Disclaimer: I don't own the Terminator franchise.

Author's Note: Look who's on a roll! I updated Solace and Break! As usual, so sorry for the long wait; I know in the last chapter I promised it wouldn't be another month before I posted another chapter, and here it is almost two! Gosh, am I a procrastinator! Well, I feel really bad about never updating regularly, so I'm forcing myself to write another chapter in ALL of my stories -- you guys are lucky that T:SCC was the first one I went to.

I'm apologizing ahead of time, Mr. Artadi, because I feel that this will be another chapter that has you pulling out your hair and shouting "WHAT?!" at your computer. So, my apologies to everyone. Please enjoy. ^^

And this is who I am when I don't know myself anymore

Cameron watched.

She'd been doing a lot of that lately, when she thought back on it. She'd grown accustomed to sitting back and watching. After all, there wasn't a much else to do inside the post-Apocalyptic living quarters of the slightly-mad leader of a dwindling species.

She cocked her head, briefly occupying herself with updating her species records. Her last census informed her that there were still close to five hundred scattered around the former Los Angeles area, but she knew these records to be dated ― two weeks away from recent updates on her memory in a constantly-changing environment made the numbers old and thus useless.

Abandoning the search, Cameron's HUD returned to her previous focus: John.

With curious eyes she watched him as she had for the last week, silent and unobtrusive. He was hunched over his desk ― a now-common position for him ― with his bottom lip between his teeth, scribbling away on some scrap of paper or another. His face was dirty but his eyes were bright, almost feverish.

Cameron wondered if he was sick.

She would have asked him, but he wouldn't have heard her. He had been like this for the past three days ― focused, determined, writing and drawing away, making notes on blueprints and maps and never once slowing down. He seldom slept and hardly ate, which concerned her, but she didn't pester him.

This was mostly because it was an improvement.

After John had found her in the shower and had taken back the order he had shut them in his quarters. He changed the emergency access code on the blast door without telling anyone, even Derek (or especially ― Cameron hadn't decided yet), and shut them in. It was his remedy to keeping her safe, she reasoned. He wasn't sure what to do about the situation yet, so he would keep her locked up until he figured it out.

She supposed she should be angry about that, but she couldn't bring herself to simulate the emotion. She knew that he was doing only what he thought was right, and thankfully this time it didn't involve giving her poorly-planned orders, so she was all right with it. Plus, she was locked up with him, so that was all right as well.

For the first few days they hadn't done much but lie in bed. He didn't sleep much, and when he did it was fitfully, and Cameron would watch him toss and turn and sweat from nightmares and dreams. She would wake him up and he would cling to her and apologize over and over, and Cameron would tell him that it was all right, but it was never enough. He would lie awake after that, staring at the low ceiling, his brow creased in deep thought. She watched him then, too, and wondered what he was thinking, but she never asked, no matter how badly she wanted to. She didn't ask because she recognized the look on his face as he thought.

Grim determination. Whatever it was that he was thinking about, he was mulling through deep and thick waters and he didn't need to be distracted by questions. He would figure it out.

So Cameron sat back and watched. She offered help when he asked for it, which was usually by sending her a look of such blatant hopelessness that her only response was to take him into her arms and hold him. He whispered that he loved her and that he would find a way to fix it all, and she nodded and told him yes, he would.

But progress was slow, and there was a lot of sitting and pacing and muttering and staring at the ceiling.

And Cameron watched.

And then, nine days into their voluntary confinement, John had an idea. He had been lying on the pallet on the floor, staring at the ceiling while she ran diagnostics on her systems and had sat up so suddenly that it took her a moment to pause in her sweeps and react. Before she could move he was grabbing her and kissing her on the lips, and when he pulled away he was grinning from ear to ear and it was such a change from his previous doldrums that Cameron laughed.

"What?" she asked him, and he just went to his desk and began riffling through papers and maps and tech manuals, smiling all the while.

"John?"

"I've got it, Cam. I've got it." He looked at her and his green eyes were sparkling. "I'm gonna figure this out."

After that, he'd set to work, and he hadn't moved from the desk since. But since it was an improvement on his previous disposition, Cameron didn't question him.

It was only now that she began to worry about the strain his work was putting on him.

"John?"

The scratching of pencil on paper, the rustle of maps being moved. But no sound of acknowledgment.

"John?"

A grunt as the pencil flew across the schematic.

"John, you have been working for approximately three days, nine hours, and twenty-three minutes straight. Perhaps you should take a break."

He grunted again, but didn't stop his work. His eyes were still bright. Cameron frowned. Time to try a different approach.

She tilted her head and gave him a concerned look. "John, you're tired," she said. "You need to sleep, to eat something."

"I can't, Cam. I gotta figure this out."

His voice was rough and cracked because he hadn't used it in a while. Cameron stood and went to his desk and put a hand on his arm. John sighed and put the pencil down, then looked up at her.

His green eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and he looked more worn out than she'd even seen him, but the determination she'd seen before was still there. But he was tired, and anyone could tell.

"John, please. Take a break." She smiled weakly down at him. "You haven't talked to me in three days."

He looked frowned at that, and he rubbed his hand over his eyes. "You're right. I should…" But then his glance fell across his desk, and he sighed, picking up the pencil again and tapping the remains of the eraser on the paper-covered surface. He didn't finish his sentence.

Cameron smile fell to a frown and she followed his gaze to the papers. There were many schematics, and she recognized maps of the surrounding area and supply lists. What was he…?

"John?"

He jumped slightly and looked back up at her.

"What exactly are you planning to do?" She fixed her brown gaze back on him, curiosity mixing with apprehension.

The remnants of that first grin three days ago pulled at the corner of his lips, but it was drowned by a sudden furrowing of his brows, and Cameron became more aware than ever before of the wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes and mouth.

The image saddened her beyond words.

"Cam, I…" He looked at the papers, then back at her. "I think I've found a way, but…"

"But…?"

"But I don't know if I can do it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…I mean, I don't think… I don't know if it's even right, if we can even…" He gestured at the schematics, at the maps and at the myriad other wrinkled and stained documents lying upon his desk, and Cameron realized he was avoiding having to tell her something.

She frowned. "John?"

"I don't know if it's the right time or if I'm gonna mess things up even more or if it'll even work―"

She looked away from him and pulled one of the blueprints toward her, cocking her head slightly as she began to read the numbers and figures and John's messy scrawl next to them. The schematic began to appear on her HUD and her systems automatically searched out its faults and filled in the correct formulas and ratios. But she didn't need to look for long to figure out what he was planning. At once her head snapped to him.

"John?"

He nodded, knowing she'd figured it out, knowing she knew what he had in mind. And he could tell that it killed her as much as it was killing him.

Because after he'd come up with the idea, the reality of what he had to do set in. He hated it but it was the only way. He'd realized that he couldn't fix things without giving up one crucial thing.

Her.

Author's Note: I am ridiculously cruel... Plus, this was kinda how I planned on separating the chapters anyway, so there was gonna be a cliffhanger anyway! Please review!!!