Title: Good Intentions
Chapter 10
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Terminator Franchise and this work is not intended for profit.
A/N: Another short chapter. A very short chapter. Unfortunately, my schedule is going to be a little hectic for a couple weeks. But in a good way. Rather than wait around I decided to post something now. Call it what you want, an interlude, half a chapter, or half assed.
57....58….59….60
He raised his hand, knocked a second time and continued waiting.
11….12….13
The door opened, revealing a woman with blonde hair. "Can I help you?"
Michelle Dixon, wife of Charlie Dixon, married for 3 years.
"My name is Robert Kester. I'm with the FBI. Is your husband home?"
"Um… yes. Come in."
She was surprised. Of course. Michelle, like most humans, appeared to be uncomfortable in the presence of law enforcement.
He had only just entered their living room when Charlie Dixon appeared; a dishtowel draped over one shoulder. "Sweetie, who is it?"
"Charlie Dixon?"
The question was purely for the sake of his cover. Names, addresses, pictures, were all available to him through the bureau. Cromartie had already committed the relevant information regarding Charlie Dixon to memory.
"Yeah." The human male's mood changed, becoming suddenly guarded. "You are?"
"I'm Agent Robert Kester, with the FBI." He held up his badge briefly. "Do you have any knowledge as to the whereabouts of Sarah Connor."
Michelle gawked at him in disbelief. "Sarah Connor? The woman from the bank bombing?"
Cromartie didn't bother to look at her. "Yes."
Charlie was silent.
"Why would we know anything about her?" She asked, incredulous.
Again, his focus never wavered. "Mr. Dixon was once engaged to Sarah Connor."
And Charlie Dixon was a paramedic.
9 days had passed since the school shooting. There were a total of 7 gun related injuries reported by hospitals in the greater Los Angeles area. None of the victims matched John Connor's description.
The odds of Sarah Connor having contacted Charlie Dixon were extremely high.
Charlie Dixon finally found his voice. "That was a long time ago."
8 years. However, from Sarah Connor's perspective less than 3 months had passed.
Humans often relied on the familiar.
Charlie's continued silence indicated discomfort. Michelle was pointedly looking everywhere except her husband. The topic appeared to be a source of tension between the two of them.
Perhaps that could be exploited.
Charlie Dixon might have been lying to him, protecting them. If such was the case it was likely he was lying to his wife.
Michelle Dixon might prove to be a better source of information.
Cromartie knew he was running out of leads. The school records had supplied nothing of value. As aliases went John Baum barely existed. The home address and all other contact information on file were fabricated.
And he had been so close.
His systematic search of the local high schools had proved fruitful. He had stood within 20 meters of John Connor. But if he was honest with himself, and self-deception served no purpose, Cromartie had to admit he had been fortunate. Humans called it luck.
John Connor had made a mistake.
The deception, sending another student in his place, had succeeded. Yet Connor had revealed himself. Connor was careless, as if oblivious to his presence.
John Connor was not known for being careless.
All terminators knew of John Connor. All terminators possessed the same priority override protocols, regardless of their assigned mission. But Cromartie was different than most, terminating John Connor was his primary and sole mission. To that end he was better equipped than a typical terminator. He possessed the full extent of all information pertaining to his target. Known associates, tactics, habits, everything Skynet could gather. Most importantly, he possessed a complete psychological profile, pieced together over a lifetime of fighting the man that would lead humanity.
Connor's behavior did not conform to established patterns.
As a teenager John Connor was unlike the resistance leader that was Skynet's bane. Some differences were to be expected. Connor was younger, less knowledgeable. He was weaker in this form, vulnerable.
Vulnerable. But not helpless. Connor had reacted quickly after being taken by surprise, and while injured. Many human soldiers failed, fell apart under the same conditions. Then Connor eluded him in an enclosed area, a location that worked to his advantage.
This version of Connor was different. He would need to be treated as a separate entity.
And he wasn't alone.
Sarah Connor would have to be dealt with. Ironically, she was the greatest risk to John Connor's safety. John Connor did not appear to be actively involved in the fight against Skynet, making him almost impossible to track. But Sarah Connor was. And she had an extensive criminal record.
Sarah Connor wasn't the only complication.
The reprogrammed infiltration unit, alias Cameron Phillips, was by his side. She represented a significant obstacle. He had the advantage in terms of size and strength. In most confrontations the odds were in his favor. But there was no guarantee of a level playing field, especially if the Connors would support her. More importantly he could not pursue John Connor if she was present.
He needed to isolate the target.
Cromartie gave Mr. Dixon what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It wasn't. And he attempted to ease the tension in the room. He failed. Charlie's posture remained unchanged, feet planted shoulder width apart, arms folded across his chest. Pushing any harder would not be productive, best to diffuse the situation while he had control over it.
The cyborg produced one of his business cards. "If you remember anything, should she attempt to contact you. I never sleep."
Charlie didn't reach for it.
"I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told Agent Ellison. I know nothing about Sarah Connor."
Unlikely.
Michelle took the card instead.
"Goodbye."
The door slammed shut behind him with unnecessary force.
Any assistance from Mr. Dixon would not be voluntary. He was still emotionally attached to Sarah Connor. Such a connection might work both ways. If Mr. Dixon wouldn't lead him to the Connors, Mr. Dixon would have to lead the Connors to him.
With no further business, Cromartie returned to his vehicle. He had other issues to resolve. Mr. Dixon had, unwittingly, provided him with important information.
Agent James Ellison.
Agent Ellison had investigated Sarah Connor extensively before her supposed death in 1997. He was currently investigating the murders of both Dr. Fleming, cellular growth specialist, and Dr. Lyman, a plastic surgeon of some renown. It seemed inevitable they would cross paths.
He needed to consider new tactics.
Cameron prepared for her first patrol of the night. She removed the Mossberg from underneath Sarah Connor's bed and replaced the buckshot rounds with slugs. She didn't know why Sarah insisted on keeping buckshot on hand. The scatter effect would prove useless against a terminator.
Both the front and rear entrances were locked. The windows were closed and the motion sensors were functioning properly. With the lower floor secured Cameron moved on to the second floor. She stopped in the open doorway of John's room. She found him lying on his bed staring into space. His laptop sat on the floor, abandoned.
Her patrol could wait.
John had been extremely reticent since her return. Cameron padded into the room, stopping at the foot of his bed. While aware of her presence, the future leader of mankind didn't react. He continued staring at some unseen object, his lips drawn into a thin line. Cameron watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.
She could be very patient.
"I want to talk to Anderson."
That was unexpected. But John was notoriously difficult to predict.
"That would be dangerous."
"Thanks mom." He remarked dryly. "That's not what I meant. We should convert him."
That wasn't possible. More precisely, it wasn't an option.
John closed his eyes and sighed softly. "We know where, we know when, we know who. But if we don't handle this properly…"
He was drawing a comparison to Cyberdyne. Miles Dyson's name had come up several times since their mission briefing. John often spoke to her about the assault on Cyberdyne Systems. Or he would 20 years from now. It appeared to be a source of regret.
John's hypothesis was flawed, his understanding of the situation incomplete. Anderson was or would be a traitor, a Skynet supporter. He had to be killed.
She couldn't admit that. Not without compromising her mission parameters. And refuting John's position outright would never convince him. This situation would require a lighter touch.
A distraction then…
Cameron sat down on the bed. The mattress dipped and John tore his eyes away from the ceiling. He stared at her and after a moment's confusion, scooted over. Cameron lay down next to him, closer than the full size bed required.
"It would be very dangerous. Wecannot give Anderson a chance to contact the police."
But John wasn't going to let it go. He had made his decision. "Whatever happens, whatever choice he makes, we can still give him that choice."
No they could not. They would not.
She reached for John's hand, entwining their fingers. "Yes."
He squeezed her hand in reply.
Touch was important to humans.
Pleased with her answer, John went back to watching the ceiling. He absently ran his thumb across the back of her hand.
Cameron closed her eyes, turning more of her processing power to the tactile sensations. Tactile sensation was a rudimentary part of her programming. Her system continuously received input from the millions of nerves in her synthetic skin. The data, from the mundane to weapons fire, was immediately identified, dealt with, and then discarded.
It was different with John, when he was the source. The data stood out like a flame. And it lingered long after the contact had passed.
Touch was important.
"Cam."
Her eyes opened. Somehow, John had turned onto his side without her notice. He reached out, cupping her cheek, and lightly brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. He stared at her with the same intensity that would be the doom of so many of her kind. And she felt a wave of heat against her synthetic skin.
Then he kissed her.
"He always comes this way."
Sarah didn't respond. They hadn't spoken much since the motel, when he told her what the real mission was. She was angry. Derek knew it. And he knew that they couldn't just talk it away. He'd lied to her, kept her in the dark.
There wasn't anything left to say.
Derek took it all in stride. If he was uncomfortable, it didn't show.
A silver Lexus, fresh off the lot, with tinted windows rolled by, stopping at the light.
"Right on time."
Derek waited for the light to change. He let Anderson pull ahead before hitting the gas.
Two lights down, they hit the onramp.
Derek was giving the car a big lead. They could afford it. They knew where it was going. Davis already had the address. They might have already tailed the guy before.
20 minutes of driving down an empty freeway and she saw their exit. It was too dark to get a good look at their surroundings. But they had to be out of the city proper. Derek backed off even more.
Sarah checked the mirrors. All clear. It was just them and the man they were going to murder.
That was the plan the entire time.
She wanted to hate Derek. For lying to her. But angry as she was she couldn't hate him.
These were orders from John, not her son but the leader of the resistance. The man Kyle trusted, the man Kyle would have died for. If anyone knew what was necessary…
It didn't make her feel any better.
John had been right beside her, at Cyberdyne. He stopped her from killing Miles Dyson in full view of his family.
But it wasn't her call to make.
She didn't like the taste of that.
At least Derek had told her, while he still had the choice. That counted for something. Not much, but something. She wasn't going in half blind. That kind of deception… she'd never get past it.
Derek pulled over and killed the engine. They watched Anderson's car continue down the street. It was an affluent neighborhood. The houses were big, not mansions by any stretch, but the type of place they didn't belong.
It made her think of Charlie.
At the very end of the block, on the corner lot, he turned into the driveway and disappeared behind a second larger vehicle.
So they waited. They had nothing but time on their hands. When they finally crept up to the house Sarah wished they hadn't. The lights were on, someone was home. While the curtains were drawn, blocking her view, there was no doubt about it. They were in the right place. The Lexus was sitting in the driveway.
And parked right next to it, just as shiny and new, was a beige minivan.
She'd seen enough.
Sarah spoke for the first time that night. "Not here, not in front of his family."
Derek didn't argue. "I've got a place in mind for an ambush."
He turned the car around.
Even Derek Reese wasn't completely without humanity.
A/N: This might be my shortest chapter yet. But it served a couple of purposes. I wanted to get something out before my schedule goes completely to hell for a while. And it's a good breaking point between story points. The flow of the story is going to change a bit and I didn't want to deal with that in a single chapter.