(Author's Note: Yay, another chapter! And I bet you all were expecting to wait at least another month and a half for it. But no, Dakota had some - okay, a lot - of free time on her vacation, so she decided to write more! I have no idea what sparked it, but here it is, and I'm happy that I did manage to write enough for a whole chapter.

I had a couple reviews expressing concern towards the 'attempted rape' scene. Allow me to address them.

Metropolis Kid: Of course I feel empathy for the TV characters; that's why it was an 'attempted' rape. I would have NEVER gone through with writing an actually rape. That's just WAY too deep for me. As for dragging it out too far, I don't think I did. This is an angst fic, after all, and as you said, I need to set up future character developments. And her vision going fuzzy from being slapped? Yes, she's a Terminator. She's also a Terminator whose CPU was frying itself over trying to make a decision. Call it a side effect.

Alana84: John's order was that she couldn't harm them at all. Terrible of him to do, but the poor guy was off his rocker when it he gave it, so that's the way it is. So Cameron therefore couldn't really do much. Luckily she has some deeper running programs.

Thanks to everyone else that reviewed! Please enjoy this chapter!


And this is how it hurts when I pretend I don't feel any pain

"Sir?"

"Not now, Lieutenant."

"But sir-"

Connor looked up and gave the man standing in his doorway a hard look. The lieutenant shifted slightly under the weight of that stare, then swallowed and said, "Sir, I think you should come see this."

Connor highly doubted that and returned to looking at the papers laid out in front of him. The man in his doorway didn't move.

"Lieutenant…" It was a warning, and the young man knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but…

"Sir, it's about your – the Terminator, sir."

Connor looked up again. He was silent a moment, his expression completely blank per usual. And then he said in a low voice, "What about her?"

The lieutenant swallowed audibly.

"Sir, it's just… she's killed someone, sir."


In the years since he'd been thrown back in Time, Derek Reese had grown accustomed to flashbacks. Or flash-forwards; he was never really sure.

Time travel was a bitch that way.

A lot of the time, the memories (he'd stopped trying to label them as past or future) were of his brother Kyle, or about his former teammates; on occasion he even thought about his life before his first Judgment Day.

Lately, however, he'd been having the same instance replay in his head, over and over.

Sometimes they go bad.

The Terminator's voice was like a broken record, and he was having more and more reasons to remember those words every day.

As he looked down at the dead soldier in front of him, he was hearing her voice loud and clear.

Irony was a bitch that way, too.

"Sir?"

Reese didn't look at the man next to him; he was too busy wondering where in the hell she'd run off to.

"The General's on his way, sir."

"Fine." Derek stood, feeling his knees pop as he did so. Damn old age…

"I want those two-" He pointed to the two soldiers that had been found unconscious with the dead one, "—to stay here. Connor's gonna wanna talk to 'em."

The man nodded and went over to them. Reese sighed.

His nephew wasn't gonna be happy.


The identification said he was Communications Specialist Bryan Mackey. He had a wife and two kids.

John didn't give a shit.

He also didn't take the time to wonder why he didn't.

"I want you four to search the bunker," he snapped, wrapping the dog tag chains around his hand. "Find her and bring her to my office. She's disoriented and armed; don't do anything stupid or you're good as dead."

They hesitated, and John shouted, "What the hell are you waiting for? Go!"

The four took off down the hall; the rest picked up the body of the soldier and carried it off without prompting. John was glad they had. He didn't want to look at it anymore. He gritted his teeth and exhaled through his nose, then turned to the two men standing next to the wall with his uncle.

"What happened?"

The both swallowed, then one said, "He was drunk, sir. We all were."

John stared at him. "Skip the crap, Private. What happened?"

The other one – the one with the bleeding hand – said, "Mac tried to…" He looked at his boots. "He tried to rape her, sir."

If either of them saw the flash of fire in their General's eyes, they didn't say anything. But Reese did see it, and it reminded him of someone else.

"I want you to tell me what happened," John said, his voice slow and even. "What did she do?"

"Well, sir," the first soldier stuttered, "she just sort of took it at first, and then…"

"And then she went kinda… weird."

"Weird? Weird how?"

The second soldier shrugged. "I dunno, sir, she, well…"

"She started…"

John knew he was grinding his teeth, but he didn't feel like having more than one dead body on his hands.

"Out with it."

The first soldier's brow furrowed, like he was confused, and he looked his general in the face.

"She started crying, sir."

Connor fell silent; Reese saw that the man was shaking and he took up the questioning.

"What happened then?"

The two men looked a little relieved at no longer having to relay the story to the General. Not like Captain Parker would be any easier on them, but at least he didn't have the power to do anything really terrible to them. The second soldier spoke up.

"That's when we decided that it might not be a good idea, sir."

"Yeah, we told Mac to stop-"

"—but he just kept on going-"

"—and the machine, she started to freak out, sir-"

"—and then Mac went to, well, y'know-"

"—and she just sorta froze."

"Next thing I know, I'm waking up and Mac's dead-"

"—and the metal was gone, sir. We don't know where she went."

Derek was about to speak, but John beat him to it.

"I want you to check by the infirmary, get that hand checked out," he said, and his voice sounded weary and rough. He ran a hand over his face. "You're dismissed." The two men snapped to attention, then took off down the hall. Reese looked over at his nephew and frowned.

"You're startin to look as old as me."

And it was true: there were deep creases on his brow and dark shadows under his eyes, and his shoulders were almost imperceptibly bowed under – quite literally – the weight of the world. John sighed.

"This is bad, Derek," he said, and he looked near to snapping as he began to pace. "This is really bad." He ran a hand back over his hair, pushing it away. "We gotta find her-"

"Well hell yeah, we gotta find her!" Derek stared at him. "Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say something like this would happen? She could shoot up the whole damn place before-"

And in an instant John was in his face, seething.

"Shut the fuck up, Derek!" he shouted. "You don't even know-"

"I don't know? John, you don't even know what the hell's wrong with her!" Derek grabbed the front of his shirt. "So I suggest you find her and you fix whatever the fuck the problem is. Then you can get a move on fixing whatever the hell is wrong with you two." He sighed and lowered his voice. "Look, whatever it is, it's messing with both your heads. Fix it or I swear to God, Connor, there's gonna be Hell to pay."

He let go of his nephew's collar; John stumbled backward and set his jaw and glared. Derek had a dual vision of his brother and Sarah. It was like arguing with both of them at once. But he kept going; it was the only way you could've won with any of them.

"You gotta remember, John. You got the Fate of the whole damn race in your hands."

"Thanks, Reese," John spat. "I'd forgotten."

Derek glared back. "Just make sure you got your priorities straight," he said, and then he left John in the hallway alone with his thoughts.

They always did make the worst company.


John felt like he was choking. He realized that his hands were shaking and that he'd wrapped the dog tags around his palm so tight his fingers were purple from lack of blood. And then in the midst of a violent wave of anger, he threw the tags down the hall as far as he could, and fell against the wall. He was having trouble breathing. His throat was constricting and relaxing in spasms; it was like he was gagging and suffocating at the same time.

He was trying not to cry.

John slid down the wall and landed in a heap on the floor. Everything in him was pins and needles, knives and land mines. He knew he was taking too big a risk staying out there, where anyone could happen upon him. Wouldn't that cause a scene? General Connor, found curled up into a pathetic mass, crying his eyes out like an angry three year old. It would lead to questioning about whether or not he was right for the job, possible usurpation…

He slammed his fist into the ground and bit his bottom lip as hard as he could. Goddammit, he was not going to cry like a little kid. He was not a toddler that had just scraped his knee and needed his mother to make it better.

But what he wouldn't give…

You have to be better than them, she would say. You have to be tougher, stronger. You can't let them see you're weak.

Easier said than done, Mom…

But Cameron… oh god…

John's head fell back against the wall and his eyes shut. Raped? How could…?

But she'd gotten away. She'd gotten away, she was fine…

She'd killed a man.

John caught his breath and his eyes snapped open. He looked around instinctively; he was still alone. But god…

She'd disobeyed his orders. She'd killed someone. A chill ran up his spine.

If she'd managed to override one order, what would stop her from overriding the rest?

No, he told himself. You know her better than that.

But did he?

Stop it. She's Cameron. She's scared shitless and she doesn't know what's going on. She was nearly raped… He looked at the bloodstain on the floor and a monster inside of him reared its ugly head.

Bastard deserved what he got.

But a soldier was dead. The still-reasonable part of his brain knew that panic would ensue if anyone found out that he'd been murdered by a reprogrammed Terminator.

Never mind that that soldier been about to rape her.

Never mind that that reprogrammed Terminator was about as human as the ones persecuting her.

Never mind that John loved her.

Setting his jaw, he stood and looked down at the blood on the floor. He didn't want to imagine what had gone on. He didn't want to see her helpless because he'd told her that she wasn't allowed to harm any humans. It was his fault that she was somewhere else, confused or hurt or worse…

He had to find her. He was going to fix this.

If he didn't, losing her would be the least of his problems.


(Author's Note: Okay, I'm expecting some good reviews for this chapter! Lots of good comments! And please, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Now REVIEW!