John burst out of the house, taking one step away, two steps. She loved him? Words spun in his head… his mother telling him that it was all a lie, a manipulation… Catherine insisting that they could feel emotions the same as any human… his own words she doesn't have a soul.
She wasn't telling the truth. She couldn't be. Even if she was capable of emotions, there was no way that she could feel love, or even recognize it if she did. She must have just got confused. Being programmed to protect him—that must be what was getting her messed up. A machine—that was what she was, nothing more. She wasn't even a she: she was an it. Even as he thought that to himself he shuddered.
He had let this entire situation get out of control. First and foremost by treating her like a human being. That would have to stop. She—it was a piece of programmable software, confused software at that. He paced back and forth on the front deck, trying to gain some bearings.
Finally, he turned and strode back inside and downstairs.
Cameron looked up expectantly.
"We… should use Cromartie for parts, we don't have any other source of coltan," he said briskly.
"I upset you," Cameron studied his face in her usual calculating manner.
"I don't want to talk about what you said. You're a machine, you have no idea what love is and are not capable of it. You're not to tell anyone about what you said, that's an order. Now, we're going to continue fixing you because that's what needs to be done." John walked over to Cameron, "What parts should we start with?"
Cameron looked down and away, "I will be able to complete the repairs on my own. You should eat and rest."
John rubbed his eyes angrily. Great, now he'd… what? Hurt her feelings? "Look, Cameron…"
"Leave," Cameron said, still not meeting his gaze, "please."
Clenching his jaw he stomped upstairs and to the kitchen. He pulled contents out of the fridge, not really caring what they were, and put together some form of sandwich.
His mother stepped into the kitchen and rubbed his shoulders affectionately. "I am glad you're back," she said.
"Good to be back," he retorted, somewhat sourly.
"Remind me again why Cameron went to the future?" Sarah asked conversationally.
He sighed impatiently, he did not want to talk, or even think, about Cameron that the moment. "I don't know… that's what we did, when we were running away. And we had to come back to replace the software." He took a large bite, hoping that his mother would get the hint.
"Is something bothering you?"
Yes. He was mad, at himself, at Cameron, at everyone at the moment… and time traveling was starting to give him a headache. "No, nothing. Just tired."
"Go take a shower and get to bed, Catherine wants to start planning our attack against Cyberdyne tomorrow," she said affectionately.
"Thanks, I think I will."
He took a shower, and washed days of grime from his skin. It felt good to finally be clean. When he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist he felt a hundred years old, but when he lay in bed just minutes later he couldn't sleep.
His mind kept turning back to Cameron, the terminator that had somehow become his friend—his best friend. Cameron who's humor, sometimes unintentional, was often the only thing that could make him smile. Cameron, who despite his resolve to treat her like any other machine, meant more to him than he was willing to admit.
He wouldn't get any sleep, not knowing that Cameron was downstairs. Not knowing how he had upset her earlier. He sat up, and glanced at the clock 6:00AM. It wasn't even night any more, but everyone seemed to still be asleep as he walked down the hall.
John opened the door to the basement and at the bottom found Cameron tightening some screws in her right upper arm. She didn't even look up though he was sure she knew he was there. He had never been given the cold shoulder from her before.
"Cameron… I'm… I'm sorry—"
She held up her left hand to stop him, and finished her task before finally looking up. "You should not have to apologize. By my calculations, your previous statements are true." She closed up her exposed metal on her arm. "This is why I did not reveal to you before the capacity for illogical reactions to stimuli known as emotions, but this new software made them considerably more difficult to conceal."
"I just don't know," John said, utterly exhausted. For the first time in a while, he felt like he didn't know anything.
"Perhaps I should explain my symptoms and then you can tell me if I have made an accurate diagnosis."
"Umm… alright."
"When you smile I feel like my body mass has decreased exponentially. I enjoy your company; I dislike it whenever you are in danger, even if it serves to further our mission. My sense of time is slightly different than yours, but when you confide in me those are some of my best times. I have a strong, irrational desire to do ill to those who mistreat you, or hurt you. I often hope that you find me attractive, and that you would look at me as you did that human girl, Riley. And when you are angry at me, or upset my processor recognizes a pain but cannot locate an origin." Cameron shrugged, "the closest emotion in my database that fits is love, but perhaps I am mistaken."
John stared at Cameron. Shit. It was a few moments before he could form any coherent statement between his numb limps. Finally he found his voice, "Thank you for explaining."