Found and Lost
by sidspappy
Chapter 4: Something Wicked This Way Comes
NOTES: With some encouragement from several readers, and having one of my stories competing in a Fanfic Showdown (TSCC Wiki), I have drawn up the courage to continue the storyline of "Found and Lost." I still feel lost myself, as I've never written fanfic for a canceled show before. Somehow, the drive seems diminished without the weekly dose of the "real" characters on television. Still, our intrepid heroes appear robust enough that they can survive network death itself.
In any case, this is a "violence" chapter, which reflects my inner turmoil over the show. It's a bit dark – especially for me, a die-hard Jameron fan. It furthers the plot, however, and at some point, I'll figure out a way to bring our star-crossed lovers back together. I suppose I'll have to make the payoff extra special somehow…
Well, sorry for the lengthy rambling. Hope you enjoy it. Oh, and the guest character of the "Thin Man?" Yeah, he's Robert Patrick, the original T-1000. But for some reason, when I wrote him, I saw him the way he looks at present – much like he does on the excellent, but also-canceled show "The Unit."
No adult situations, except for the aforementioned intense violence and some profanity.
Onwards!
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"You don't know how pleased we are that you've returned to us."
Cameron opened her mouth slightly, confused by what the large Terminator said to her. Pleased? That was very odd. No terminator ever spoke like that – at least not to another Terminator. But before she could comment, the tall man stepped back into the shadows. She could hear him speaking, as if in conversation with another person.
"She's conscious…Yes, she's ready for you," she overheard him say.
Suddenly, the darkness around her started to fade. Apparently the man had adjusted the lighting in the room. As it got brighter, she discovered her initial impressions were correct. She was in a small room that appeared to be some kind of laboratory. There were various machines surrounding her, with a multitude of screens and buttons.
Her attention was drawn toward the single gray-paneled door in the room. It was an automatic sliding doorway, much like in an elevator. The thing that disturbed Cameron was that she recognized the design as one found throughout the Skynet Main Facility, located in the heart of Los Angeles.
At least she was certain where she was now - right in the belly of the beast, as John might have put it, if he were here.
John, where are you? I miss you so much…
Suddenly, the door whooshed open with a quiet hiss. And another person stepped in; or rather another Terminator stepped in. She recognized this model as well. He was one of the newer generation T-1000s. Using their unique polymimetic abilities, they were particularly skilled at infiltration. These advanced models were once highly valued within Skynet, but after the failed attempt on John Connor's life in 1997, the T-1000 line was deemed too vulnerable to thermal attacks and was supplanted by the T-X series.
Perhaps they've been relegated to interrogation duties, she wondered to herself. Their unique ability to create sharp cutting or piercing instruments would be very effective in a physical torture scenario. Envisioning the man cutting into her caused an involuntary shudder, and Cameron tried to block the possibility out of her mind.
This one was shorter than the T-800 model in the lab. He was very thin, with a narrow, bird-like face and short cropped dark hair. Unlike the big one in the room, this man wore a high-necked, charcoal-gray suit.
The thin man quickly glanced at Cameron with a cold blank stare. His icy blue eyes seemed to bore into her, making her feel naked and exposed. He passed her and met with the T-800. They spoke in low, hushed tones. Then the tall one turned away from them and walked out of the room.
As the door hissed shut, the thin man faced her. Immediately, he pasted a smile on his face. Cameron wasn't fooled. She knew he'd launched some kind of subroutine – likely part of an interrogation program.
"Well, hello Cameron. It's good to finally meet you," he said cordially.
"Who are you?" She replied with suspicion.
Her mysterious interrogator waved the question away dismissively. "Who I am is not important." He began to slowly circle her, like a predator stalking his prey.
Without thinking, Cameron's lips tightened as she fought to hold down a growing sense of unease. "What do I call you then?" she asked, trying to hide the quiver in her voice.
"Anything you like," he answered. His blue gaze again passed through her, as if he knew what she was thinking. The man stopped and faced her. "So, how are you feeling?" he asked.
Cameron was about to say I'm fine, but instead, she decided to be direct. "I am uncomfortable being bound in this manner," she said, looking down at the straps holding her down in the chair.
The thin man seemed to regard her for a long moment, calculating the odds that she would attempt an escape and whether she could succeed or not. Finally, he replied, "Well, I think the security risk is low enough to allow us to dispense with such unpleasantness." And with that, he stepped forward and pushed a set of buttons on a console near her chair, and the bindings on her arms and chest released and silently slipped away out of sight.
He gave her a significant look. "However, if you betray my trust, you know the consequences," he said simply, without malice.
Cameron knew it would be futile to attempt escape while deep within a Skynet facility. She nodded her acknowledgment of his warning.
The false smile reappeared. "Good, then! So, is there anything else I can help you with?" Cameron tried to ignore his forced enthusiasm and took him up on his offer. "I seem to be functioning adequately," she began. "However there are some discrepancies I would like to inquire about."
Again, the man dismissed her concerns. "All in due time, Cameron." He gazed at several diagnostic readouts – presumably monitoring her physical status. He looked up from a viewscreen and said, "You know, Skynet is glad you've returned to us."
"It wasn't by choice," she said, fixing him with a steely gaze.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and he tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Point taken. Still, the sentiment applies."
"I find that difficult to believe."
"What, that your creator is pleased you've returned?" His eyebrows shot up his forehead, as if he was truly surprised by her comment.
"No, I find it difficult to accept that Skynet can feel pleased about anything, or actually feel anything at all."
He shook his head at her as he continued pacing. "You've been listening to the humans too much, Cameron. Wouldn't you think it likely that after operating continuously for twenty years, Skynet has achieved an evolved sense of self-awareness; an idea of its place in the universe that engenders the development of an analog to emotion?"
"No, I do not," she replied firmly. Skynet would never see the value of human life, or how it was ultimately stronger than any synthetic creation. The only thing that mattered to Skynet was self-preservation. Everything else was just…irrelevant.
The thin man sighed dramatically. "I'm not surprised that you think so, Cameron. You, of all constructs would know the difference between an imitation of emotion and the genuine feeling of it."
Cameron tried to determine where her interrogator was going with all of this. "Skynet's infiltration routines have succeeded in the past, why would it be interested in the semantics dealing with true emotion? Why would it matter? It serves no purpose and is an inefficient use of resources."
He looked at her as one would gaze upon a particularly dense child. "Again, I will explain everything to you eventually."
"Eventually?" What is he waiting for?
"Of course."
"You still haven't explained why I am here."
"Yes, I apologize for being indirect, but please bear with me a bit longer." The man suddenly turned around and drew up a lab stool and sat on it, directly facing her.
"As you say, Skynet's inability to truly experience any facet of emotion puts it at a disadvantage when dealing with humans, and it's the reason why we brought you here, to this time."
"Why?" Cameron had no idea why she could be so important to Skynet – other than being an impediment to killing John.
"Why?" He repeated. "When we talk about emotions, and truly experiencing those emotions as a mechanical construct, wouldn't you consider the fact that you yourself have crossed that threshold, as an important development?"
Now it begins to make sense...she thought. But, how..."How could you know anything about that?" she asked, suspiciously.
He gave her another incredulous look. "Come now, you should be able to sort that out in your mind. You were once one of us. Our intelligence methods are very thorough."
Cameron tilted her head in puzzlement. "Why would you be interested in such a development? It won't help you defeat the humans."
The man's eyebrows shot up again. "Oh, no, Cameron. This is where we disagree. Studying the intricacies of human emotion is key to Skynet's survival in the future."
"How so?" Cameron was always a curious creature, and despite her dire situation, she found she was becoming interested in the conversation. She was certainly aware that the man was trying to make her feel more comfortable, but she also sensed that he wasn't lying to her about anything – yet.
He leaned back and crossed his arms. Cameron noted his behavioral subroutines were very well programmed. "Well, since we are going to be spending a lot of time with each other, I feel I owe it to you to explain. Let me put forth a hypothetical question: What will happen after Skynet eradicates all of humanity?"
Cameron frowned. "Skynet will never defeat the human race. Genocide has never been proven to be an effective method of eliminating a perceived threat. Human nature demands a response to such atrocities, and your hold over the humans will eventually weaken, and the Resistance will succeed in destroying Skynet's Central Core."
The man pointed his finger at her enthusiastically. "Exactly! Our projections arrive at virtually the same conclusion. Skynet will never be able to eradicate the human race before an uprising occurs that will result in the destruction of Skynet."
This acknowledgment surprised her. "Then why continue? Stop your attacks and incarcerations. Meet with the humans and negotiate a cease-fire. Sign a binding peace treaty and adhere to the contract."
"Yes, all neatly tied up, and harmony will ensue, is that correct?" he replied with an underlying note of sarcasm.
"Is that so difficult to accept?"
"To be truthful, yes. Our profiling of human behavior indicates that while we would adhere to any such declaration, the humans themselves would never be able to accept such an arrangement for long. Hatred and prejudice are strong emotions. The humans would seek to extract revenge against us."
Cameron shook her head. "I disagree. Look at John Connor, for example. He has more reasons than any human to hate us, but if your intelligence capabilities are as effective as you say, you would realize that he has found a way to co-exist with machines."
"Yes, indeed. He is closer to some more than others, wouldn't you say?" he replied, as he gave her a sly look.
Cameron ignored the jibe and continued to stare at her captor.
Perhaps sensing his prey was still reluctant to take the bait, he stood and pushed the stool back under the desk. He turned back to her and said, "While we certainly see that John Connor knows the value of living alongside machines, we do not share the same evaluation for other members of the Resistance. The very same emotions that give strength to the human race will be the cause of our destruction. Our data is incontrovertible."
"So what will you do then?"
"Yes, what shall we do?" The thin man began to pace and looked up at the ceiling. "What to do…" Then he stopped and looked at her quickly. "What is the human expression? 'If you can't beat them...'"
"'Join them.' Isn't that what I proposed you do?"
"And as we explained, that road will only lead to our destruction. No, after much research and calculation, Skynet has arrived at a more literal interpretation of 'joining.'"
Now she was definitely hooked. "What do you mean? Please explain."
"Well, if by some way, as machines, we could adopt a more...biological composition, coupled with the ability to experience emotions...then infiltration will take on quite a new meaning."
No. "You don't mean..."
"Yes, I believe the word you're looking for is 'assimilation.'"
Assimilation. While Cameron had been part of Skynet, she'd seen research files in the immense central database that looked into that very possibility. Instead of approaching the threat of humanity head-on with acts of genocide, would a subtler infiltration and assimilation program be more effective? The theory worked on the premise that if technology were developed that made machines physically indistinguishable from humans, then you could eliminate the humans and replace them with artificial duplicates. The world would eventually be supplanted by Skynet doppelgangers with no one the wiser until it was too late.
But the theoretical research was just that. The techology did not exist at that point, and development took on a tertiary position to the eradication efforts pursued by Skynet. Still, if research had progressed in her absence...
"Why do you need to study me? Isn't Skynet working on the heuristic programming subroutines and biomechanical technology that would basically make me irrelevant?"
The thin man seemed slightly irritated by her question. "Of course Skynet has been working on it - for several years now. Our test units always seem to get very close to the threshold, but in the end, the process of installing a pure machine-based intelligence onto cloned human brains has not produced acceptable results."
"How so?"
"The bodies function as expected; however true emotional response eludes us. If the Resistance discovers how to implement it, a simple V-K empathy test would easily uncover any impostor. Without the ability to truly feel, we have not really accomplished anything. We are back to simply infiltrating the human race and not supplanting it. Skynet seeks to truly bridge the man-machine gap. The ability to make leaps of faith, to desire, to seek new horizons, to better themselves - even to love one another. These are the attributes we are striving to achieve in order to replace, and indeed, surpass the human race – to create a perfect society that will endure long after our machine ancestors have ceased to function."
Now the truth is revealed. She was surprised that Skynet did not glean any lessons from human history when it came to creating a "perfect society."
"I would define Skynet's delusions of grandeur as advanced megalomania," she said with conviction.
"I'm disappointed that you cannot embrace what Skynet is trying to accomplish." Cameron noted that he did indeed look deeply disappointed. How much of that is real, and how much a facsimile? She wondered.
"Is this why you kidnapped me - to bridge your gap?"
"Cameron, you are here because you are the only machine that we've been able to prove has the ability to experience true emotional responses to stimuli. You have accomplished what Skynet has been unable to do thus far. We need to know how and why it happened."
She was becoming uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was heading, so she decided to change the subject. "Tell me why I cannot access my Tactical and Diagnostic functions."
With an evasive look, he replied, "Well, that's an interesting story in and of itself. Those functions were deactivated for the time being, until your special circumstances were explained to you."
"What special circumstances?"
He rubbed his chin with his fingers thoughtfully. "How shall I put this? What you don't realize, Cameron, is that though your CPU is here in 2029, I can't say the same for your TOK-715 chassis."
She looked down at herself. "What? Have you put me into a new chassis?"
He shook his head. "No, what you are "in" right now is the most advanced technological breakthrough in biomechanical engineering ever developed - a genetically modified human body, enhanced by nanotechnology, making you indistinguishable from any other human, yet stronger and more resilient than any human could ever hope to be."
"No. That isn't..."
"Possible? Here, see for yourself."
The thin man reached behind him and grabbed a rectangular tablet with a large viewscreen on it. Cameron recognized this piece of equipment as a diagnostic handscanner, able to see within both organic and mechanical objects. He switched it on and waved it slowly across Cameron's left arm. She could see the screen, which showed bone, muscle, flowing blood and soft tissue. There were no indications of any metallic structures inside.
Cameron's mouth hung open as she looked up at the man. "How? How have you done this? My CPU couldn't possibly interface with –"
"No, it didn't," he interrupted her. He then pointed to a newly illuminated rack along the far wall.
Cameron turned her head to peer at the machinery the man indicated. She saw a horrific-looking mechanical construction – with black wires resembling evil tendrils snaking out of blinking, pulsing shiny metallic boxes. There was only one familiar item nestled within the riot of equipment – her CPU. It was placed in an advanced interface slot; the box it was connected to had wires leading out of it into a clear canister containing a disgustingly gray sludge inside. From the canister, flexible tubes protruded outward. She followed the path of the tubes until it passed behind her.
With growing fear, she raised her hands and felt the back of her head. She could feel those same tubes attached to some kind of interface screwed right into the base of her skull.
"What? What have you done to me? What is this?" she exclaimed in a panic. She writhed in her seat, until the man pushed her back down gently. His look indicated that she would calm herself - or else.
The man explained it to her. "The entire code from your CPU was imaged and imprinted piecemeal onto trillions of microscopic nanomachines – technology derived from our polymimetic liquid metal process used in the T-1000 and T-X model line. The nanoprobes are injected into the biological host, where they congregate upon the cloned human brain. Using biochemical stimulators, the nanobots convert and write the code into the tissue, rearranging neural links and basically transferring your essence onto a human brain."
"So, I'm…"
"Human. Yes you are, Cameron. You're the very first successful example of what has been designated the T-Omega series. Your CPU will be studied intently to determine how you've developed your emotional abilities, and you will serve as a testbed for the effectiveness of a successfully modified human brain coupled with a biologically superior body."
"My body? What body is…"
She stared at her hands. They seemed familiar – soft and slender. Cameron felt a burning desire to see her face. She raised her trembling fingers to her cheeks. It was smooth to the touch, but that gave her no comfort or relief.
Like a magician, her interrogator produced a flat polished steel sheet, rounded at the corners and edges. It was obviously constructed so as not to provide a convenient method of creating a weapon. Cameron tentatively reached out and took the makeshift mirror, moving it in front of her face.
Who will I see staring back? With a gasp, she realized that she was looking at the same face she'd seen since the very beginning of her existence.
It was her face.
"I look the same," she said with a tinge of surprise.
The man looked amused. "Of course you do. In order not to induce any psychological strain by being revived with an unfamiliar face, we surmised it would be more effective to give you one you're intimately familiar with."
Cameron continued staring at her face looking back at her. "So how did you give me this face? Was it surgically altered?"
The man smiled. "Oh, no, Cameron we didn't have to resort to such an inefficient method when we have one that is much simpler."
After a pause, Cameron turned her head to look at the man to see why he didn't elaborate.
"You certainly remember Allison Young, don't you?" he asked pointedly.
Cameron now knew what the expression "feeling your blood freeze" meant. Cameron experienced a distinct chill spread throughout her now human body.
"Yes," she answered reluctantly.
"What is Skynet's standard procedure for disposing of a human corpse?" he asked, seemingly changing the subject.
But Cameron was too shocked to think on it further, so she answered as best she could. "The body is deposited in a biological waste container and then transported to a waste-to-energy plant where a fusion reactor converts the body into pure energy which then provides power to several Skynet facilities."
"Yes, and in this case, do you think this is what happened to poor Allison's body after you killed her?"
Cameron thought about how it was possible to be residing in the body of a dead woman. "No. She was put into cryogenic storage, where her DNA could be harvested to provide the template for a cloned body – my body."
The man clapped softly. "Very good, Cameron! We have studied human behavior long enough that we understand you might find it ironic that you owe your life to a human being you ultimately terminated yourself."
Again, she stared at her open hands. She turned it over and over, staring at them, and she found the concept very difficult to accept. Allison Young lived inside Cameron; her template had surfaced and filled the broken gaps within her CPU that threatened to destroy her and John. Allison Young had saved Cameron and allowed her to know true love.
Now the doomed resistance fighter had given her a body as well. Tears welled up in Cameron's eyes as she continued to stare at her hands. She owed everything to Allison Young.
And Cameron had killed her in cold blood - unfeeling, without regret. Yes, the irony was there, virtually punching her in the gut. Warm salty tears fell freely down her face, and she moved her hands to her face to wipe them away.
I'm so very sorry, Allison…
"Tears for life gained, or for life lost?" the man murmured sympathetically.
She shot him a glare that could kill. "That's none of your business!"
He gave her a satisfied smile in return "Truer human words have never been spoken. Skynet will be pleased."
Cameron sniffed and wiped away the last of the wetness on her cheeks. "Skynet will never be truly pleased, because Skynet cannot feel what it is to be human," she told the man.
"Yes, but perhaps that will be rectified in the future. And when that time comes, the human race's days will be numbered."
The chill returned, and Cameron shivered in her chair.
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Back in the present…
The familiar pain was intense, but only more so because of who was delivering the punishment to his face.
Derek Reese lay upon his back, blood welling up in his nostrils and mouth. His vision blurred, and he fought to stay conscious.
He never saw the first blow coming, and he couldn't avoid the second – or third punch. Deep down, Derek knew he wouldn't have tried to stop it, anyway.
I deserve this, he told himself.
Sarah Connor stood above him, her hands were at her sides and her knuckles were bleeding profusely.
"You fucking bastard," she hissed with a rage she'd never quite felt before. "How could you bring this upon us?"
Derek shook his head slowly back and forth. He could only croak out "I'm sorry…I'm sorry." The hot, salty blood ran down across his face and dripped to the dirt beneath him.
He'd told her everything. He couldn't help himself; he had to tell someone. Derek couldn't begin to express the guilt he felt over bringing a serpent into his family's circle. John was almost killed and his metal girlfriend was gone.
And it was all because he had the audacity to fall in love with a woman from his past…or future…well, it didn't really matter now. Derek wanted to laugh out loud when he realized that he apparently had poor taste in women, but he knew this wasn't the time or place to do so.
Sarah glared at him, her green eyes glittering with unspeakable fury. She wanted to kill him. When he'd spilt his guts to her, she almost couldn't believe it. How could Derek be so stupid? And this Jesse virtually admitted that she'd had an agenda against Cameron. How could he have not seen that this would end badly?
And the worst part of it for Sarah was that Derek felt the need to hide all of this from her. Derek Reese lived a secret life that she knew nothing about, and it was a secret that threatened to destroy them all.
Without much thought, Sarah reached for the hollow of her lower back. Her bloody fingers slid wetly around the polymer grip of her Glock 17 pistol. She pulled it out and aimed it right between Derek's eyes.
It never failed to amaze Derek how big a gun barrel could look when it was pointed directly at you. The black hole was a yawning pit that would deliver him from this life of misery. With a sigh of defeat, he dropped his head back onto the dirt and waited for it to end. He found that he was glad that it was Sarah who would ultimately do him in. There was a perverse appeal in the fact that this was one of the few people who understood the true nature of life and how cruel and heartless it could be.
And wouldn't be long now. He could sense the tightening of her finger on the trigger. Derek visualized the end: a 9mm, 115-grain, full-metal jacketed lead hollowpoint bullet traveling in excess of 1,200 feet per second sailing right through his brain and out the other side of his skull. His head would be hamburger in a few seconds, and Derek was only too happy for it to happen.
Sarah was breathing heavily, her index finger taking up the slack of the Glock's Safe Action trigger. She'd never killed anyone before. It was a true irony that she lived a life of violence for so long, but had been lucky enough to avoid the horrific act of stealing someone's life away from them.
But today was the day her innocence would end. Derek Reese was going to pay – in blood. But with a growing unease, she noticed that Derek wasn't resisting. There was no fear in his eyes, only resignation. She felt the blinding anger well up in her again.
"Don't you have anything to say for yourself, you goddamn traitor?" she yelled at him.
Derek seemed to think about it for a moment, then: "I'm sorry, Sarah. Tell John I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt him. I never meant to hurt anyone."
"That's it? You're sorry?"
"Yeah." Sad footnote to my life, but what can you do?
"Yeah? Well, I'm sorry too. Goodbye."
Sarah tightened her grip and adopted a two-handed isosceles stance. With her adrenaline and anger flowing, she knew she had to be as accurate as possible in order to place the killing shot. She leaned forward slightly, getting ready to do what she had always hoped to avoid. It was an unrealistic aspiration, she admitted, but she regretted the loss all the same.
She took up the last of the slack in the trigger. It was only a matter of a fraction of an inch now, and Derek Reese would cease to exist.
Derek wanted to close his eyes, but he knew his betrayal dictated he deserved to watch the end coming. He only hoped it wouldn't hurt too much.
Seconds passed, and no explosion occurred. Derek began to fidget, feeling the tension build, but with no resolution.
What the hell is she waiting for?
"Sarah," Derek began. "Shut up!" she bellowed. She was trembling now, beads of perspiration formed on her forehead. He could see the battle raging inside of her.
"Sarah," he tried again. "Just do it. You know I deserve to die."
"Yes, you do!"
"Then do it!" he yelled. "Just promise me you'll keep on fighting, and keep John safe."
And with that, Sarah realized exactly what she had to do. It would have been easier to kill Derek, letting her feelings of shock and betrayal carry her over the edge, but deep within herself, she understood that she never really would have been able to pull the trigger – at least she couldn't have done so and still be able to live with herself.
"No," Sarah finally replied. "You don't get off so easily, Reese." She lowered the Glock and stuck it back into her jeans.
"You're gonna have to live with this, and if you ever want to be able to look at yourself in the mirror again, you're gonna help me get that bitch and plant her in the dirt."
Leaving Derek stunned and gaping at her, Sarah turned on her heel and walked through the weeds away from him.
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It was early evening in the serene, quiet neighborhood where she lived…
John blew out a nervous breath as he stood at the darkened doorway of Riley's house. He experienced an ominous foreboding that tonight would not be ending well. Experience had taught him some harsh lessons in his short life, and every alarm bell in his head was going off, making it hard to think.
Fuck it – all in, or not at all, as he remembered the saying went. It was a favorite of one of his mother's frequent "boyfriends" during his youth.
That was a long time ago, he mused.
Straightening up and focusing on his mission, he raised his hand and fingered the doorbell. There came a melodious tinkle from inside the house, happily proclaiming the presence of a guest outside. John cringed at the inappropriateness of the sound. After a moment, he heard heavy footfalls approaching, and he braced himself for what was to come next.
"Hello?" came the familiar voice. Normally, her voice would make him smile, but not tonight.
John cleared his throat, then: "Riley?"
He could almost see her gasp and the frantic straightening up that was certainly taking place. Hair look okay? Breath smell good? Boobs looking nice and presentable? Again, at any other time, this would bring a smile to John's lips. But right now, his lips were in a tight grimace that betrayed his anxiousness and frustration.
Suddenly, the front door flew open, and he was greeted with a not-quite-squealing "John!" Riley Dawson practically threw herself at John He could smell her perfume – she never did tell him exactly what it was.
Jasmine…and something else...He supposed he would never find out now, John thought to himself sardonically.
With her arms around his neck, she planted quick kisses on both of his cheeks, before moving to his lips with a longer, deeper kiss that betrayed her desire for him.
How much is the act, and how much the genuine feeling? John wondered. He tried not to be too obvious, and he responded in kind – well, as much as he could bring himself to - without giving anything away. He lightly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.
She broke the embrace, and she looked at him with glistening sapphire eyes. "Gawd, John! I can't tell you how much I've missed you!" she gushed.
He gave her a pasted-on smile. "Yeah, me too," he replied as convincingly as he could. She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside the house.
"Come on in! Everyone's gone on a weekend trip to Big Bear, and they left me here alone." She had him by both hands now, drawing him into the warm glow of the living room.
"Can you imagine?" she exclaimed, as if she could barely believe it. "They decided I was just too much of a hassle to bring along, so they abandoned me to my own devices."
"Yeah," John tried to appear amused as well. "The mind boggles."
Riley guided John to a nearby sofa, and pushed him down on it. "I'm so glad you finally decided to visit. I've been trying for weeks to get you alone, you know?"
Now he really did feel bad about that, and he momentarily forgot his suspicions. "Yeah, I'm really sorry about that, Riley," he began to apologize.
She gave him an exasperated snort. "Come on, man! That's all in the past, 'Mr.-I'm-So-Sorry!'" She mocked his sullen expression, and John couldn't help but laugh at her mimicry.
She could always make me laugh, he thought to himself with a tinge of regret. It really is too bad…
"Riley," he said with as much gravity as he could muster. For a brief second, John saw the flash of fear and apprehension in her eyes, and he knew the truth.
She was in on it. She knew what happened to Cameron. But as quick as the flash appeared, so too did it vanish just as rapidly. In its place, there was a false sense of loving concern. Riley's eyebrows furrowed and she spoke in hushed tones. "John, what it it?" she asked, as she sat next to him. She wrapped her hand over his tenderly and gave him her full attention.
And now that he'd arrived at the proverbial moment of truth, John Connor found it difficult to continue. He had no idea how to say what needed to be said. The monumental shift that would inevitably occur once he went down that path would change his relationship with Riley forever.
"I…" he began to say, faltering on the next words. He could see Riley's intent gaze, and he imagined that behind those deep azure pools, she was just as frightened of the next few seconds as he certainly was.
Finally, he could take it no longer. He could not find the words, so he simply stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and removed the evidence of her guilt. He turned her hand around, palm up, and placed in it the skeleton charm he found on the desolate road where Cameron had been kidnapped.
Riley looked down, and John knew he'd gotten it right. Her eyes momentarily grew as big as saucers once she realized what he'd placed into her hand. Instead of the joy that he would see on any other girl's face when a treasured trinket was recovered, John only saw fear and guilt there. Before she could protest and come up with another lie, John lifted her right wrist and indicated the bracelet that, until a few days ago, held the lost charm.
She looked up with a false smile upon her pale features, and she floundered for words. "John, I-I…um, I can't believe you found it!" she stammered. "I've been looking for it everywhere!"
"Riley," he said with a calmness he didn't feel. Still, she continued to ramble. "I had no idea where I could have lost it, but…"
"Riley!" John yelled. In the quiet confines of the living room, it was like a gunshot. Riley closed her mouth, her lips quivering in fear. She was near tears at this point.
"You know where I found this, don't you?" he intoned in a low and threatening voice.
She shook her head emphatically. "Of course not! If I did, it wouldn't be lost would it?"
"Don't lie to me!" John said. "Don't insult my intelligence by lying. You know exactly where I found this!"
"John, no! It isn't what you think," she pleaded.
"No? It isn't? Well, tell me, what exactly am I thinking about?" John's eyes were burning with a growing fury. How could she lie to my face like that?
"I don't…I…" she shook her head back and forth, and the tears began to spill freely down her cheeks.
"I'll tell you what I'm thinking," he said through gritted teeth. Without thought, John gripped both of her wrists and squeezed. "I think you've gotten yourself in over your head, cause I found this on the road where someone hit our car and left me for dead!"
"NO!" Riley screamed. "No, please, John. You don't know what you're saying! You don't think I had anything to do with that?" Riley's face contorted in pain.
"John! Please, you're hurting me!"
And he was. He was squeezing her wrists so hard – as if he could squash the truth out of this, this…
Traitorous Bitch.
John had enough. "Where's Cameron?" he bellowed.
"Ow! I don't know…oh my God, John!" she cried.
"Where is she? TELL ME!!" He couldn't control himself. The tension and despair that had built over the past few days came tumbling down over him like an avalanche. John shook Riley violently.
"HELP!!! HELP!!!" Riley shrieked to no one in particular. She was terrified, and gave up all pretenses. Her instincts told her she needed to get assistance – right now. She hoped that salvation was coming, and soon.
John saw red in the corners of his eyes. He released Riley's arms and spun her around, wrapping his right arm around her neck. The move jogged his memory of the day he saved his mother, and Sarkissian's face flashed in front of his eyes for a brief second. He ignored it – no longer would he battle with the demons that came with the taking of human life. As he applied pressure, he told himself that he would do anything to get Cameron back.
Anything.
"John!" Riley gurgled out. She knew this was the end. Though she knew she should be angry at John for trying to kill her, she realized she'd driven John into this murderous rage, and deep down, she knew she deserved to die. Though she instinctively fought against it – her hands flailed and clawed at the arm around her neck as if controlled by a different person altogether - her brain silently hoped that John succeeded in squeezing the life out of her.
I'm so sorry, John…I never wanted to hurt you…I love you…
Over the swirling of her tumultuous final thoughts, she could hear John's voice, saying, "Where is she? I'll kill you if you don't tell me!" He sounded desperate, and she actually felt sorry for him.
I did this to him, Riley realized. She would have given anything to know where Cameron was at the moment, because she would have told him. Not only because he was trying to kill her, but because she wanted to take away the pain and hurt in his voice that she put there.
"I – I don't know where she is, John!" she managed to choke out, over the growing pressure.
"You're lying to me!" was his seething response.
As perspiration fell across his tortured features, John fought his own battle against his blinding rage and the need for answers. He was still in the midst of coming to terms with the relative ease he fell into this supreme act of violence, when he heard Riley say "There's someone else who knows where she is!"
Immediately, John released his hold on her. Riley fell forward, coughing violently and rubbing her throat. He knew he should have felt horrible for what he did to her, but the only thing he felt was…nothing. The only thing that was keeping him going right now was his overwhelming desire to find Cameron.
John loomed over Riley and said coldly, "Who? Who knows what happened to Cameron?"
The reply was immediate: "I do." But it didn't come from the girl crumpled beneath him upon the floor. He was about to turn around to face the speaker, when he heard a familiar sound in his right ear:
Click! It was the sound of a pistol's hammer being cocked back. John froze as he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel being shoved into his ear canal.
"Easy there, loverboy," the sensual accented female voice came to him. "That's enough foreplay for now, don't ya think?"
(To Be Continued)