Sarah spent her last few days at home feeling like one of the machines. Whenever John or Savannah saw her, they looked for any excuse to run in the other direction. Some of John's reaction could be put down to the revelations about Cameron, but there was more to it than that. Two days after John came home, Sarah and Olivia met the Bishops in the Harvard lab. A day after that they crossed universes again, talked with Felicia Burnett. Tests were done, questions asked and by the end of that meeting, the date was set for Sarah's transplant. John made his first pilgrimage to the Other Side a short time later, allowing Felicia to take the marrow that would hopefully save his mother's life. Sarah tried talking to him after. Whether she meant to offer thanks, an apology or another useless explanation of her behavior with Cameron, Sarah didn't know. John waved her off and retreated before she could find out.

Sarah knew what was happening and why. That knowledge didn't help with the frustration. She'd let things go as long as she could, longer than she should have. But now it was the eve of the transplant and certain tasks needed completion even if Sarah dreaded the hell out of them.

She was in the living room alone, the space immediately next to her on the couch taken up by a couple of leather-bound photo albums. She'd been occupying herself with one of them until a few minutes ago. Sparing a quick glance at her watch Sarah sat back against the cushions and pretended to relax as Savannah entered through the front door. Ellison was punctual: he'd always had that on his side even when she'd been pissed off and confused about Cameron and contemplating leaving him to fend for himself.

Always on time. If James said he'd have Savannah back by three, she was back by three. If he said he'd have the C-4 planted and the car pulled around before things lit up, he was good for that too. And he cooperated when it mattered. Sarah had let him spend extra time with Savannah even though her own time was getting shorter. Because Savannah was scared and she wouldn't admit that to just anyone. Because Sarah was scared and she'd needed time to strategize. James took Savannah when she asked, tried to shield the girl from the fear, the hurt. Sarah had learned to love him in her own way, mostly for that reason. Probably best if she articulated those feelings, but one battle at a time was always better. Whenever possible anyway.

"Hey. Have a good time?"

Savannah shrugged as she eased out of her jacket. That action didn't hide the tension in her frame, the sudden sharpness in her eyes. "Memory lane?" she said, nodding towards the albums and answering one question with another. "Not usually your thing, is it?"

"Not usually, no," Sarah conceded. "Care to join me?"

She was asking, but she wasn't. Sarah hadn't needed to twist Savannah's arm to get her out of the house recently. She'd been forced to ask Rachel to feign a busy schedule so the redhead couldn't spend all her time hiding out with Olivia's relatives. Savannah had worked hard to avoid this conversation, must've sensed the threat of it. Sarah had rewarded her for that, rewarded both of them really. She couldn't anymore.

Savannah must've sensed that part as well because she came without a fight. Positioning herself next to the brunette, Savannah remained unnaturally guarded as her eyes wandered the pages of the album Sarah had reopened. "Those pictures were all digital, you know. You could save yourself some space, transfer them to your phone."

The girl's tone was wry and so was the smirk she got as a reply. It was old and familiar, the teasing about Sarah's continued fear of anything involving computers. One last diversion before the unfamiliar, unpleasant stuff.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, let the silence stretch until Savannah moved closer, leaning into her slightly. She could still feel the tension in the redhead's frame, but there was only so much Sarah could reasonably ask for. She let her mind drift, trying to convince herself that another second or two didn't matter. She'd never put the pictures on a phone, though they'd stopped going through them every other month a long time ago. She wasn't the scrapbook type either. That was Olivia's doing, Olivia insisting that it was okay to store some photos, that they wouldn't be packing their bags any time soon, that the albums wouldn't be a hindrance. Savannah was in most of the pictures, John hardly any. It occurred to her then that the surveillance images of John at the bank were the ones clearest in her memory, the ones she'd seen the most. Sarah closed her eyes and focused on the feel of Savannah's weight against her. She thought of Marty Bedell and his criticism of her parenting skills. She hoped she'd improved over the years but wasn't sure. There were two photo albums, but they were thin and one of them remained almost empty. She'd have to talk to Olivia about filling the blank pages, keeping up with the good memories.

"You need to listen to Olivia when I'm gone. Tone down the backtalk. We both know where you get it from so I can't say much, but I'm still telling you to ease up on it. Things are going to be rough for awhile. On Olivia too, even when she pretends they aren't."

Any stiffness that might've left Savannah's frame was back in an instant. Sarah felt how close the girl was to pulling away from her. She didn't though. Pulling away would mean acknowledging that they were talking about more than a potentially long stay in the hospital.

Savannah pulling away would mean Savannah conceding that Sarah might not be coming home.

"I still want to visit you," Savannah pressed, refusing to take Sarah's orders as anything other than temporary.

"I know you do," Sarah replied, slipping an arm around Savannah and squeezing gently to make the point. "You're still not going to." Travel to a universe Savannah didn't know about wasn't the only issue. Not even the main one, amazingly enough.

"I want to see you."

"So see me now," Sarah retorted. She didn't expect Savannah to comment on the days of evasion and the redhead didn't surprise her. "See me now," Sarah repeated in a different tone. "You don't need to see me like that. You're not going to."

"You act like I haven't seen you sick before."

'Sick' in this case meaning beaten, shot, stabbed or some combination of the three. Sarah didn't feel like arguing semantics though. "That's sort of the point, and I think you know that."

"I know John's going to be there."

Sarah closed her eyes again. No matter how much progress she made, they always seemed to come back around to John. "John's an adult, I can't lock him in his room. I don't have that problem with you."

"Nice. Really nice."

The words were said on a sardonic chuckle. Sarah took what laughter she could get and fought the urge to tell the redhead that truth was rarely pleasant. There was no need for such a reminder, not with Savannah. That in itself was another depressing bit of reality.

"Fine, you don't want me there, I get it."

It sounded like she actually did, but Sarah sensed something hidden there. "Savannah…"

"You didn't want me around before either."

Savannah's voice had suddenly gone close to inaudible. It was that more than anything that clued Sarah in to what the trap was even as she pushed for more details. "What?"

"Gymnastics. When you picked me up after Weaver left. You didn't want to, didn't want me around. Not at first."

Savannah never referred to the thing that had played at being her mother. Never. Sarah could count on one hand the number of times the girl had let so much vulnerability show in her voice. She wondered how long Savannah had carried this before realizing the answer. Six, almost seven years. Always.

Sarah wished she could protest. She couldn't. Savannah might've heard her say as much before. The girl had always seemed to be around then. There were lots of nightmares. She'd had more than enough opportunities to catch the wrong snippet of an argument between Sarah and James. "I love you," the brunette declared. Desperation made the words almost sharp. The arm around Savannah tightened convulsively and Sarah had to force herself to check her grip. "You know that."

"I know. You just didn't before. Not at first."

Olivia had said close to the same thing on the morning they argued about Cameron. That moment kept looping itself in Sarah's head, along with that other frame of time when Savannah first learned of the cancer. The worst part of it was that Savannah hadn't even been accusatory when telling her that John mattered more out of the two of them, that John had more of Sarah's affection. It had been a statement, just as this was. There was a haze of self-reproach and pain now, as there was months earlier. Sarah didn't know why she kept being surprised by these feelings Savannah had, didn't know how to get rid of them. She only knew that she had to try while the chance was still there.

She eased away from Savannah, ignoring the silent protest, the tightening of the girl's hold on her. Sarah gave herself only enough space to assure eye contact with Savannah. "Look at me." Savannah didn't want to, that was obvious. She did it anyway and the knot that had been slowly tightening itself in Sarah's stomach over a period of days loosened just a bit. "It was never about not wanting you. I wanted better for you."

"I know. You've said this before."

She had. With a wooden door between them, on the same night Savannah first voiced the fears about her place in relation to John's. "I'm saying it again. That life, the one where you saw me and Olivia and everyone else out on a line every day, that's not what I wanted. For me or you. John and I didn't have a choice, but you…"

"Didn't have anyone. Just you guys. And Uncle James."

And Uncle James. Ellison was so much better at this than she was. Maybe he'd be able to convince Savannah of certain things if it came to that, if Sarah wasn't given enough time to do it herself. "It wasn't supposed to be this," she continued, nodding towards the photos of better times. "My life. Ours. It wasn't supposed to be like this, I didn't expect that. When James and I took you," Sarah paused long enough to close the scrapbook in her lap, set it aside. "My life up to that point, all it had been was taking. For a long time, most of what mattered always seemed to get ripped away. I didn't want you involved in that."

"I already was," Savannah pointed out.

"You were. And you…that was one of the few times things went the other way."

"What?"

"It didn't always take, the life I had. I have Olivia because of it. And John. And you." Sarah put careful emphasis on the last word, made sure she had the redhead's gaze. "You're what matters. All of you. You need to realize that you were the reason I kept going. You need to hear that."

Savannah looked away for half a second, used the curtain of her hair to hide her face. "You don't need to do this."

"Yes, I do."

"I'm asking you not to."

"And I can't always do what you want. Especially this time."

Savannah shook her head, taking a breath that wasn't quite even. "You never did this when I was younger, I don't know why you have to do it now."

Because if she'd said goodbye, said what needed to be said every time there was a possibility of death, most of Savannah's childhood would've been spent having this talk. "This time's different."

"No," Savannah refuted. "It isn't. You fight now just like you did all the other times."

Sarah nodded, stroking the hair out of Savannah's eyes before pulling the redhead into her arms. "I do," Sarah said, an agreement and a promise. "And the risks are more or less the same," she continued, stroking Savannah's back and dropping a kiss to her temple.

"I know," Savannah replied with only a slight crack in her voice. She was the one to pull back this time. "You don't know, do you? All this time and you still don't know."

"Know what?"

"What you did. When you took me. How much you…you gave me a life."

Sarah closed her eyes and pulled Savannah tight again, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "You returned the favor," she said, barely above a whisper.

After days of thinly-veiled evasion it ended up being John who cornered her. They caught each other in the hallway while John was exiting his room and Sarah was moving to enter it. "You talked to Savannah," he said by way of greeting.

Sarah nodded, though no question had been asked. "And I guess she talked to you." Warned, more like.

John didn't confirm or deny. "So I'm next on the list then."

Would've been first if she'd had any say in it. His knee wasn't fully healed yet, but it hadn't kept John any closer to her. He was leaning on the doorframe, trying to pretend he wasn't. His left leg seemed steady enough, but there were pain lines creasing his forehead. "Why don't you take something for the pain?" she asked, eyes cutting briefly to the knee that was starting to bend. He was bruised where Walter had taken the marrow, not that he hadn't been already. Walter just created a slightly newer pain to distract from the wounds caused in the bike accident.

"I don't need the pills. Walter will be happy to get them back."

So damn stubborn. Sarah wished she had someone other than herself to blame. "Fine. Let's sit down then."

John stood his ground, blocking the door to his room. "We can talk here."

He wasn't being confrontational, that was the hell of it. He was fighting her, but he wasn't being obvious about it, wasn't showing anger. Anger would make more sense. They hadn't talked of Cameron since he came home, and the time during which they could keep that up without serious risks was quickly coming to an end. "You need to sit down."

"Then you need to talk fast," John retorted. He took a breath and ducked his head, running his free hand through his hair. When he looked at her again something had softened, but he still didn't move from the door. "I'm not making it easy on you. If you need time or privacy, you're not going to get it."

"What are you doing, John?"

"Making it harder on you. You don't get to say goodbye to me, Mom, not the way you want. So whatever you think you need to say, you'll have to say it here."

She couldn't even make the denial, tell him he was wrong about her motives. Tomorrow she'd get a megadose of chemo, enough to wipe out her immune system. If not for better technologies on the Other Side she'd be getting it already, would've been sick for the last week. As it was, the other universe had ways of giving her the therapy in a way that wouldn't overwhelm her system, which was why she felt well enough to stand here arguing with her son. That wouldn't be the case for long. The transplant procedure itself wasn't much to worry about, basically amounting to a blood transfusion except with marrow. The aftermath was the problem. She'd be susceptible to all kinds of infections while waiting for the new marrow to work its magic and rebuild her system. That was assuming her body didn't reject the stuff immediately, which wasn't really a safe bet. She'd probably be alive after tomorrow, but there was no telling what state she'd be in. Sarah had been close to death enough times to realize that lengthy bedside goodbyes weren't something to count on. If things went wrong she'd likely have too many drugs and too much pain to say anything worth hearing, so she spoke now, hoping that the words would prove unnecessary.

"We've been over this. You need to accept the possibility that this won't work, and if it doesn't-"

"No," John refuted, green eyes flashing as he cut across her statement. "I don't need to accept losing you, not like this. I don't accept that."

"John-"

"If I don't accept it, then you can't either. If there are things we need to sit down and talk about, we'll do it after you're well again. Otherwise we talk here."

Sarah couldn't decide who he was right then. The boy who'd raged so hard against his destiny and begged her to get rid of it for him, or the man she'd tried for so long to shape him into, the John Connor meant to raise humanity from the ashes. Sarah wasn't sure which of those incarnations she was talking to. Maybe a combination of both. She wasn't budging either of them, that much she did know. "No matter what happens, you need to get yourself out of the system Over There as soon as possible. The tests, the medical data. The other Olivia, she's made arrangements. The Astrid on that side, she's going to be watching your records to make sure no one outside the hospital accesses them but-"

"What about yours?"

"Our records," Sarah corrected as if the distinction didn't matter. "But once this is done you need to purge everything." She waited for John to argue or agree. He did neither and Sarah was forced to take it on faith that he was listening, really hearing her. John didn't speak and Sarah didn't know how to break the silence.

Then her son took it out of her hands. John pushed off against the wall until there was no gap between them, until, she was in his arms. Sarah took in a rough hiss of air that became an almost-silent sob when John whispered two words in her ear.

"Thank you."

Sarah tightened her grip, felt John do the same. There was so much to say and she couldn't talk, could barely manage breathing.

"I'm not saying it because of the transplant. It's overdue, that's all."

He was rocking them in place, doing what she had when he first came to Boston, during that initial hug in his room. It couldn't be good for his knee, but Sarah couldn't tell him that. "I love you, John. I always have." It was the only thing she could say. With Cameron, with years of hurts and mistakes between them, it was the only thing she knew how to articulate. She'd said it at the Dyson house after nearly killing Miles, after John promised her that things would work out. Her son answered the same way he had nearly twenty years earlier.

"I know," he murmured, pulling her impossibly tighter and burying his head against her shoulder.

Her hands wouldn't stay still. Olivia knelt on the floor of their bedroom packing Sarah's bag for the hospital. The fucking shaking in her hands wouldn't ease. She'd done this for her mother at the age of fourteen. Once Marilyn Dunham entered the hospital, she never came out. Olivia dug her fingers roughly into the flannel of a shirt she'd been trying to fold for several minutes now.

Olivia told herself for the thousandth time that this was different. Sarah would not only come home, she'd be well again. Then the two of them along with John and Savannah, they would all work on getting well. Sarah's departure tomorrow morning would ultimately bring salvation. For all of them. Olivia kept up those thoughts, but her fingers kept trembling. Shaking her head in disgust, Olivia set the garment aside. Her fingers remained clenched with anxiety, nails biting into her own skin instead of the soft material that smelled like Sarah. When she heard her lover approaching, Olivia snatched up another piece of clothing and attempted to look busy. "I think I'm close to having everything covered."

"I trust you. But you don't have to do that."

Sarah's voice was somewhere behind her. The brunette didn't attempt to get closer. From the corner of her eye, Olivia saw Sarah go to their dresser, lean up against it. Sarah was facing her back, but wasn't looking at her. Olivia didn't know where the other woman's gaze was, but she would've known if it rested on her. "Yes, I do," she replied. She didn't want to, but the task gave Olivia something to focus on, never mind the fact that she was failing miserably at it.

"The safehouse in Mexico, what are the coordinates?"

The question was so abrupt that Olivia almost turned enough to look at Sarah. She caught herself at the very last moment, realizing how quickly such a move would undo her. "What?"

"Mexico, we set it up three years ago, what are the coordinates?"

"I know what you're talking about, and you know that I know where it is."

"I do. Tell me anyway."

With a mixture of frustration and bewilderment, Olivia did. When Sarah asked her about a weapons cache just outside of L.A. Olivia started to figure out the game. She gave the location of a thermite stash and the details on two sets of false identities before calling a halt. "Enough. You're coming home, we don't need to play quiz show like this."

"No, we probably don't."

Something in that tone made Olivia's blood boil and freeze simultaneously. She needed to turn around and confront Sarah on it. Instead she threw two more pairs of socks into the bag. This shouldn't be happening. The forty percent success rate was obviously looming larger than ever in both their minds, but that shouldn't matter. As Nina pointed out weeks ago, they'd beaten odds much worse than that, again and again. But those other times were about outfighting or outthinking the enemy. There was more physical danger, but at least they could face it together, cover for each other. Destroying the enemy this time could mean destroying Sarah, and Olivia couldn't protect her from that. Peter, Walter, Felicia, they'd all go above and beyond to make this work, but that thought wasn't as comforting as it should be. Olivia herself would have no say in this, no way of stacking the deck in Sarah's favor.

"I need you to try and watch out for John. I know that's harder than it is with Savannah, but he needs…"

Olivia closed her eyes. They stung like hell. It felt like her throat was closing up. So smart, so calculated, so infuriating. Giving her the easy stuff and then waiting for her irritation to provide an opening for the things that really hurt. "He needs you."

"I know. But if that's not possible-"

"Stop." They weren't supposed to be doing this. There'd been missions before, plans rife with the possibility of error and death. And there'd been nights that left plenty of time to dwell on those possibilities, think about how one or both of them could be dead the next morning. This hadn't been part of those nights, this blatant discussion of the risks. They had more to lose this time though. An odd thought considering everything they'd had at stake before, but it was true. They had a life now, one that didn't consist of nights like this. "Please don't do this."

A pause. When Sarah's voice came back it held a clear note of apology. "When Savannah asked me to change time, jump over my death, I asked you if we needed to talk about that. You said that at some point we probably would. Do we need to do that?"

Months ago, that hellish night when Savannah came back from Ellison's and ran off a few hours later. It felt like something from another life. Olivia swallowed hard, sure Sarah must've heard her.

"If you say no, then it's done, we'll drop it."

She had an out, a lifeline. She only needed to reach for it. The words wouldn't come, the promise that if her lover died, Olivia would do nothing to alter the timeline. She of all people knew the selfish, dangerous nature of her thoughts. That didn't stop her from contemplating what would happen if Walter was ever able to recreate the TDE technology or build a version of his own. The scenario wasn't that far-fetched. She'd be risking countless lives past, present and future if she tried to change anything. That knowledge still wasn't enough to make Olivia talk past the lump in her throat. It would've been easier years ago, before she knew what she'd be losing. That she was capable of being happy. Sarah was looking at her now, Olivia could feel green eyes at her back. Normally that would mean warmth, comfort. Tonight the brunette's gaze felt hot, like it was burning through clothing and flesh, searing her to the core. Tears burned Olivia's eyes. She covered her mouth with one hand, but it did no good. "Oh God." The words got lost on a sob, but they were there and Olivia hated herself for them, hated that she was too weak to say what was necessary.

There were footsteps, then Sarah was crouching next to her on the floor. Taking Olivia's chin in one hand, Sarah used the other to get rid of some of the tears. Cupping the blonde's cheek, Sarah held bright green eyes with her own. "Don't do what Cameron did. Don't put me through that. The waiting, knowing that I'm on borrowed time. Don't do that to me. Or yourself."

She'd expected the same arguments they'd given Savannah. It wasn't as if those weren't convincing enough. She hadn't expected Sarah to make it about herself. That was so far away from the norm that for long moments Olivia couldn't form a response. Don't do what Cameron did. Suddenly Olivia hated the machine. Sarah had run through radiation for her: they might not be having this conversation otherwise. At the very least, they may have more time. But no. If not for Cameron, they'd have nothing because Sarah would've died long before Olivia had a chance to know her. It was all so complicated and unfair. It was unfair of Sarah to pick this one time to make it about herself. There wasn't a choice in the face of that. There shouldn't have been anyway, it wasn't justifiable by any standard of rationality.

One of the few things Olivia knew for certain, rationality didn't always win out.

"I won't change anything," she said finally, the words coming rough and jagged against her throat. "I promise."

"I trust you."

Olivia tried to nod. Her vision blurred again, and her head ended up buried in the space between Sarah's neck and shoulder. "I don't know how to be without you again."

She hadn't meant to say it. Olivia cursed her own weakness as Sarah rubbed her back, kissed her hair. Tomorrow would be good; she had to stop treating it like another mission, another plausible death sentence. The cancer had snuck up on her, that had to be it. Sarah knew, but Olivia hadn't. To her it was a surprise punch, thrown while her back was turned. Skynet and shapeshifters, she'd learned how to protect herself from those things. This had caught her off-balance. She was teetering on the edge and had no control over which direction she'd fall in.

Sarah didn't offer empty platitudes, merely held her until the tears stopped. It didn't take long, there was that to be thankful for at least. When they separated Sarah took away the moisture again, kissing the places her fingers touched. Then their lips were touching. The contact was soft, gentle, but Olivia's heart still raced. One of Sarah's hands brushed the necklace at her throat, the Christmas gift from weeks ago when everything had seemed so hopeful and this night had felt a million miles away.

"If you were going to have sex with someone, and you knew that it might be the absolute last time, what do you think it would be like?"

God. She couldn't do this. "I think it would be incredibly sad," Olivia replied, adding to all this raw honesty she was starting to loathe.

"So do I." Sarah kissed her again, resting their foreheads together briefly. A soft, sad smile graced her lips. "Make me sad."

Olivia felt Sarah's eyes before she opened her own. She blinked away sleep and smiled groggily at her lover. Sarah faced her in bed, head propped up on an elbow. She wore her own half-smile as she trailed her free hand along Olivia's arm.

"Hey," Olivia murmured. Sarah kissed her in reply, first her lips, then her jaw, and finally her shoulder. Olivia reveled in the contact for too short a time before remembering what day it was. "What time is it?" she asked, voice tight with urgency.

"Shhh," Sarah whispered, shifting under the sheets and pulling the other woman close. "We've got time."

"How much?"

"Enough."

Not enough, in other words. As if there ever would be. Olivia put her head against Sarah's chest, listening to the steady thrum there. She tried to let go for a few more minutes but it wasn't possible. She'd have to finish packing Sarah's suitcase. Their clothes from last night had probably fallen into it. She needed to call James. And Broyles, she had to talk to him about John's visitations to the Other Side. The usual channels of approval weren't an option so she'd have to-

"You're thinking too much," Sarah admonished, tracing the line of Olivia's spine with one hand and running her fingers through silky hair with the other. "Try to get some more sleep."

Olivia shook her head in the negative, pulling back to meet Sarah's eyes in the semi-darkness. "I don't want to sleep if you aren't. I don't want to…" Miss anything, that's what Olivia was desperate to avoid. She couldn't voice it though, was incredibly grateful when Sarah didn't make her try.

"You should rest. Savannah's going to need you."

"And you."

Sarah pulled a wry smirk. "I'll be resting plenty in the next few weeks."

Olivia released a shuddering sigh. At least Sarah was entertaining the idea of survival. "We'll both rest. We'll go to the cabin in New York after you're better. All of us. We'll read, relax, go fishing on the lake."

"We'll need to work on the walls, some of the floorboards."

Olivia rolled her eyes in spite of herself. "Of course you'd find gun placement relaxing."

Sarah smiled a moment longer, lacing her fingers with Olivia's before continuing. "Listen. Go no matter what. However this turns out."

Not again. She'd thought they were past this, needed them to be past this. "We'll go together," Olivia repeated, biting her lip to keep from crying.

Sarah's mouth curved again as she reached out to press her thumb against Olivia's lips, soothing the irritated flesh. "Probably a bad time to bring this up, but have I told you that it's sexy as hell when you do that?"

"No, actually," Olivia replied, playing along because it was the only way to hold herself together. When Sarah pulled her close again Olivia went willingly, wrapping her body around Sarah's as if the contact would be enough to keep her there. More tears came despite Olivia's best efforts.

"I love you," Sarah stated, Olivia's tears staining her bare shoulder. "Just remember that. Always."

"I love you too," Olivia replied, struggling to make her voice even out. A pause. "I'll show you how much, once we're at the cabin." It was a pitiful attempt at humor, as evidenced by the sad smirk gracing Sarah's lips. When she answered though, there wasn't anything close to levity in her tone.

"I hope so," Sarah murmured, pressing another kiss to Olivia's shoulder-blade.