into my pockets and whatever change I had left over from the laundry.
"One dollar per hour," she answered, adjusting the books in her arms and readying her hand to be held out for her payment. I pulled out a crumbled, ripped bill and handed it to her without checking how much it was and turning to sit down at the nearest computer. It was already loaded and I scanned the icons on the side and trying to guess which one they all were without opening them and how they changed since the last time I had used a computer. Years. David couldn't afford one and I hadn't had access for a long time before that. I clicked on one that looked like a search engine and it slowly loaded as a cartoon paper clip came up on the side and asking if I needed help. I smiled faintly. These were the things that were going to take over the world. And I was going to be the one that stopped them. I couldn't tell which was funnier. The search engine blinked at me and I typed in "Amanda Connor" with a sense of deprecating humor. A dozen or so results came up – a comic book artist, a CEO for a power plant company – and none of them that I recognized which I guess was symbolic. I backspaced the results and tapped my fingers on the keys, hard enough that they made a sound but not enough that they entered. Readjusting in my chair I typed "Amanda Reid" in instead. Over one hundred came up this time and I scrolled down the list before clicking on the top one. Something about being a fugitive and dying in a bank – the same as the one John had read but without him controlling the pace I read. I scanned down the page and jumping from sentence to sentence so I knew the generalization of what it said but not enough to recite it back. I was a fugitive, a bank robber, a possible murderer and presumably dead. None that really stung or made an impact – just words on a page on a web page that no one probably ever searched and in a few years wouldn't even exist to be remembered by. I scanned to the bottom anyways and froze on the picture near the sources. My stomach went cold and the lights seemed to dim and I shifted closer in my seat to stare at it and make sure it was worthy of the reaction or just something I saw wrong. I was smiling in it – gapped teeth and hair in braids that I had done myself but falling apart because no one had ever taught me how. And beside me on my arm was Ally. Just as I remembered her. Young and smiling with her own two front teeth missing and patches to her shirt that I had made before it was handed down to her. Her hand was in mine and I remember it being tight as the picture was taken and half moon marks in my palm from when she finally let go. I wanted to run. I wanted to run and never stop and didn't know if I wanted to stop and I wanted to stare at this picture and remember a thousand details of it and always be looking for one that one more that I might have forgotten. I took a deep breath to clear my head and choked on it so the woman next to me raised her eyebrows in more annoyance then concern. I ignored her and found the print icon at the top of the screen and clicked it before leaning back in my chair and tightening my fingers together so they wouldn't shake. The printers behind me whirred and I stood to go over to them and clearing through the pages that no one had bothered to pick up and the rest of the article until I could find the one with the picture and folding it carefully to put into my pocket and walking out the front doors.

I ran my finger over the image of her face for the hundredth time and the ink finally giving and starting to smudge. She must have been eight when we took this. I would have been ten. People said we could have been twins though. Same eye colour and smiles with other details of a similar jawline and hands that people had listed to us that our genetics had won out and we had both been beautiful. Back when I thought it mattered if I was or not. Back when she knew no difference. A door opened and closed downstairs and I refolded the picture so I could fit it back into my pocket and to my hip. Footsteps echoed on the floorboards and a distant call of my name that I was half tempted to ignore. Let him think that I wasn't here and worry for once. But I wasn't cruel and neither was he for mine to be forgivable.
"Up here!" I rested back on the pillows to wait for him and the footsteps came up on the stairs and through the hall until I could see him at the door and hesitating with his fingers to it. He stood there silently, silent stained to his neck and cheeks like he had been running and instinct wanting me to ask what was wrong.
"Can I come in?" He gestured to the room with a short glance and I followed his for any detail that might give away that it was my room or that he had to ask. Bed, dresser, window, closet, chair ... just a room. Not mine.
"Sure," I shuffled up higher on the pillows and he cautiously walked over to the sit in the end of my mattress and his hands trapped between his knees. We both waited – each one hoping the other would say something and neither of us wanting to concede and be the one to say it. And in that moment I saw that I was no more or less a child then he was and the idea of it terrifying.
"How'd your errand go?" I asked, not wanting to let the thought rot inside of me and asking before it did. He snorted at the question and stared down at the carpet I had half heartedly tossed in for an attempt of making it look more like mine but instead like a room I had surrendered to someone else to decorate and that person failing.
"Interesting," he said, picking the safest word like I would have and making me smile that it was a similar trait. He looked up at me, light from the window cut over his face and sharpening his cheekbones as if I was seeing him twenty years from now. Older. But still handsome. "What about you?"
"I didn't have an errand to run," I replied flatly, more tired than annoyed when the words came out. A smile quirked at the corner of his lips.
"I hope I didn't worry you too much," the words contradicted the tone and sounded like he had really hoped I did but worried I'd notice or worse off deny it. I tilted my head to the side and the light reshaped to instead soften his cheeks and making him look this time younger but not bothering me as it did a moment ago. It made me want to run my fingers over his jaw and see if I could feel stubble.
"You always worry me," I said honestly. That you'll get yourself killed and that it'll be my fault. That you'll make a wrong step and that everyone will suffer for it. That you won't love me like you're supposed to and that I won't be able to love you enough. He didn't hear those though and what he did hear made him smile.
"John?" We both looked up and saw Sarah standing at the door, not waiting for the invitation and her shoes already stepped over the threshold.
"Hey mom," John uncomfortably turned to face her and readjusting how he sat so there was no hint that we were doing anything we weren't supposed to be doing and that a simple change in position could change that. "How'd it go with Enrique?"
"We need 20 grand," she said in the form of an answer, looking over as if to examine me and find whatever clue that John had hid.
"So not well," I guessed and her eyes narrowed, dissuaded from whatever I was hiding but not winning her any points that I was losing simply by existing with her sons last name.
"Get your shoes on," she said, nodding to us both – me begrudgedly – and already making to leave the room. "Do you want your new names or what?"

The metal steps of the fire escape creaked and groaned as I climbed them and with each one convincing me that this was the one that would give out and drop me and that I had a long way to fall. Almost ironic if I was supposed to co-lead a Nuclear war and died from a broken step. I could hear John climbing behind me and would have to maneuver it in such a way as to not land on him and taken him down too. The steps levelled and I stumbled somewhat as I crossed onto the platform and through the broken window with police tape ripped and barely covering off the hole. It was darker inside and I pulled the flashlight I had been given out of my pocket and flicked it on to scan the walls. Dust rose in the air and I could see the decay and disrepair to the room and faintly what looked like blood smeared across the boards.
"You sure there's money here?" John asked, bumping into my elbow and steadying me before himself as the beam from my flashlight shuddered against the opposing wall.
"Money, guns, anything they valued," Cameron said calmly, her boots echoing in the empty room and her voice quiet beside it. "It will be hidden. Always hidden."
"Yeah, well whatever they had, let's hope that the cop didn't get to it first," John observed and crouched against the wall where several papers were pinned to it and the light from my flashlight illuminating over them but only him close enough to read it.
"Let's hope our metal friend didn't find it," Sarah – always the optimist – said and her voice quiet from where she knelt across the room. I started to walk over past her, my boots clicking on the floor and making patterns in the dust.
"Our metal friend was only here to kill that fourth fighter when he came home," Cameron answered, walking over with me and looking for whatever I might have found.
"And he's still out there somewhere?" I asked, scanning the walls and the faded beam over the cracked and chipped walls.
"Unless it's found him," Cameron answered, looking over the walls and her head turning in calculated movements to allow each one. I looked away from it and the not yet faded ease it made me feel.
"That's ridiculous," John scoffed and I looked over and saw him looking at a poster of a kitten hanging from a tree branch on the wall and the words "Hang in there baby" printed on the bottom. I bit back a laugh and walked over to join him standing in front of it.
"People do like small animals," Cameroon pointed out, not understanding the significance.
"Yeah, but ... I don't know how to explain this," John looked to me for help and I shrugged my shoulders, at as much a loss as him. "Some badass solider is not going to have a kitty poster on the wall. He walked to the poster and ripped it off the wall to reveal an ornate black safe built into the wall with plaster coming down around the sides behind it. "Mom?"
"Do what you do, girly," Sarah said and I jumped in my skin not knowing she was so close and looked back to see her glancing at Cameron. Cameron nodded and walked over to it and just as she touched the handle she was thrown back and sparks coming off of it and singeing the floor. I pulled John to the floor with me and knelt between him and the safe though the threat seemed to be – for the moment at least – subdued and turned to Cameron who was unconscious on the floor with one arm thrown over her head.
"They must have rigged it," John guessed, pressing his fingers to her neck for a pulse that wasn't there before turning her head back and forth for any sign that she'd respond. "What'd she say? 120 seconds before the system reboots?" Sarah ignored him and walked over to the safe herself and examined it from a close distance with her flashlight beam showing off the details.
"We gotta get in there John we can't come back," she said, voice urgent and her boots pacing back and forth on the floorboards.
"Mom, we'll find the money another way," John assured her, hands rested on Cameron's arm and still tensed for when she'd move.
"No, whatever's in there I want it now," She pleaded now almost panicked and turning back and forth from the son to the safe and torn between them both. I stumbled to my feet and over to her and for once she seemed welcomed that I was there. "Numbers. What are the numbers? What could the numbers be?" Numbers popped and floated in my head in a thousand combinations and I felt a moment of panic that there were so many and only a few seconds to go through them. Machine. The Future. Skynet. Judgement Day. Judgement Day. I brushed past her and she let me go as I pulled my sleeve over my fingers and carefully pressed in the numbers, braced that it wouldn't work and I would be wrong and it would send me shooting back like the same shock to Cameron but this one more likely to kill me then her. Finishing I grabbed the handle and it opened with a crack and revealing its stark black interior with a brown cloth bag folded in the middle.
"How did you?" Sarah asked in breathless disbelief.
"It's a date," I said and briefly turning to her. "Judgement day." She stared at me for the moment I let her and I saw that same look that was less then affection but more than hate in her eyes and undoubtedly reflected in my own.
"Come on," John brushed past us both and reached into the safe to gather the bag and handing it off to Sarah as a dog suddenly starting barking downstairs and we all tensed. It continued unhindered and distantly underneath it the sound of footsteps. I sprang into action and landed at Cameron's side as John did on the other as we both strained to lift her and the muscles standing out and straining in my arms as her feet dragged across the floor with the rest of her not much higher. Sarah rolled a chair over to meet us and we dropped Cameron into it, my arms seizing and with no time to recover them pushing her back and in line with the window. John dove for two bags on the floor and ran on ahead of me to toss them out the opening and I spun the chair around so Cameron faced it before running it hard against the wall and causing her to roll and topple out of it and down the five or so storey drop. She fell through mid air for a moment before landing on a parked car and the roof of it shattering under her weight. I ran around behind where the chair still stood and past Sarah and John who were both staring at me with disbelief and to crawl out the open window to the fire escape.

I dropped from the last step and over to where Cameron was sitting up in the crushed metal and no worse for wear then if she had simply fallen asleep and taken a nap. She pushed herself off of the car and to the ground to join us and I felt something prickle at the back of my neck and turned to see someone standing behind the metal fence that made up one side of the alley and shrouded in dark. My heart rate jolted for a second before John's hands closed around my elbow and I was following after him and the others before briefly looking back and seeing that where he had been standing before was empty.

"What are those?" Cameron asked and I looked up from the gun in my hand to see her instead looking to John and a small grey pouch clutched in his fingers. Setting the gun down next to the others that I'd found John poured the contents into his palm and they glittered in the light as he turned them.
"Diamonds," he explained and held the hand out to me so I could see for myself and looking up to check that I did. I reached over and took several from his hand and the jagged points digging into my fingers.
"Girl's best friend," I commented, letting them fall into my palm and turning them back and forth so rainbow light scattered over my palm.
"Why?" Cameron asked, looking confused and stepping closer to me to look over my shoulder to see if my actions could answer her question.
"I don't know," I admitted and held out my handful to her so she could take and obliging so she could turn them between her own fingers and squinting at it in the light. Still staring it she turned and walked from the room, carefully avoiding the walls as she passed and her boots quietly echoing down the hall.

I curled up deeper into the corner of the couch and let my gaze stop from person to person around the room as they either ignored me or took the chance to look me up and down and continue as if what they saw was not worth of great attention.
"Want a drink, kid?" I looked over at one of the men next to me with his boots up on the cluttered table and a beer bottle in his hand. He turned it back and forth for me with a smirk, thinking that I was a child and I could be enticed by the pretty colour and movement. Which probably meant that he shouldn't be offering me a beer.
"No thanks," I tried politely and met Sarah's eyes from where she stood in the middle of the room which as much comfort as I felt. She nodded to acknowledge that she saw me before turning her gaze back around the room.
"Come on, girl like you you've never had a drink?" My "friend" asked again and I looked back over to him to see that out of all the people he had been the one whose attention I held. He offered it out to me with that same smirk and another man counting bills across from us stopped what he was doing to watch. I weighed the cons against the pros before leaning over to take it from him and taking a long sip. It was warm and burned down my throat and sick in my stomach but I finished it and handed it back to him, wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve. He took it in surprise and I felt satisfied for a moment before the nausea fully settled and I felt more stupid for being baited then proud that I caught him off guard. He turned back away from me and quietly sipped at what I left him and his interest in me subdued. I looked back over to the other man who had been watching and he turned away as I noticed him and busied himself with again counting bills. I burrowed deeper into the couch again and contemplated how easily I could climb over one of them if I had to make a break for it and be sick.
"They're exactly what you asked for," a voice stood out from the others and I glanced over to see the man – Carlos – who had been talking to Sarah earlier now standing back at her side and holding a thick yellow envelope out to her. "These ain't just forgeries. This is full service. You're in the system and everything. Collect welfare with 'em if you want."
"We might have to," she answered, taking it from him and peeling open the top so she could rummage around inside of it. Carlos leaned over to the table in the center of the room and took an opened beer bottle off of it an took a deep draft of it before returning to stand at her side.
"Didn't take you too long to round that up so I'm feeling the price was right," satisfied with her reaction he walked over to an arm chair and threw himself into it so the back shuddered and the springs underneath creaked. "Maybe you'd have gone another ten g's."
"Uncle Enrique would be proud," Sarah remarked, envelope again closed and her fingers holding the top of it together.
"So I miss the next family barbeque," he shrugged and glanced over and noticed me still huddled in the corner. "Your girl want a beer?" He winked as he said it, the beer only half the offer.
"She's underage," Sarah said through her teeth and gestured for me to get up and follow her, what we came for done. Never stopped anyone before, I thought but obeyed and stood so the floorboards swayed somewhat and the man next to me pulled back his legs so I could pass. I stumbled over the corner of the couch anyway and Sarah pressed a hand to my back to steady me and her grip firm as she guided me around the sprawled men and after Cameron to the front door.

The air was cold and cleared my head but my steps angered my stomach so I gritted my teeth and walked through them and hating that little sense of pride I had left that made me take the beer. Sarah pretended not to notice and seemed distracted besides so I slowed my walk and wrapped my arms around my stomach and counting how much further it was until we would take to get home before I could lay down or be sick – whichever would feel better when we got there.
"Thank you," I said the words out before I could think them and no context to suggest why I did. Sarah looked over at me, a breeze pulling at her hair and the collar of her jacket.
"For what?" She wondered, turning again to look down the street and Cameron silent on the other side.
"Taking me with you. Tonight," I shrugged like it made no difference and dropped my arms to dig into my pockets instead and my stomach at a loss from the sudden lack of contact.
"You earned it," she said with just as much indifference as I had and exhaling deeply into the cold so I could see her breath thicken. "Back at the safe. You earned it." She glanced at me for a moment before looking away and I felt at a loss to the pride I felt that I didn't have to create for myself alone. Acknowledged by someone else and still felt by myself. It was odd feeling and I wasn't sure if I liked it entirely.

"So where are you from?" Cameron asked, hands neatly folded over the table but the hold of them too stiff so it ruined the illusion of someone simply professional and giving away that it was an unnatural pose for her.
"Lawrence, Kansas actually," John answered, his tone of voice light and conversational and leaning on his arm that rested itself on the table in front of the papers we'd both have to memorize. "It's a pretty good size city. About 80 000." I hid a yawn and buried my chin into my knees to cover it and wishing I could crawl back into bed until tomorrow when the alcohol had finally worn off and people could speak without the words echoing in my head afterwards.
"Go to Kansas City often?" She wondered and a small smile touched her lips in an attempt to make her look friendlier. It matched the smile I sometimes wore but seeing as how I forced it when I did it it didn't look any more realistic by her. Or maybe I was just in a bad mood.
"Well, Lawrence is about 50 miles east of Kansas City," John replied, sounding bored but smug that he knew the answer and picking at the cuffs of his sleeves.
"25 miles west," Cameron corrected and I managed a grin.
"I knew that," John insisted, blinking rapidly for a moment and looking over at me so that he knew I heard it and was reminded of how smart he was.
"What about your father?" Sarah asked footsteps loud on the tile and grating in my ear drums. I pulled my sleeves over my ears and buried my face deeper into my jeans and wishing that they'd all go away. "Your father. Did we leave him behind in Lawrence, Kansas?" Her steps came closer and something glass clinked on wood and I peered between my knees at the table where she had set a mug of something steaming. "For your stomach." She nodded at me to take the glass and I untangled myself from the chair to reach over and rest it in my lap, the heat of it burning through the glass and making the skin of my legs sweat.
"Your father's dead," Cameron answered for us both, head tilted and looking at me curiously and trying to determine what was wrong without asking. Warm beer on an empty stomach. That was what's wrong. "He was a police officer. He died apprehending a criminal. He's a hero."
"Yeah I know that," John said suddenly bitter and leaning back in his chair. "My dad's always a hero. And he's always dead." He stood up from the chair and walked around and past me and out of the room, fingers catching and dragging at the counters as he passed. Sarah watched him go and with a quick glance at us followed him. I lifted the mug to my lips and took a carefully sip and was rewarded with a burn to my tongue that replaced any taste.
"Are you ill?" Cameron asked, head tilting to her other shoulder and eyes darting back and forth over my head.
"No, I'm fine," I shrugged, resting the mug to my knees and pressing the glass to my cheek. "A little hangover."
"I saw you drink. You cannot get hung over from one sip of alcohol. Unless you're a light weight," I raised my eyebrows at her and tried to remember whether or not I had taught her that word. Her eyes lowered for a moment as she thought before meeting mine again and widening. "Are you pregnant? Women when pregnant often feel sick in the morning. Have you and John had sex?" I slowly straightened in my chair and ignored the ache in my stomach as it stretched.
"No," I answered slowly, embarrassed that she had asked and wondering if I should have already or if on at least this I was allowed some freedom.
"You do in the future. You have children. Children are made from sex," she asked it almost eagerly like she was waiting for my approval on the answer and I slowly nodded to give it but pausing mid nod.
"How many children?" I wondered, the word foreign on my tongue and even more unnatural when I associated it with myself. I never thought I'd have kids and yet that had already been decided for me as well.
"Three," she said, nodding to indulge my question. "Two boys and one girl. That's when I was sent back. You may have more now." She smiled that same smile that I had taught her and I let her words sink as I imagined three nameless and faceless children that would one day be mine and my stomach rebelling against the thought of carrying them. I wasn't meant to have children. No maternal bone in my body and no desire to have one and yet years from now in a future worse than this one I'd love John so much I'd be willing to bear his children and fight a war alongside him. I didn't understand that version of myself. I didn't recognize her.
"Or maybe you have the flu?" Cameron tried again and I shoved down my thoughts under everything else and not looking forward to the moment when it came back up to drown me. That wasn't right now though and for the moment that was fine.
"Maybe," I granted and took another sip from the mug.

I ran my finger back and forth over the laminated image of the ID and trying to reconcile some sort of familiarity with it but being left with the idea that the girl staring back at me was someone I used to know but had long ago forgotten and could only recall minor details of. Her face was solemn and her hair was brushed but her eyes were quiet and that was made it click that somehow this girl was me. I stretched my legs down the bed so I could reach into my pocket and my stomach protesting that I had moved. I pulled out the photo I had printed of me and Ally and folded it so that I could compare the ID and the photo together and trying to guess how one became the other. They looked the same. Might have even be the same person but there was no smile and the eyes were empty she'd forgotten how to fill them and let them go silent so people could only guess what she was thinking and never have that clue telling them if they were right. It was the more comforting of thoughts I had and I tried to match the smile but it fell into the one I allowed myself instead of the one that came naturally and popping my metaphorical bubble. Footsteps echoed on the floor boards outside my door and I lowered the piece of paper and slid it under my pillow to hide it and in hopes of flattening it out. Sarah turned her head around the corner and found me curled up innocently in my bed and examining my new ID between my fingers.
"Hey," she greeted with a nod and mild wave.
"Hey," I matched and lowered it to my lap so she'd know she had my attention. Not sure what to do with it she glanced around the room and again reminding me that it wasn't mine and just a place to rest one until ultimately we found another and the same affect to that one as well.
"Can I come in?" She asked, gesturing to the walls and referring the question to them instead of me. I shrugged and she stepped in and dug her fingers into her pockets as she walked onto the carpet and the thickness of it swallowing the sound of her footsteps. She stopped at the end of my bed and looked at it as if to sit but satisfied herself instead with running her fingers over the footboard.
"How are you feeling?" She asked, looking to me and the faded light from my lamp shadowing half her face. "Any better?"
"Not really," I admitted, folding my arms over my stomach to demonstrate. "Cramps."
"Ah," she said, understanding and leaving the topic untouched as she looked around the room again and at the box of books I'd found earlier and dragged in. "You like to read?"
"They left it behind when they left," I said instead, not answering her question and not intending to either. She nodded, accepting that I wouldn't and looking around for anything else to comment and finding herself at a loss of anything to focus on. She was like John like that but that he looked for something to say because he wanted to and she did only because she felt she needed to. I could have told her she didn't need to bother but something kept my quiet and waiting for her to speak first.
"You nervous about school tomorrow?" She finally asked, looking back to me and her search around the room not allowing her anything. I bit back a laugh and a comment about how in comparison to everything else we'd gone through school was mundane and useless.
"Not really. Not first time at a new school," I shrugged it off and picking at the bottom of my shirt which was already fraying from the last person who'd had it and given it to the donation bin where we'd gotten it.
"It's not like last time," she insisted, more comfortable on footing with reprimanding me then trying to make conversation. "It's different. You're important now and you have to abide by that." She stared me down so I heard the implied threat to her words but I only heard the "you're important now" part and had a self pitying moment where I wished for anonymity and no responsibility to anyone but myself and owing it to no one either. But I didn't and I couldn't.
"I know," I said quietly, meeting her eyes and waiting for her to drop it but this time not letting her as easily. She blinked instead and readjusted her fingers on my foot board.
"You remember everything?" She asked, nodding at the ID I had been holding and the papers I needed to remember on my desk.
"Amanda Baum. Grade eleven. Moved from Lawrence Kansas with my brother John and my sister Cameron and my mom. Father was a police officer and he died a hero. I like walks on the beach and getting caught in the rain," I added the last two details for snark and her eyes narrowed as she heard it and not happy that I included it. I waited for her to comment on it but she instead nodded and allowed me to have it in place that I remembered everything else.
"Good. Well ... you should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow," she tried to smile encouragingly but whatever dislike she had for me got in the way and she left before she could commit to it and closing the door behind her. It closed with a creak and the light left in the room dramatically decreased as I turned the aim of the lamp and it brightened up the carpet and the dust and dirt settled in it.
"Yeah," I said quietly and to no one in particular. "Because the rest of them have been small ones."
And I switched off the light