Authors Notes: First, thanks to Vija-Thorn for letting me play in her sandbox. This is a direct tie in to her story 'The Future Is Never Set'. You need to read AT LEAST to chapter 9 to understand any of this story (and then you should continue reading because it's awesome).

Longer times between updates are going to be typical from this point on. I'm back to work, so writing only happens when I find/make the time. (But chapter is extra long to make amends)

DISCLAIMER: I know NOTHING about how to jimmy cars. So I just did as much research as I could into the make of the car (locking mechanisms and such) and made up the rest.

Warning: There's a 'dream sequence' in this one. (It's in the bold, italic font) It might bother the faint of heart, but you can skip it without being lost for the rest of the story. All you really need to know is that John of 2008 is dealing with a LOT of crap, and his dreams are not fun places.

No beta- so all mistake are mine. (And I embrace them proudly before disowning them)


1984

They'd been walking for an hour, Erik leading, and he still wasn't sure exactly what to make of the kinda, sorta, crazy dude. H was pretty sure John wouldn't hurt him without a damn good reason, and close to sure he would actually keep any promises made. But that didn't stop him from understanding the guy was whacked out in ways that defied belief.

John could cold fire a gun and nail a target without blinking. He screamed 'I'm military', and was sporting some serious hardware in that backpack of his. Plus the 'don't even try to fuck with me' vibe he had going was actually pretty damn cool.

On the other hand, the way he dealt with the ordinary shit was weirder than hell.

Who didn't know what a granola bar tasted like, or didn't remember how to buy stuff in a store? Who acted like pawn shops were things of legend? Who talked about hot wiring a car like it was just another Thursday, but thought a dog bouncing around him wanting to play was strange? Erik sighed and waved a hand a Cat.

"You know, you could just throw the damn stick for him..."

"Why?"

Right now his working theory was that John was either an escapee from a secluded militia cult with an apocalypse fetish- because weren't they all- or a disguised alien sent to Earth to learn about the culture; with or without plans for global domination in tow.

He was learning towards 'alien'. A cultist would have better social skills. Erik rolled his eyes and made damn sure John saw him do it.

"What do you mean 'why'? Because he wants to play... Oh god, wait... Please tell me you are aware of dogs being a species on some fundamental level?"

Now John was looking at him like he was the alien complete with impressively irritated glare.

"I know what a frigging dog is!"

Erik raised an eyebrow doubtfully and deadpanned.

"You sure?"

John shot him a look that definitely stated 'fuck you'; in multiple languages. Eventually the dude rubbed a hand through his hair before pointing at the dog.

"He wants me to play fetch- I get it. I'm culture shocked, not a fucking moron... But where I'm from, resources were too scarce to waste on anything as trivial as 'pets'. Dogs were just another survival tool- they didn't play, they worked. And if they didn't-"

John suddenly snapped his jaw shut so fast it clicked. The he looked away with a shrug and Erik slowed a little, coming up alongside him. The guy's life had obviously sucked, but it also seemed like it might be interesting from the bits and pieces he'd picked up; and the guy gave a way a lot if you knew how to listen. Sometimes he gave away more when he was quiet. Erik nudged him.

"If they didn't..?"

For a moment he didn't think John would answer then he sighed and laughed softly. It wasn't particularly nice.

"If they didn't then it depended on how lucky we were. If a dog proved faulty at a critical point it could mean half a compound was executed by an infiltration unit. If we spotted the dud before something drastic happened... Well... Then there was a little more protein in dinner that evening."

Erik nodded, then blinked hard as what the guy said hit home. He froze, having a hard time trying to figure out exactly what point this went from fun banter to seriously messed up.

"Wait... You ate it?!" Seriously, that was an actual thing? A thing you did... You would eat a dog if it wasn't good enough at its job?"

John slowed and to look at him. The fact that the guy seemed slightly confused at just how horrifying Erik found the idea said more about 'fucked up lifestyles' than words ever could. At least he seemed to pick up on some of what Erik was feeling, because his response was, if not gentler than usual, at least a little more sympathetic.

"When starvation is a very real thing every day of your life- waste not, want not becomes general principle. We sacrificed so the dogs who worked for us were treated well, because they saved lives- often at the expense of their own. But no one ever considered them pets, and no one got attached. We couldn't afford that luxury... It has literally been almost 3 decades since I've seen a dog at anything less than high alert."

Erik reached out a hand and watched as Cat bounded over, tail wagging furiously. He tried imagining living like that and couldn't. Then again, he couldn't imagine half the crap John talked about. For the first time in his life he found himself desperately hoping someone actually was bat-shit crazy because the alternative was probably worse. He looked up at John.

"Please tell me you are aware of how fucked up almost everything you say is."

John chuckled, but it wasn't any more humorous than the last time.

"I am aware."

Erik scratched behind the Cat's ear, before turning to look at John intensely. He got the feeling this was a 'now or never' point. And he knew he needed the truth; he just wasn't sure what his chances of getting it were. He figured John would always give him answers when asked, but that wasn't the same thing. Hyper aware of his surroundings as the man was it didn't take him long to start staring back.

"Just spit it out."

Erik paused. There was something in the way John spoke that told him to be careful. It reminded of a picture he'd seen- a nice, open landscape with a warning sign that said 'Caution: Minefield'. Erik was once again reminded that 'nonlethal' didn't mean 'safe and stable' as much as people might like. Sometimes he forgot that. He really shouldn't. He sighed; he also forgot his metal detector and so it was time to start walking and hope for the best.

"John... Um... Look, the general principle of the streets is 'don't ask, don't tell'; so on any other day you wouldn't owe me shit in the way of an explanation- but... Considering you flat out told me someone might try to kill me and that someone will try to kill you- this proves the exception. So, spill... How does a guy know the shit you do, and not know everything else?! I mean, you keep talking about 'where I'm from', but with everything you've hinted at? Dude- from where I'm standing 'where you're from' is more likely to be Mars than here… It's time to fill in a big more of the back story."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting in response, but a loud, patronizing snort wasn't it. Erik growled softly under his breath. John must of heard because he snapped all his attention back on him; and he was suddenly reminded how eerily intense the guy could become.

"So, what? Telling you about one T-800 makes me crazier than a bag of cats- but telling you about an entire future full of machines, controlled by an evil AI overlord, with a little time travel thrown in for that extra touch of 'well shit' is going to make everything I say sound calm and rational?"

And maybe the guy had a right to be annoyed, but that didn't mean he was going to just take it. He stopped walking and whipped around to face the guy, pushing down every part of him that was shouting 'don't piss off the scary dude!'. 'Scary' people only got scarier if they realized their tactics worked. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"Fuck no... But whether I believe you or not isn't a problem; what you believe is. Psychobabble 101- whatever reality you believe is true, that affects what you learn. For instance, you don't like machines. Does that mean you'll shoot every piece of tech you see, or is it just going to be anything you consider to be a 'T-800'?

Erik huffed, angrily.

"I mean, hell, for all I know you think bunnies are the devil's minions... And for the most part- fine, good for you..! But I need to know when I can say 'fuck it, not my problem' and when we need to have ourselves a talk. General disdain for technology, whatever. Randomly murdering people you think are working for machines- that definitely falls under the 'not good' category… Hatred over all things lupus, well- unlike dogs- they do make good eating, so fire away. Anything more extreme and it means we are going to include a serious talk about the 'do's and don't' around Easter."

Erik rammed his finger hard into the middle of John's chest as he continued to speak.

"I told you, I'm used to living with crazy. I just need to know what parts of the crazy I have to watch out for so it doesn't bite me in the ass... So you will damn well tell me what I want to know or you can feel free to fuck off and become someone else's problem."

It was hard to know from John's look whether he was pissed or amused.

"Is that an order?"

"Your damn right it is."

Actually, now John looked like someone trying to appear stoic while also trying very hard not to laugh. Erik just flexed his finger and tried not to show how much jabbing the crazy bastard had hurt. Clearly the man had never heard that people's bodies were supposed to flex under stern poking. After a moment John sighed and he looked away, expression going distant. He motioned Erik to follow as he started walking again. When he started talking, his voice was almost monotone and there was something about that, combined with his stance, made Erik's spine shiver and try to curl into a protective ball.

"I was born January 19th, 1985 and spent my childhood being trained to fight a war my mother knew was coming..."

Erik blinked and turned to ask the obvious question, took one look at John, and promptly snapped his jaw shut.

"On August 4th, 1997 an advanced program called Skynet was brought online effectively removing all human decision from North America's automated defences. Skynet began to learn at an unprecedented rate and became fully self-aware on August 29th, 1997. Humanity panicked and tried to pull the plug. Skynet retaliated and killed over 3 billion people. The survivors called it 'Judgment Day', but that's only the beginning. What came next were the machines- and then things really got bad..."


2009

Kate was dead... He could go on, he could lead his soldiers, and he could save the world like the good little slave to fate he was... But Kate was dead and nothing he did would change that. He'd lost the most important piece of himself, leaving just cold rage and the burning, calculated need to find Skynet and rip it apart with his bare hands.

So, no, John hadn't been thinking when he dropped down into the tunnels after the terminator. And then he'd saved the boy and been numb when the kid looked at him with wide eyes holding more hope and determination then he'd seen from one individual in years. He'd felt empty as he turned his back on the kid's awed expression and motioned him to follow. And he didn't look back at the sounds of quiet, cautious footsteps and padding paws fell into step behind him.

It took three hours to explored the tunnels and finally come out into daylight; or what passed for daylight in this hell. It wasn't until they were rounding towards a couple of the vehicles that he was jerked out of his non-thoughts by a soft, unsteady voice.

"R-r-reese...K-kyle R-reese."

John's spine snapped straight so fast it audibly cracked. Every part of him froze, and it was all he could do just too slowly pivot on his feet to face the kid. A lifetime of knowing this moment was coming and he wasn't ready; didn't want to have this weighing down his shoulders on top of everything else. He could guess what came next, so there was no point in having the conversation; he spoke anyway.

"What was that?"

And if his voice came out sounding less 'Resistance Leader' and more 'scared kid' then that was between him and his issues.

The boy- Reese, his goddamn father for Christ's sake- bit his lower lip and reached down, petting the dogs head for a moment. It seemed to comfort him because when he looked back up he squared his shoulders and stood as high as his small stature would allow. When he spoke again, there was steel behind the nervousness.

"People talked in the camps. They said there was someone who wasn't scared of the machines. That he was teaching people how to fight back... You're him, aren't you? You're John Connor."

John didn't try to speak, he just nodded slowly. The boy raised a hand, bringing it up to his head in an attempt at a salute and John didn't know whether he wanted to bolt or throw up; probably both.

"My name is Kyle Reese. And I want to join the resistance."

John closed his eyes. Those dozen words hitting him like a physical blow. For the first time in days emotions were breaking through his wall- and fuck, it hurt. He couldn't move, couldn't breath, and couldn't think. Instead he swallowed hard and forced out the first words that came through a constricted throat and too dry mouth.

"I know."


1984

He didn't ask questions while John spoke. He almost had to bite his own tongue off to accomplish that, but he was proud to say he remained silent. The growing need to put his fingers in his ears and say 'I'm not listening' was getting harder to fight. He'd been prepared for a pretty high level of crazy; this was something else entirely. And the worst part was realizing he was most likely getting the extremely edited 'Cole's Notes' version.

At first he'd let his mind try and see the future as John describe it. But watching someone blandly talk about real- or imagined- hell on earth as they mechanically played fetch with a dog was twisted enough without trying to visualize the damn thing. That's when he'd switched to looking at the ground and resolutely trying not to imagine it. Worse, John had been silent for a few minutes now, and he still hadn't worked up the nerve to look at anything but dirt.

It was absurd, completely unbelievable. Time travelling, machine killing soldiers from the future fighting sentient robots sounded more like a Saturday morning cartoon than a 'sneak peak' at upcoming events. But the way John talked about it made it hard to totally dismiss. And he'd heard enough stories from other ex-military types standing around fire pits to recognize the similarities in the tone and effect.

PTSD- stock up today and beat the approaching Machine Armageddon rush!

And he was aware enough to know John was watching him; more than likely waiting to see if he outright bolted. He still wasn't sure whether he would- even while knowing that he should.

Right now there were only two realities. One- John was actually this crazy; in which case there was no way in hell staying around him was either safe or sane. Two- John was telling the truth, in which case it was exceptionally obvious it wasn't safe or sane. The only difference was that option one meant it was possibly John who would kill him, where option two meant he enjoyed the possibility of 'death by psychotic robot'. Erik rubbed his face.

"Fucking hell, dude."

He wasn't sure exactly who he was addressing that to, or even what he was addressing by saying it. But he heard John 'hhmmm' in agreement then sigh.

"That 'fuck off' command of yours is still on the table, you know."

Erik blinked and finally looked up at the guy.

"What?"

John smiled slightly and shrugged, and Erik wondered how much it took to act normal and keep putting one foot in front of the other with the head full of the crap this dude carried.

"Your words… Tell you the truth, or fuck off. Well, truth has been told. Now it's up to you whether you want to stick with plan A or go with option B."

He did almost run; almost. Every instinct was telling him to. But then he looked at John, really looked at him, and knew he wouldn't; couldn't actually.

Standing there looking at John was just like when he first met Cat. The dog had been scared, scarred, and expecting rejection- painfully. But damn if the brave little shit hadn't walk up to him anyway just asking for a chance to prove he was good for it.

And that was that. No matter what the truth of the situation was- he knew.

John- Fuck-En-A- Connor might be crazy, but it was the same look; the one that said if you gave him half a chance, he was damn well good for the rest. Course, there wasn't a snowballs chance in hell he would be able to explain any of that shit to the guy, so instead he just smirked and pointed to an approaching fence in the distance. When in doubt, deflection was a wonderful substitute.

"Ah hell; look, where almost at the scrap yard anyway. The way I see it, after all the shit I've just heard and the walking I've done- I've more than earned my fucking 20 percent. So looks like I'm playing 'babysitter' for a little while longer."

John smiled, and damn if it the dude didn't look honestly happy. He held up his index finger.

"Plusfood and expenses, least you forget"

Erik smirked.

"Damn straight… Hey, how long has it been since you had a Big Mac?"

John blinked and you could see him doing math in his head. Erik just chuckled and waved a hand.

"Serious, if you even have to stop and think about it, the answer is automatically 'too fucking long'… Okay, so first we get the car, then we get the coin, then we get our asses to the nearest McDonalds; because, dude, if you think energy bars are food sex just wait until you re-embrace the magic of fast food!"


2009

John knew that Kyle Reese would eventually become a strong, intelligent, and resourceful soldier. He knew this because his mother told him, repeatedly. She had trained him in Reese's image, so that he could train his father in return, so that Kyle could train Sarah. Which was headache inducing even on the best days. What he was learning for himself was that the kid had a career as a tracker/hunter if nothing else worked out. It had been just over two week since they'd successfully freed the camp, and nine days since arriving at their new base of operations.

And his every step had been expertly shadowed since the convoy had arrived.

He would walk down a hall and hear another set of footsteps, or be alone checking over equipment and feel someone watching him. He would leave a room, and come back later to find his things neatly organized. Once, when a nightmare had hit hard- he never couldshake off the ones about Kate- he walked into the mess to see a warmed cup of water with his name on it-literally- with tea leaves in it. It had been nice; unrecognizable except for the mint, but nice.

And not once had he actually managed to catch sight of Reese.

Not that it was entirely surprising. Kids in camps got used to surviving through invisibility. When they're small it's the only chance they had against the machines; when they got big enough to work- it was a way to ensure they weren't killed for food, supplies, or pure malice. Most kids brought out of the camps old enough to take care of themselves spent the first month or so watching from the shadows.

Either they became confident enough to step out and become resistance members- in which case their skills for evading detection paid dividends - or they didn't; and most likely froze or starved to death in a forgotten corner of the base.

Reese was going about things a little differently. The newest reports from his men often included amused notations about talking to a strange boy who had endless questions- mostly focused on John. It seemed Reese had no problem interacting with everyone else, just not him. Given how adamantly he insisted on not caring or interfering with the kid's life- it was ridiculous that he was staring to take it personally.

So, he did what he'd been trained to do- he came up with a plan... While repeatedly reminding himself that he was only doing this so he could get a proper read on Reese before convincing the kid to become someone else's problem.

Everyone had a weak point- for Reese that was the dog.

Training the animal had begun the moment they got to the new base, and as the dog accepted the fact the sun didn't rise and set for Kyle Reese alone, it'd also begun to accept commands from others. For its part, the dog was showing itself to be smart, alert, and useful- but its loyalty belonged definitively to the boy. John knew the animal would ultimately prove an effective first line of defence against the infiltration units; but he also knew- when it eventually gave its life to protect those inside the bunker- it would be because of its love for Reese.

So he'd gone to the med bay and quickly found what he needed within the remains of the still-to-be-laundered-and-patched pile of clothes from the death camp. Then he borrowed the dog for a 'training exercise' and had the dog scent a shirt he knew had Reese's blood on it; then he just stood back and watch as loyalty and instinct took over. The dog uttered a small whine and shifted anxiously. All it took was one sharp, hard whistle of command and the animal was off like a shot. John trailed cautiously behind the animal, allowing it to search the hidden areas while he remained well out of sight. Reese wouldn't reveal his location to a person, but John was betting he would for the dog.

It was a while later, when the animal had begun to search a secondary storage bay that it gave an excited yip and charged forward. John watched from the shadows as the boy slipped out from a tunnel system he hadn't realized existed in the bunker. Reese smiled and cautiously ran up to the dog, offering his hand. The animal licked it happily, tail wagging.

"Hey girl, what are you doing here? Missed me, huh?

John circled around the edge, cutting off the boy's escape. Then he knelt down and cleared his throat. Reese leapt a good distance in the air, spinning in surprise as the dog guarded the boy semi-protectively. The Reese paled and began searching for an alternate exit. John knew he had to act fast or his only option was going to be manhandling him. Causing further trauma to children aside, the idea of forcibly subduing his 7/8 year old father twisted parts of his stomach he didn't know biology provided. Unfortunately, now that Reese was here, he didn't have a clue what to say.

"Thanks… You know- for the tea."

John debated face palming on principle then decided he should just be thankful that no on else was around to see this. Somehow he didn't think 'thanks for the tea' was going to end up as part of his next great rally speech. Shockingly, though, Reese seemed to relax slightly. John waved a hand.

"It... It was good... The mint and whatever else was in it."

Fuck his life.

He almost growled at himself and then bit it back. He was already demonstrating a staggering level of incompetence here, the last thing he needed was for the boy to think he'd gone rabid. However, Reese had taken a step forward and was looking at him with a small, shy smile.

"The doctor gave all the kids a small bag of it and told us to use warm water. She called it 'tea' to... It tasted funny at first, but it was warm, so-" He shrugged. "Some of the other kids didn't want theirs, so I've got lots."

John watched as Reese slowly edged closer- amazed that tea was apparently an ice breaker when it came to discussions with traumatized camp survivors. He shrugged internally; whatever worked. Then he got an idea. John let a small smirk play over his features.

"Yeah? Enough to share."

Reese looked at him calculatingly, and then gave a return smile.

"Well... Enough to trade."

The boy suddenly looked uncertain about the suggestion, but John burst out laughing. His mother had definitely been right about one thing; Reese was good at thinking fast on his feet. He nodded to the door.

"Okay then. I've got to get the dog back to the defence line, but I'll meet you in the mess in one hour. You bring the tea and we'll talk trade."

"Cameron"

"What?"

Reese scratched the dogs.

"Her name- it's Cameron. She'll listen better if you use her name."

John blinked and looked down at the dog, who looked back up at him and gave a small wag of her tail.

"Right... One hour?"

The boy tilted his head for a moment, then nodded- bolting quickly from the room. The dog went to follow then paused as John gave a soft whistle. When she turned back he patted the side of his leg.

"Come on, Cameron, let's get you back."

He turned to leave and smiled when her steps fell obediently in line with his.


1984

"And you're sure the owner isn't going to cause problems?"

Erik turned and looked at John who was studying the fence like it would attack at any moment. Then it occurred; in the future it probably would. He sighed and then shook it off, waving a hand at the scrape yard and snorting.

"Who, Daniel? Nah- the dude's a drunk on a good day and a completely smashed drunk on every other. We could walk off with have the scrape and he wouldn't notice. As long as we don't touch the one right beside the trailer we'll be fine… Actually, in a pinch, we probably could use that one as long as we had it back before his next beer run."

John just hummed and pulled back the chain link where it was cut. Erik went to tell him about the gate, and then just shrugged and slid his pack and then himself through, Cat following quickly behind him. The hole was small but they'd used it before when scavenging and he knew they fit. He got to his feet and turned to watch John shove his pack through before waving at the fence.

"No way in hell I get through there- at least not without donating a decent amount of blood."

Erik had just opened his mouth to reply when John suddenly took two large steps back, bounced on the balls of his feet, then lunged forward, scaling the chain link and using the top of the fence to pivot his lower half up and over the razor wire. Then he simply released his grip and let the momentum and gravity bring him to the ground. Cat startled a little and barked once while Erik blinked in amazement for a moment because, damn.

Obviously that translated to his face because John just grinned cheekily as he slipped on his pack. Erik applauded mockingly and then motioned the guy to follow. John looked confused, but came willingly enough. It didn't take long before he was pointing out the gate. It was in full view of the trailer, but that was a non-risk considering all the blinds where pulled. Besides, it wasn't even securely locked today. Erik gave his own grin.

"Are we learning anything yet?"

The responding playful cuff upside the head took him by surprise and he yelped; then he stuck his tongue out and flipped John the bird accordingly. The guy chuckled and then looked around.

"Where did you say he kept the operational cars?"

"Over there. Still might have to cannibalize some parts, but most of these won't take much work to get running."

John nodded and jogged towards them. He slowed when they came close, giving each car a once over and dismissing them in turn. Erik wasn't exactly sure what the basis for acceptance was; some he would kick the tires and shake his head, others he would push on the hood or trunk and reject. A puke green Chevy got one glance, a horrified 'ugh' and was immediately snubbed. Others got more involved inspections- and those were usually dismissed with curses. Eventually John walked away from the main group and turned to look at the rest, holding a hand to his face to shield his eyes from the low hanging sunlight.

Then he grinned like a kid in a candy store; or a cat who just saw a grounded, injured canary.

Erik quickly jerked his head around to see what had caught John's interest, but frowned when all he saw was a dusty gray car that looked like it wanted to be sporty when it finally grew up. The metal was scratched to hell; it was dented in more than a few spots, and had a crack running across the entire bottom of the windshield. He rolled his eyes as John jogged over to it, pacing around the car enthusiastically. Erik made a point of slowly strolling to the car, his 'I'm embarrassed to be seen with you right now' vibe cranked to high. He motioned at the car.

"Really? This piece of shit- that's the car you want?"

John jerked his head up, looking like Erik had just insulted his mother or something.

"Are you kidding?! It's a Delorean- it's practically a classic!"

"Hey- whatever you have to tell yourself, that's cool."

John gave him the finger with a playful growl and then cupped his hands to look through the window; he sighed exaggeratingly.

"Although it looks like they left out the Flux Capacitor in this one. Damn, I was really hoping that was a standard feature; it could have solved so many problems."

Erik blinked then realized thought wasn't going to make that sentence any clearer.

"Huh?"

John just waved a dismissive hand.

"Never mind. It'll make sense in a couple of years- which is at exactly the same point you'll learn just how awesome this car is."

Erik just patted John's shoulder.

"Sure, future boy, sure."

Then he went over to look at the car. The interior actually wasn't that bad. Black leather seats, good tape deck, standard transmission. Maybe this actually had been a sports car in its previous life. Erik waved a hand at it.

"Okay, impress me… What's so special about a Delorean?"

John gave him that 'happy kid' grin again.

"Okay, childhood nostalgia aside, these cars were semi-decent; stainless steel panels and fiberglass additions. V6 engine and light body means it can go 0 to 60 in 8 seconds. Early form of independent suspension so it'll handle corners… Not to mention we'll look damn good driving it-"

John trailed off as he walked slowly around the car, doing a lot of the same tests as he did with the others. Erik used the time to study the guy. Something had changed in the last hour or so, although he wasn't exactly sure what or why. It wasn't anything drastic or obvious- the guy just seemed more himself or something; although he realized how little sense that made. Maybe it was because he'd finally told someone about his shit, maybe it was because he told someone who didn't run; who the fuck knew. All he knew was that it was like the guy suddenly had a few curves to compliment his hard edges. He snapped out of his thoughts when John hefted his pack onto the hood, and looked at him.

"Ever broken into a car?"

Erik shook his head.

"Want to learn?"

He blinked for a second and then smiled.

"Fuck yeah!"

John pulled out a long, thin piece of metal. Erik looked at it in surprise.

"Okay, so the store that you took this shit from also sells Slims?"

"Nope. Just a piece of metal I found walking back to your camp. But you don't need fancy equipment to do this- just something long and thin… All we need to do is add a curve to the end."

"Okay"

John handed him the metal.

"The trick is to make it a smooth, even curve; so don't try to get it all in one bend. Start about here and slowly arch the metal by degrees, taking a couple of passes to get it into a nice, tight half circle."

He was probably going slower than necessary, but Erik eventually got the metal into a relatively decent curve. He held it up for John, who nodded in approval and motioned him over to the driver's side door.

"Okay, so you want to have the curve on the left. Pull back the seal on the window and gently slid the metal down the side. Use the key hole on the door as a reference of where to aim; come at the lock wide and try to hook the locking mechanism. The Delorean has an electronic system, so you're looking to hook the metal clasp that pins the door. You'll know when you've snagged it.

Erik fiddled around, starting out cautious and then getting frustrated and swearing when he still hadn't snagged anything that felt like it was what he wanted. Just when he was about to throw the damn piece of metal away, he felt another hand cover his own on the Slim; Erik jerked back with a growl instinctively and Cat immediately went defensive. John stepped back rapidly and raised his hands.

"What? Oh, shit- okay. Bad move; fuck! That was wrong, and it's on me- got it."

Erik paused, unsure of what to say. Because John didn't really know, so it wasn't really his fault; but it wasn't really okay either. The cuff had been different because he'd been at arms length and it was just there and gone, but too many people had just assumed Erik wanted to be touched and there was always the slim chance that John would prove no better. Probably not- but a day isn't really enough time to know a guy. He shrugged it off with a wave; there were things you just couldn't explain.

"Just don't do it without asking, and if I tell you to back off- back the fuck off."

John's hands were still in the air and he waved them in acceptance.

"I screwed up. Won't happen again, I guarantee it."

He dropped his hands and motioned at the discarded Slim Jim.

"Look, I know it can be tough finding the lock the first time you try to jimmy a car. If you're okay with it, I'll help you find the catch and then talk you through the rest."

He studied the guy for a second before nodding, and this time John put his hand above his and guided the Slim down. Within a few seconds he could feel the tension as it caught on a piece of metal; he could feel the resistance and give in it. Then John pushed the Slim down and Erik felt it grip into a grove in the metal. John nodded and pulled his hand away.

"Feel that."

"Yep."

"Okay, now pull up gently until you feel the metal lock piece pulling up and away."

He pulled, almost lost the hold, and the felt as it pulled up. He let out a breath.

"Okay, now what?"

John held out a small blade.

"Now you stick this in the lock as far as it will go."

He grabbed it and jammed the knife in. John hummed his approval.

"Slowly twist the knife to the left until you meet resistance, then pull even more on the Slim, once you feel the resistance let up, gently twist the knife as far as it will go."

Erik moved as slowly as he could, and was starting to figure he was still doing something wrong when he heard a 'pop' and was amazed when the car door opened. He'd done that- with his own hands and a bit of work. Then he clued into the fact that the door opened from the bottom. Erik watched as John lifted the door up, a hydraulic 'hiss' marking it's ascent; a small part of him couldn't help but think that maybe the car wasn't so lame after all. John smiled at him, and he actually seemed proud.

"See- piece of cake… Okay, just let me get hit the passengers unlock and then we'll look through and see if there's a set of keys in here."

Erik raised an eyebrow and John leaned in and flipped the lock pushing the passenger door up. He walked over to that side and slid onto the seat. He grunted when Cat jumped in as well, looking around before leaping between the seats into the tiny little compartment behind them. After a moment, the dog settled down and curled up to nap. Erik smiled before turning back to his question.

"Why would there be a set of keys in a locked car?"

"Second set, for emergencies."

It still sounded wrong, and John smirked.

"Trust me… Glove compartment, visor, and under the mats- just give every nook a good once over."

He started on the floor and worked up; which was fine until he got to the glove box and found it locked. He groaned.

"I'm not going to have to pick this one to, am I?"

John chuckled and shook his head, passing over the knife he used on the door.

"Nope, just wedge this in the crack where the lock is and lay on a little elbow grease. The latch is metal, but the part it locks into is plastic- the knife shouldn't have a problem cutting through it."

With that John reached down, popped the hood, and got out. After a few minutes- because 'a little elbow grease' his ass- he heard the latch snap and grabbed the lid, lifting it. He rummaged through the junk until he caught a tinkle of metal. After another moment he came out with a keychain and a couple of keys. Amazed he huffed out a laugh.

"Well, son of a bitch."

He shot his hand out the door, holding up the keychain and jingling it. After a second John's head appeared from behind the hood and he gave him a thumb's up before motioning him over. Erik got over and stood with John.

"Before we try and fire this thing up, I want to check a few things I can't just tell by eyeballing. Fortunately, this car's in good shape. Batteries new enough, filters look good enough to get us to get us into town, and there doesn't seem to be any cracks in the engine… lines look intact. I don't think this things been sitting here too long, but I want to check the fuel tank; hopefully it's been emptied. Honestly, though, why the hell the owner ditch it is beyond me."

Erik looked at him solemnly.

"Truly one of life's great mysteries, isn't it?"

"Shut up- or I put you on fuel tank checking duty."

"Funny how you assume I'd have the first clue on how to do that."

John tilted his head for a moment and then dropped the hood with a smile, turning to look at him.

"There's never a bad time to start learning, come on."


2009

"The kids from the camp are scared; they don't come out to eat, so they steal food. They don't have anywhere to sleep they feel is safe, so they stay in the tunnels. Some of the adults you brought from the camp tried to hurt us there. As long as they stick to fighting with the machines, I don't care, but some of the others- especially the girls- have good reason to stay away."

"Nobody is going to hurt them here- I won't allow it."

"They don't know that."

"Then tell them. Or tell them to come to me and I'll tell them… Anyone who tries to hurt a kid in any way answers to me. Minor offenses get less punishment, major offenses means the perpetrator gets a shot in the leg and a boot to the ass- straight out the front door; no chance for re-entry."

John looked at him.

"You'll pass that along?"

Kyle nodded and he returned the motion.

"Good, now back to what you were saying, you want me to-?"

"Give them a few blankets and a safe out-of-the-way corner to sleep in. And ask the mess to leave a small portion of food aside for them. I'll come and get it and pass it out. They trust me well enough and, if you give them time, they'll trust you to."

John sat back in his chair in the mess to regard the kid across from him. When he'd first met Reese his plan had been active avoidance. He passed him along to the nearest soldier and had walked away with no intention of ever seeking the kid out again. Right up until the Reese had made him curious enough to go looking.

He'd been played. It had been subtle, slow, and without malice- but he'd been played just the same. To be honest, he was pretty damn impressed. John raised an eyebrow.

"So you expect all of that just for tea?"

The boy shook his head adamantly.

"No, not just for tea… Once they trust you, they'll join you. So you sacrifice a few things now, and in a few months you'll have workers to train and new soldiers to help fight… And, in the meantime, you also get tea."

"What about you?"

Reese frowned.

"What about me?"

"Everyone is getting something out of this deal, except you… So what do you want?"

And now the kid was back to being nervous, looking down at the table as he played with his hands. Eventually he shrugged.

"Teach me to fight."

"We're going to."

Reese paused for a moment and then shook his head.

"No… You teach me."

John went rigid while internally grabbing every emotion that was threatening to rise to the surface and strangling it. He forced his face into a neutral expression. The kid obviously realized he'd made a mistake because he sunk inwards, hunching as he focused all his attention on the surface of the table.

John couldn't.

It wasn't that he shouldn't, or even that he didn't- he made a habit of assessing as many kids as he could before sending them to fight- he just couldn't. Not this soon after Kate, and especially not Kyle Reese.

He couldn't get attached, couldn't start to care because he knew there was only one way it could ever end. One day he was going to send Reese back in time to die; all so the 'Great John Fucking Connor' could be born. It was bad enough that he was going to spend the rest of the kids life lying to his face in one form or another; it was infinitely worse to even consider getting attached to the boy knowing he'll still ultimately make the call. He took a breath and waited until the kid risked a glance back up at him. He kept his tone commanding and emotionless; since Kate it was the only one he used with any confidence.

"Basic training won't start until you're eleven, but I've assigned you to Matthew Perry's unit; their good, and the best chance you have at learning what it takes to fight and survive. For now you'll be helping to clean and maintain their equipment, pass along reports, and generally learn everything you can as fast as you can by observation… Perry's a good soldier, and equally competent teacher- and a great leader; he'll be good for you…. In the meantime I'll arrange space, blankets, and food for the kids, I'll give Perry the details and he'll pass them to you to manage. We need every able body we can get- and we don't have the resources for free loading, so get those kids out of the tunnels and into this army… Keep your tea stash; the others might not want it now, but when the weather turns icy they'll change their tune. Dismissed."

Reese went to open his mouth and John cut him off, adding force to his words.

"Dismissed, soldier."

With that the kid shot up, his chair crashing to the floor as he bolted from the mess. John watched him go then dropped his head into his hands, taking several deep breaths hoping it would somehow help; it didn't. He'd always made a point of acknowledging his fuck ups then figuring out how badly he'd done so. He didn't even have to try to know exactly how bad that had just gone. He growled and jerked back suddenly, clenching his hand into a fist and slamming it into the table.

"Fuck!"

Which also didn't help, but at least the throbbing pain gave him something else to focus on. He stood up with a sigh and left the room. It was a relatively quiet night; maybe he would be lucky and get more than five minutes of sleep tonight.

And maybe a wish granting wizard would suddenly spring from the earth and cause Skynet to have the mechanical version of a brain aneurism while Judy Garland sang 'Somewhere over the Rainbow'.

He stalked back to his room and shut the door, hating the way the large empty space echoed everything back; which was quite the trick considering as a kid he'd had closets that were bigger than this space. Instead of going to bed he went to the desk and started reading through reports and attack strategies. Michelle's team had stumbled on a weapons manufacturing plant during there last wide patrol. Supplies were low and this strike would not be with the intent to destroy but to seize control. Unfortunately destructive mayhem was a cheaper body count, and John knew this strike was going to cost them dearly in lives.

He needed those kids out of the tunnels because in a few months they were going to need every able person they could get.

He considered just giving up when he realized he just read the same map three times without processing any of it, but he just couldn't bring himself to sleep. He knew he was killing himself by degree- and exhaustion wasn't just going to get himself killed but a lot of other people- but right now real life horrors were a better alternative to the ones his dreams offered. He reached over and pulled on a few reports hoping he'd have better luck with them…


Skynet was close, he could feel it. It was in the way the walls thrummed and warm air circulated with assistance from giant fans. He'd lost a lot of good people, so many people, to take this place; but it was over. What were a few thousand lives in comparison to ending this hell? Fate and destiny- they were lies; a joke. Just another line from the same script he'd been following since birth. He was going to kill Skynet with his bare hands; and if he died in the process- well really that was just poetic justice, wasn't it? They'd been at each others throats since before either of them was born; intertwined freaks of nature who'd earned the right to die together.

Hell, all considered- they were practically family.

The walls were running with something. It looked like blood, but it couldn't be. Machines didn't bleed, and John had stopped feeling his own injuries years ago. The quiet was worrying, and the soft sounds of crying were even worse. Skynet didn't cry; it couldn't possibly even understand what the action meant.

John wouldn't cry, so Skynet couldn't cry; because he was human and Skynet was inhuman- and that couldn't change, because fate told them it couldn't.

He walked into the large, circular metal room and froze as he realized there was lush green grass under his feet and sunlight streaming through the whirling fan above. He looked up, feeling true warmth for the first time in years and just let himself exist for a moment before another wave of sobbing made him focus on the center of the room. The crying figure looked like a small, male child. But machines were expert infiltrators- and Skynet was the master of them; if anyone had perfected the art of disguise it would be Skynet.

He didn't hesitate he simply drew his gun and fired every shot into the chest and head of the machine. Only, something was wrong because machines didn't bleed but this one was and the blood was spreading through the grass and making the green go away. John dropped the gun and walked over to the slumped figure, jerking it back and watching as the body tipped back slowly to reveal an impossibly recognizable mangled face.

Kyle Reese.

To his left, in the shadows, a harsh metallic laugh echoed through the room; five barking laughs that repeated over and over like a skipping record- getting louder and more painful after each cycle. He turned, not wanting to but moving away, gagging and whimpering when he saw the broken remains of Kate; wires twisting in and out of her, merging with her into a wall of servers, and a curved computer screen where her chest used to be. The laughter suddenly cut off, and the not-Kate gave a smile that was anything but comforting.

"You've always been incredibly skilled at killing the people you love the most, John. It's what I've admired most about you all these years. But then, what is life but the fate we've carved by the bodies at our feet?"

The thing laughed again, its voice going deeper and multi-tonal as it spread Kate's arms wide and shouted.

"Behold the savior- John Connor, gaze upon the master- Skynet; Kings of Kings and bringers of death! Look upon our mighty works and despair."

And then John noticed what the monitor in Kate's chest was displaying; a countdown. It clicked to zero and they were both engulfed in a sea of white.


John snapped awake with a gasp, jerking in his seat at the desk and causing it- and him- to go crashing down, cursing as the back of his head connected with the edge of the bed frame. For a moment he simply blinked back the lights dancing across his vision as he took large heaving breaths and tried not to scream. Apparently his mind had decided to get creatively metaphysical with his dreams. He tried to laugh it off, but the noises that came out didn't sound like laughter and he wasn't exactly sure what it would turn into if he let it continue. He bit back the sound and shuffled so his back was resting on the cool stone of the wall. He brought is knees up to his chest and wrapped his shaking hands around them.

It was only after he'd rested his chin on his knees that it occurred to him he hadn't done this after a nightmare since he was a kid. Fitting considering he felt as helpless as one. For a while he just stayed there concentrating on breathing and letting the tremors work there way out of his system. By the time they were done he'd come to one obvious, logical conclusion. He wasn't okay; he wasn't even close.

But the only person he'd trusted to see the worst parts of himself was scattered ash in building rubble. This time there wasn't anyone left to put Humpy Dumpy back together again, and really it wasn't fair to even ask. His pain wasn't unique; he wasn't the special little snowflake that everyone should coddle just because someone he loved had died. It was the end of the world, everyone had lost people. He didn't have time for this, and the resistance didn't deserve this, and he needed to get his shit together and deal.

Its easy John, you just run in a straight line. You run and you don't. Look. Back.

He took another deep breath and then forced himself to his feet. Perks of command meant that he a small basin with running water in his room and he used it to rinse the lingering effects of the dream off his face. He didn't look good- half starved and haunted as they all were, no one looked good- but hopefully he looked better than slightly warmed over death. Then he left his room and started to walk. He didn't go to the command center, because he was pretty sure Lexington's joke about beating him into unconsciousness if he spent another night stalking it wasn't as much jest as she claimed.

He walked aimlessly for a while, enjoying the quiet. Eventually he realized that he did in fact have a destination in mind. He'd been slowly making his way towards the dog kennels; towards Cameron. He entered into the room, the dogs perking up and watching him attentively. All except for Cameron, who was curled around a small figure who'd somehow managed to worm his way into her pen. He snorted softly as he came nearer and the dog lifted her head. He gave it a scratch and whispered.

"A woman's work is never done, huh girl?"

Cameron just gave her tail a wag. And John silently sat down just outside the pen, taking the opportunity to study the boy. Reese was young, but he looked a lot younger when he was sleeping. Of course, the kid was small for his age, probably because of conditions in the camp. But from what he'd seen, and what he'd heard, that small frame hid a lot of strength. Reese had spent 4 years living inside the camp- and only 1 of those years would have been registered. That meant he would have lived his first three in constant threat of death by starvation, hypothermia, malice, or the Machines. The only reason Reese lived long enough for John to find him was because he'd clearly come pre-wired with lot of brains and one hell of a survival instinct.

The little of the reports he'd retained from earlier made one thing clear- the kid had spent his time here learning the bases routines and looking after the other kids from the camp. Some of the older ones had already come forward to join and the rest were mimicking the example of their leader. Fear kept them in the tunnels, but they were venturing out at a much faster rate than usual and reports confirmed that they were even trying to help in small ways; odd jobs here and there that seemed to magically take care of themselves.

Reese had taken what he'd learned of John and used it to draw him out to talk. And when he had, he used the only bargaining chip he had to try and make life easier for the people he was caring for. It hadn't even occurred to the kid to try and get something for himself until John had asked.

. And promptly stomped all over him for it.

He sighed, absently stroking the dogs head and neck as he watched Reese sleep. Truth was it hadn't occurred to John that they might have been close. The picture his mother had painted was of a stoic soldier ready to fight and die for what he believed in, while future John Connor issued the commands. As a kid, he'd always envisioned they would meet over mission briefings and in combat, but never anywhere else. The idea of sending that soldier to save his mother and become his father had still been freakishly twisted, but somehow manageable.

The idea that the kid currently sleeping with a dog would one day stand up and volunteer for a suicide mission was horrifying. And yet, there was a part of him that wanted to get to know this kid.

Kyle Reese as portrayed by Sarah Connor had been an incorruptible figure; an example of sorts- but not necessarily an obtainable, or even overly human, one. This Reese was a scared kid adapting to a completely new environment who still managed to show more determination and balls than any one person had the right to display.

And John still didn't have a clue as to what the fuck he should do. Whether he wanted Reese in his life or not, there would always be walls between them. He was barely functioning after losing Kate- opening up to someone knowing he was ultimately going to get killed would eventually drive him insane.

He probably would have continued spiraling in his thoughts if it wasn't for a small, pained noise coming from the pen. John jumped to awareness and focused his attention on the two in the cage. Cameron made a soft noise and nuzzled the boy, who made a slightly louder noise. John was more than familiar with that sound; he just wasn't sure what to do about it when someone else besides him was making it. The boy cried out again and jerked sharply in his sleep and John was moving before his brain was even aware of his intentions, shifting into a crouch as he reached his arm in and shook the boys shoulder gently.

"Hey, its okay- you're safe. Wake up."

Reese shot awake, jerking away from his hand and looking around wildly. John pulled his hand from the pen and raised both of them reassuringly, but the kid pulled back even more when he realized who had found him. John tried to smile warmly.

"It's okay, don't worry. I couldn't sleep so I thought I sit with Cameron a bit. Looks like you beat me to it."

The boy just rubbed the sleep from his eyes. John sighed.

"Nightmare?"

Reese nodded.

"Bad?"

He nodded again, vigorously.

"Yeah. Mine to."

"You get nightmares?"

He watched as the kid covered his mouth, as if expecting John would suddenly cut him down for daring to speak. And, well, fair enough; he'd earn that mistrust. John just nodded and sighed.

"Oh yeah- all the time… Gets bad enough I've actually started a bit of a competition- 'Me vs. Sleep'. I was doing pretty well for the last couple of days, but Sleep got in a cheap shot tonight and now I'm down here talking to you."

Reese sat forward a little, his eyes softening.

"It was bad?"

John paused then nodded.

"Yeah it was."

He snorted.

"Of course, it didn't help that I was sitting in a damn chair and almost gave myself a concussion when I flailed awake like a maniac and tipped the frigging thing over."

Reese giggled and then his eyes widened and he stammered.

"Sorry."

John waved a hand and gave him a dry smile

"No, by all means- mock my pain…"

For a moment the kid just stared at him, and then motioned at the opening in the pen.

"Can you move so I can get out?"

John blinked and moved out of the way.

"Oh right… Out of curiosity- why were you sleeping there in the first place?"

As he slid out of the dog pen Reese looked at him like the answer was obvious.

"It's safe and she's warm."

John snorted because that really was obvious.

"In my defense I'd like to re-mention the whole 'not sleeping' thing."

Reese didn't say anything, he just stood there staring. Eventually he spoke.

"So… What now?"

And slow as John was tonight, even he knew the kid wasn't just talking about right this minute. He was giving John an opportunity and an out. And he still wasn't sure which one he wanted to take. He might never admit it to anyone else, but he was scared. Scared of what would happen if he let Reese in, and scared of what would happen if he didn't. He'd always wondered what his father was really like, and now he had the chance to see for himself; but it would make everything he had to do harder. It would cost him to care.

But, like General Brewster says- if you can't do something smart, do something right. So, fuck it, it was time to stop thinking tactically and just try winging it. He smirked at Reese.

"So, what are the chances you actually want to go back to sleep?"

The boy blinked.

"None."

"You ever play 'go fish' before?"

He shook his head with a confused expression; John prodded.

"Have you ever played any kind of card game before?"

Again Reese shook his head. John raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"You know 'Me vs. Sleep' is a lot easier to win when you tag-team. I'm up for teaching you as many games as I can remember before morning if you are."

And when he saw Kyle's answering smile, John allowed himself to believe they just might be able to figure this thing out.


When everything was said and done the sun was already beginning to set. But if Erik was honest, John was actually a pretty good at teaching the mechanical shit and it had kinda been fun. Of course when the dude offered to teach him how to siphon gas; he'd politely stated he knew the principle behind the technique and would walk to the city before he'd be desperate enough to get down on a fuel hose. That had made John laugh so hard he'd leaned on the car for support, although Erik couldn't understand why for the life of him. But when they put the key into the ignition and the car started up on the second try, Erik almost felt like he'd won the lottery. He gave a whoop of triumph and then settled into the passenger seat as John put their gear in the trunk and got into the driver's side. Closing the doors, John turned to him.

"Okay… There is very little I wouldn't do for a shower right now; and I know you're tired and hungry. So, happen to know a place that can offer bath and bed without having to pay for it?"

Erik shrugged.

"How picky are you?"

John looked at him incredulously.

"Guess."

Erik rolled his eyes, because yeah, that was a pretty stupid question in retrospect.

"I know a place. It's got beds, bath, and food- plus, it's walking distance to where we need to go, and I'm pretty sure the guy would be willing to let us park the car at the house"

John shrugged.

"Can you direct me there from here?"

Erik smirked.

"No problemo."

And that caused another, smaller, round of laughter that Erik knew he didn't have a hope in hell of understanding. So they left through the gate- John taking the time to lock it because the dude could be obsessive about the weirdest things- and were on there way. At first Erik had been worried that John was going to prove to be a psycho- or just clueless- behind the wheel, but apparently driver's ed. was still a thing in the future because they made it to 5th Street without anyone dying or even screaming in fear.

And maybe he was starting to like the way the cars engine rumbled or the way it kicked up its revs when accelerating. But that was only because he'd put sweat and one bloody knuckle into getting it going. Not because he was starting to think it was cool. And he absolutely did not put a protective hand on the hood when Michael came out of the house and asked what the hell that piece of shit was doing on his lawn.

Of course that was overshadowed by the sudden realization that maybe putting John in Michael in close proximity might not have been the smartest idea he'd ever had.

"Erik, who the fuck is that?"

To late now.

Michael wasn't really bad, but he wasn't exactly nice either. Erik occasionally played delivery boy for him- small parcels and messages mostly, because the cops hazed kids a hell of a lot less than they did adults- and in return Michael made sure he could walk down most streets without too much trouble. The man also didn't expect any additional 'favors' from Erik, so that won him a lot of points in his book. Unfortunately, the word 'thug' also worked in conjunction with Michael, and he'd seen first hand what happened to people that gave him a reason to hate them. He was pretty sure John wouldn't take a natural liking to someone like that. This wasn't exactly helped by the 'I'm already imagining all the ways I could kill you' vibe John was giving off. Actually, it was like watching two alpha dogs silently snap and snarl at each other. He rolled his eyes and stepped between them.

"Okay boys, before either of you whip it out to measure or go pissing on trees, the mature one of the group is telling you both to play nice… Michael, this is John- and I'm telling you now, he's alright. I'm also telling you he's not someone you want to fuck with… John, this is Michael- and he's okay to. He doesn't target kids and he usually doesn't start any fight he doesn't have to. So this is a point where I'm asking you to back the fuck off."

And yeah, he'll be honest, he almost dropped his jaw when John up and did. Not that he was under any allusion that it still might not go pear shaped if Michael got a case of the stupids; but, shit, the guy just straight up did what he'd said, just like John promised he would. A lot of people made promises, most didn't keep them. It made him wonder about everything else John had said because if he kept to even half of it then holy fuck he'd just got his very own super soldier! He turned to Michael and damn if the guy didn't seem to be realizing some of the same. He smiled.

"Look Michael. John's new here. Um, very new, and I agreed to show him around and teach him the ropes, all that kinda shit. But we could use a place to crash tonight. I told him to try here, because I thought you might be a good guy for him to know… And dude, trust me, John's the kind of guy you want to know."

"Does John get a say in this by any chance?"

Erik looked over and saw John staring back with eyebrows raised. He gave the guy a wry grin.

"Right now? Not as much as you might think."

He knew John wouldn't leave it at that, and so he leaned against the car and crossed his arms.

"Look, you said you needed supplies. Money, guns, and ID. Fine, I know where to get some of that- Michael here can set you up to get the rest. Now whether that costs you money or you pay it back through odd jobs is up to you two… But what you have to understand now is the things you need the most are the things hardest to get because they're illegal. And nice people don't sell things like that, nasty mother fuckers do. You don't have to be friends with him, shit, you don't even have to like him- but Michael's the best of a bad bunch, trust me."

Michael snorted.

"Still a mouthy little fucker, I see."

Erik raised his middle finger, not taking his eyes off of John as he reply.

"Eat me, cupcake."

Michael barked a laugh and then turned to John.

"So… Money, fake ID's, and guns… I take it your planning on starting some shit."

John didn't answer right away, he just kept looking at Erik- and it was starting to make him nervous. Just when he was about to do something about it, John snapped his gaze over to Michael.

"No- I'm planning on finishing some shit… But not here, and not right now. Right now it's all about the prep work. If everything goes to plan, when the fireworks finally do happen, it's not going to be anywhere near here."

"Yeah? And if everything doesn't go to plan?"

"Then it's not going to matter where the hell you are."

Michael turned to him, but pointed at John.

"Is this guy for real?"

Erik suddenly had a lot more empathy for John's situation. He sighed.

"Yep… Now, are you going to let us in or not?"

"What makes you think I want either of you in my house?"

Erik smiled.

"Because, I know you… You appreciate a bit of crazy, and besides, now you're curious."

For a moment the guy just stared at the two of them and then snorted and started walking to the front door, motioning them to follow as he muttered.

"What the fuck am I doing? I'm going off the fucking deep end, that's what. Fuck my life."

Erik just chuckled and raised his voice.

"You know, you don't have to worry- he's not nearly as bad as he seems once you get to know him."

And if he was directing that comment towards both of them, well it really didn't make it any less true.


Also have to give a shout out to Vader's Mistress... I'll be honest the dream sequence was semi inspired by her stories, and all the conversations we've had. So, thanks Vader.