Authors note: I am a liar. I am a fat flabby fibber. I didn't actually take a break. When the story is in your head, sometimes it just has to get out. Enjoy these two chapters, and thanks for all the reviews.
John stirred from sleep, wrapping his arms around his chest to ward off the cold. He was laying on something downy and warm, but as he woke he became aware of the chill that had settled over him. His eyes opened on a small, dark room. He was alone, covered with a blanket.
"Cameron?" He said. His mouth was so dry that he barely made a sound. There was no answer.
Moonlight streamed in and pooled below the only window. He guessed he was in a hotel room. He tried to recall how he'd arrived in bed. The only image that came to mind was Cameron, with his blood on her hands, the sound of a gunshot ringing in his ears. Her fear infected him, and for a minute he thought he might be dying.
But no, he was only alone.
He heard a car pull up outside. The headlights flashed in the direction of the window and went out, and John heard footsteps coming to the door. John was aware of his sapped strength but tried to get up regardless. The door opened and he shifted his weight, losing the edge of the bed and rolling onto the floor.
She gave him a cross look and put her things down. "I knew you wouldn't stay in bed."
"Can I give you a hand Cam?" He asked.
She didn't say a word as she lifted him up and guided him back to the bed. Her hand wandered to his side and John saw that she had dressed his wound. There was a little blood on the sterile pad, but other than that it looked fresh.
"I need to get the bullet out. It's traveled under your right fifth rib, so it will be painful. Lay back down." The warmth of her hand took him by surprise. John was suddenly very aware that he was shirtless.
"What day is it?" He said.
"It's Tuesday. You've been asleep for twenty one hours."
"Good to know." He said. Truthfully he would have been better off not getting up. Every breath he took seemed to shoot pain across his chest. "It really hurts." He said.
"One of your ribs is broken." She said.
"Also good to know." He grunted.
"You should stop talking."
She left the room. John could hear her rooting around in the paper bags. He felt extraordinarily tired, but just as his eyes fluttered closed he saw Cameron hovering over him again.
"Roll over on your side." She said.
He obeyed, rolling so that he was facing her. The movement caused his eyes to snap open. He made out the sensation of the rib shifting as he moved and let out a small gasp of pain.
"God, remind me not to get shot again." He said.
"Yes, you should be more careful in the future." If John didn't know better, he would have said a dark look crossed her features.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
Cameron had been laying things out on the bed. She stopped and folded her hands in her lap. "You're injured."
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shake his stupor. "I got shot."
"This isn't funny."
"No it's not." He said.
"Your comments since my return tell me you find something amusing. I assume you're just tired, because people don't typically make light of these situations." There was no mistaking the inflection of her voice.
"Okay, I'll stop talking."
"Good. This will be unpleasant."
John mouthed the word 'wow' as he settled in, trying to prepare himself for the worst.
"Four." Cameron snapped.
"Sorry." He said.
She laid out her instruments on the table next to the bed. Among them was a pair of needle nose pliers, a bag of cotton balls and a small bottle of isopropyl alcohol. She had scrubbed the ashtray from beside the bed and set it out with her other things. The last thing she pulled out was a roll of thread and a large gauge needle. She poured a small portion of alcohol in the ashtray and dropped the needle and thread in, followed by the pliers.
John tensed as he felt her hands wander over his flank. He cried out as Cameron pulled the dressing off of his wound.
"Sorry." Cameron said.
"Was that…payback?" He asked.
Cameron didn't say anything, but he heard her rummage around in her bags. She pulled out something short and thrust it in his face.
"What's this?" He asked. It was hard for him to see in the dark.
"Rope. Something for the pain." Cameron leaned down to him. "I'm sorry. I couldn't get any anesthetics."
John couldn't suppress a shudder. He took the rope between his teeth and gave it an experimental bite. "Cah you thee ind da dak?" He asked through the rope.
"I see everything." Cameron said. "Prepare yourself."
John felt her lean over him and winced as she placed her weight on his side. He closed his eyes tightly as she tapped the knife on the edge of the ashtray. She moved over him, hesitated and then cut.
The pain of the incision was not the same as the broken rib. It was a cold, metallic sensation that reached all the way down his arm. He didn't move, he didn't breathe as she worked. She made only one incision, but her hand moved slowly, carefully. He only exhaled when he heard the knife splash down in the disinfectant.
Cameron wasted no time. She reached for the pliers, but stopped when she felt Johns hand close on her wrist.
"I know this hurts." She said. "I'll be quick." She said.
John bit down hard and nodded. Just a little more.
She guided the pliers down through the wound. It didn't hurt right away, not until she made contact with the bone. Then John understood what the rope had been for. He let out an involuntary moan of pain, which was joined by a full body shudder as he felt her lift the rib with one finger. He could literally feel the fracture. Resisting the urge to pass out, his hand went out and took hold of the first thing he could find.
"I've got it." She said.
He couldn't see it, but John heard the sound of something dropping into the alcohol. He could taste the copper in his mouth – his lower lip was bleeding where he'd bitten it. It took him a moment to realize his hand was gripping the edge of her bloody summer dress. He let go as suddenly as he'd clamped on.
"I'm sorry." They both said.
The rope fell from his mouth and John squeezed a tear from each eye. He looked up to her with what he hoped was a gritty smile. It felt more like a grimace.
"That's the worst." Cameron told him. "You're lucky he was using such a small caliber." She said.
The pain faded rapidly into a dull burn. "I guess if you need to get shot, small is the way to go." John said.
"If he was trying to kill you, he should have used something bigger. A .357 for example." Cameron told him.
John laughed a little, wincing in the process. "Yep, bigger is better." He took his hand from her knee with some reluctance.
"It's a .25 caliber. Unusual size."
"He seemed like an unusual man." John said.
"He is, you mean. He's still alive." Cameron poured a few drops of alcohol on his wound.
"Ahhh! God that burns. And it's cold." John said.
"Interesting contradiction." Cameron said. "This will hurt, but not as much." She leaned over him with her needle and thread. For a moment John wanted to stop her, but he knew what needed to be done. No sense in putting it off.
"Yeah, I've had stitches before." John said.
"From me?" She asked.
He was about to answer when he felt her push the needle through his skin. He swore a little with each stitch, counting three, four and finally five. Cameron tied the string off and dabbed around the wound to clean up. When the last of the blood was gone and she dried him off, she dressed the wound again, and this at least was painless.
"Ow!"
Mostly.
Johns mind swam from the pain. The room seemed to go in and out of focus but with some effort he brought his eyes back to Cameron. "Cameron I want to talk to you about Stillwater. About everything." He said.
She finished putting her things away. Everything she'd used was now neatly arranged at the bottom of the paper bag. John breathed a little and winced, wrapping his arm around his right side.
"It will take time for your rib to heal." She told him.
"I'll live. Listen, Cam, we need to talk." He said. "You said you had another dream? Like when we were in the desert? You never really told me what happened when you…blacked out."
"I didn't black out. I rebooted." She said.
"Good, that's good. You're right."
"I know what's going on inside my head John." For the first time ever, John thought she sounded angry, perhaps even a little hurt. "A little bit of it, at least."
Of that much, he was sure. "Cameron, what's bothering you?"
He'd seen that look once before. She furrowed her brow and for a moment John saw a girls face, and he saw all of the fear that he himself was feeling, he saw the doubts raised by her nature and her loss of identity.
"Look at me." He said.
Cameron didn't. John made out the tension growing across her face, the flush of red down her neck. He had never seen anything like it in her. Or had he? He wracked his brain for a time when she had been so human.
"Who is John Henry?" She asked.
The name caught John off guard. It had been so long since he'd even thought of John Henry that it took a moment to recall the face. Cromartie. George Laszlo. The gears in his brain turned over as John worked up to the answer. The truth, he said to himself. That was all he'd ever wanted from Cameron, and he felt he should pay in kind.
"It's complicated." John started. "John Henry is like you. I mean, he's a machine." John paused for a moment to measure her reaction. If she did, she did so within herself. "He's a computer program, but he's unique. Not like any other program." There was so much more, but that was the gist of it. Armageddon was hardly bedroom talk, or down-two-units-of-blood-talk for that matter.
Finally, she looked at him. "He's in my head." She said.
"That makes sense." John said, and then he turned to her. "Wait. Was he in your dream?"
Cameron took a moment and then nodded. "You said he was a computer program, a machine?"
This time it was John turn to nod slowly. "An advanced artificial intelligence."
"Then what does that make me if he's in my head?" Cameron looked right at him as she spoke.
John chose his words carefully. "It makes you…similar."
"John Henry said you knew what I am. Under all this, I'm metal. I don't have a heart. I'm invincible."
"That isn't true." John said. 'On both counts.' He almost said.
"Compared to you I am."
"It's because you're…" He thought back and knew what he wanted to say. "You're a cybernetic organism. Living tissue over a metal endoskeleton. It makes you tough. You're stronger and faster than me, you're basically bulletproof. But you're not invulnerable." John said. "But I think you knew all of that already."
She nodded. "I wanted to know if you really knew what you were getting yourself into."
John couldn't suppress a laugh, despite the pain. He felt his stitches strain along his wound. "What I'm getting into. I already have a pretty good idea about that." He said.
"I don't know about that." She said. "I don't think you know it all."
This time John had a cross look of his own. "Try me."
Cameron didn't respond right away. She seemed to be taking her time, thinking over what she might say. Whatever she wanted to say, she seemed to come up short and finally turned away.
"What are you afraid of?" John rolled over onto his back. He moved to one side of the bed and indicated to the other side. "Here, lay down."
"I don't sleep."
"Yeah I know Cam. Just come sit at least. I don't like having people hawing over me, it creeps me out. Come and share these bad things." John fixed her with his gaze. "Just get over here."
"You're not my boss." She said.
"You know you want to."
Apparently he was right. John watched, drawn to her eyes, but every time they met she would look away. No matter what he did she wouldn't meet his gaze, and after a moment he relented, rolling onto his back.
He drew in a long breath, filling his chest and belly, letting it all out at once. "Man, I've lost weight. Look at this." He pressed his hands to his stomach and revealed his ribs.
This produced the reaction he was looking for, as Cameron turned her head to his. He locked eyes with her, but again she retreated.
"You haven't been eating." She said.
"Been on the run. In fact I've been running forever." He said.
John waited for her to react, and when he felt that he had waited long enough he opened his mouth to continue. The silence, however, was cut short.
"You've been running from me." Cameron said, very quietly. It was almost a whisper.
John flinched. This time, when he looked over he saw that she was the one waiting for his gaze, and he met her only briefly.
"Sometimes." He said. "You remembered that part?"
She didn't nod, but she didn't deny it either. "I read about it in a book."
That wasn't what he had been expecting. "Not a book here, right?" He gestured to the room.
Cameron put one finger to her temple. "Here."
"Is that what you dream about? John Henry and the public Library?" John said.
Cameron raised an eyebrow. "Do you always joke this much?"
John cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I'll be nice."
She looked skeptical, but continued. "The books are in my dreams. I can see them, touch them. I can read them. They all have the names of people, some places. There's one with your name, one with your mothers. There are others…there seem to be more every time I go back."
"I'm guessing you haven't read them all?"
She shook her head. "I don't have time when I'm there. Out here, I can read thousands of words a minute, but in my dreams I'm slow." She put her hand to her neck, looking for something. "And I have a heart. I can feel it beating. I can feel pain and…other things."
John didn't know if it was his curiosity of the blood loss, but he took her hand from her neck and held it in his own. "More than just sensation, you mean."
"Yes. I feel…" She trailed off. "A lot of things."
John waited a moment before letting go of her hand. "I guess you don't want to share them."
"No."
"That's fair. But do you think you'll tell me eventually?"
She gave him a vague nod. John looked to change the subject, to keep her talking. He wanted to talk to her, he wanted to know what was going on inside her head. Cameron seemed reluctant to share anything and he wondered if she had stumbled across something in her past that was troubling her, something that had frightened her. Taken out of context certain parts of her might seem terrifying. Some things about her might seem that way regardless of context.
"So, where are we anyway?" He said.
"We're at the Emerald Lodge outside of Evergreen. We're about twenty miles west of Denver, Colorado."
"You drove us here?"
"I stole a police car." Cameron said, smiling a little. "It seemed convenient. Once I knew you weren't going to bleed to death, I decided that I needed to put as much space between the agents and ourselves."
"On the run again." John sighed.
"Is that normal?"
John nodded, leaning back on the bed. "Normal, yeah. I'm done with it, honestly. Once we're out of this mess, once we get back." He glanced over to her. "We're not running anymore."
"It's safer to stay mobile." She said.
John didn't disagree. "Might be safer, but it's no way to live. Running isn't the only way to be safe anyway, just the easiest way. I'll work something out. We'll work something out."
"You mean you and I?" She said.
"Yeah. It will probably be just us for a while. I've been thinking about it but…" Now it was Johns turn to trail off.
Cameron caught on almost immediately. "You don't want to tell me."
"No, not yet. But I will, alright?"
"Then we both have secrets." She said.
"Yeah we do. We always have. It's a trait of the Connor clan." John chuckled.
"Am I part of the Connor clan?" She asked. When John looked at her he could see a smile growing at one corner of her mouth.
"Yeah. We're a weird group. You got mom, I'm sure you'll meet her down the road. Or meet her again, anyway. She's nuts. She might actually hit me the next time she sees me. Uncle Derek, you two were always buddy-buddy. There've been a few others. There might be more, you know, after things get settled."
Cameron tilted her head at one of the names. "What happened to Derek?"
The question caught John off guard. He had been thinking about his family, the people that flitted in and out of his life. He thought of them all, Charlie and Derek and even Riley, the people that made up his tiny world. They were gone, the only proof they'd ever been was locked between the two people lying on the bed.
"What do you mean?"
"Derek Reese died in 2009. I read about it in your book." Cameron said. She wasn't smiling anymore. "It said he was killed protecting you."
"Yeah, he died. He got shot. It's an occupational hazard of being around John Connor."
"I guess it's good that I'm bulletproof then." Cameron said.
"Yeah, I'm glad you are." John smiled. "Speaking of…do you need any help with those?"
Cameron's dress was decorated with a tight cluster of gunshots, accented with powder burns and blood spatter. There were four or five of them just under her left breast. When John looked back at her, she was giving him a very strange look.
"What? I was just asking –"
"I took them out while I was driving." Cameron said.
John slumped back on the bed. Despite his best efforts, he was smiling. It might have been his first genuine smile in days, and behind it he suppressed a laugh that threatened to tear his stitches. "Well, you could have had help. That's all I was saying."
"You were in the back seat, asleep."
"Like you said, I'd been shot. I'll tell you what, next time someone is pointing a gun at us, I'll jump in front of him, sound good?"
Cameron snapped her head around to face him. "You will not…" She said. "…ever, ever do that."
"I'm unpredictable." John said. "You're not the only badass here you know."
Cameron waited for a moment. She seemed to come to some decision, and John drew in a breath as she reached across his bare chest. She lay her arm there across his heart, putting more than a little of her weight on him. In this position their faces were only inches apart, and without realizing it John had parted his lips slightly. She was so close…
"Ow! Fuck!" He said, flinching.
Cameron gave him a satisfied look and pulled her finger away from the dressing. "According to that, I am the only one here who can take a bullet, so don't get any ideas."
She got up, all the while looking right at him until she reached the window where she turned and assumed a standing pose, looking out over the parking lot.
'It must be instinct.' John thought. Surely she didn't remember that she was his guardian? He was at a loss to say just what was there against what wasn't, but at that moment he didn't care. Whatever came back, it would be enough. With a deep breath he realized he could still smell her.
"John, you should get some sleep." She said. "We have a long way to go tomorrow. We leave before dawn."
"I suppose you're driving." He said.
"Naturally."
"So where are you driving us to?"
"I'm making it up as I go." She said. Looking over her shoulder, she flashed one last smile. "I hope that's alright."
John just nodded his agreement. He couldn't remember the last time they talked, just talked. It felt good, it made him feel normal. For now, the walls weren't falling in around him. For the first time in a long time he felt safe.
He waited for a while with his hands tucked under his arms as he sank into the bed. He wanted to sleep. For a while, he didn't. For a while the only sound was his heartbeat, that and the assuring sound of blood rushing in his veins. He opened his eyes just a little to see Cameron by the window, standing in a pool of light.
She moved as he watched. First, with her arms at her sides and her head just turned so he could see her profile. John saw her arms come up, forming an arc over her shoulders as she let her spine curve gently towards the floor. Cameron bent one knee and turned in a motion so fluid he thought she might actually be falling. When she recovered and rose to her full height he drew in a quick breath.
Leaning back as if supported by strings, she saw him watching. She said nothing, John said nothing. She continued her dance, and her curved form in the moonlight was the last thing he saw before falling asleep.