******* Well, this is it. You've all certainly waited long enough for it. Thanks for all your patience and kind words; I hope you enjoy the last chapter. I know I enjoyed writing it ************

John burst into the lab, glancing around the abandoned room full of mechanical gadgets, most of which had been covered in white cloth. He looked to the corner and saw her. She stood in the corner, her eyes closed, as if ready to accept her fate. Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding he stepped further into the room, and let the door go behind him.

Her head snapped up, her eyes focusing immediately on his. Horror washed over her face. "John don't let the door—" He heard the click of the door behind him, but didn't turn to look.

"Cameron, there's no way I'm letting you do this," he said fiercely, stepping over to her. "Now come on, we're leaving."

She didn't say anything, instead rushed past him to the door, pulling frantically on the handle. It didn't budge. Not even under her massive strength.

Understanding hit him like a brick. "You rigged the doors," he said through numb lips.

"I didn't want my self preservation protocols to kick in."

He glanced over at the wall; the only window was over 12 feet up the wall, and about the size of an air vent. "I guess they really didn't want prying eyes," he muttered darkly.

He heard a loud crash and looked over in time to see Cameron pick herself off the floor and run at the door for a second time. It didn't budge. Funny how the door didn't feel so heavy when he first entered the room.

"Cameron," he said calmly, walking over to her. He was strangely peaceful at the idea of his death now, as the clock wound down on his last minute of life—maybe two. He was okay, now that he got to spend his last few moments with her. "Come here."

She shook her head, panic on her face. "If I can just—"

He gently, pulled her away from the door. "No, it's okay."

"No it's not OKAY, John!" She yelled. "You're not supposed to be here! I can do this, I'm just a machine, but you… you can't just do this! You're too important!"

Had they had more time, John would have pointed out the irony in the situation- the machine being emotionally distraught while the human was calm. "You're important to me," he said instead, "The most important person in my life."

She stood there frozen for a moment, just a heartbeat, and then she was in his arms. He wrapped himself around her then pulling back slightly kissed her with all the force he possessed. If one kiss was all they were going to have, he was determined that it would be a good one. Her hands curled in his hair as she pressed closer to him.

Finally after what felt like both a breath and a lifetime, she pulled away, resting her head on his chest as they both listened to his heartbeat.

"We never would have made a normal couple anyway," she mused softly.

John laughed. "I would have been disappointed if we were."

"John, I—" she broke off, and stepped away from him.

"What is it?" he asked, following her to a workbench where a white sheet had been haphazardly thrown over what looked like an old computer.

Cameron pulled the sheet away and John sucked in a breath. "Is that a—"

"Time machine." Cameron finished, already turning it on. "It's functional."

"Well, Cameron," John said stepping forward and lacing his fingers through hers. "When do you want to go?"

EPILOGUE

Ever since the explosion at 1254 Freemont way, Sarah spent most of her time in the garden. When James asked her why, she retorted sharply, "Because the carrots don't ask me how I feel today about losing my son."

Only for Savannah did Sarah ever make an effort, but even then she would tire and return either to her bedroom or garden after an hour or so. Three months she toiled and raked, watered and weeded, until the place was a veritable paradise of produce. All except for one troublesome spot. Nothing would grow right in the middle of her tomatoes. Finally, completely frustrated, Sarah took a shovel and dug. It only took her a minute before she found the culprit. It was a small wooden box, buried not too deep beneath the soil.

She brushed the dirt off the top and sucked in a breath when she saw a name revealed, etched into the wood. Her name.

She opened the lid, and found two things. One was a faded black and white photo, the other a letter. She peered at the photo, instantly recognizing Cameron who looked only slightly out of place in long white wedding gown and hat sporting a feather. But the man next to her in the suit, his arm around her waist, was both familiar and foreign. His eyes where the same kind eyes of her son, but the short cropped hair, the stubble on his face and the carefree grin, those were all the attributes of a man she had never met.

Hands trembling, she opened the letter.

Mom,

I am so sorry I wasn't able to send a message sooner that Cameron and I made it out of the building all right. It took us a while to find the house, what with it not existing in the first place, and then even longer to save up enough to buy the land and build the house, plant the garden and then decide the perfect spot to bury this letter—but then I suppose all that passage of time had no real effect, and the only time you'd experience is the time it takes you to find this letter. Time travel is still a little odd to me.

But we did make it out of the building, by time traveling to 1946. I have to say, I was hesitant about the time, but Cameron was right, after WWII, no one really cared too much about two teenagers just moving into town.

There's so much I want to tell you, Mom. I did finish school, so did Cameron, even though she worked nights at the factory, well she worked nights until she was promoted to manager within a month and now she runs the western division of Levi jeans. A lot of people were disgruntled about having a female boss, but Cameron showed them.

I'm a professor now, teaching at the local college, but I'm actually going to be running for governor next election. Cameron says I'm a shoe-in, but I think she's biased.

We got married, Mom. I wish you could have been there. But you were, in my heart.

There are still some things that are going to take getting used to—being married to a girl who will never age, never sleep, and never gets tired of correcting my grammar. But I know that we'll make it work.

I want to thank you, Mom. For making me the man I am today. I know that being a professor, and possibly an elected official isn't exactly the role that you had in mind for me, but I'm happy. Truly happy. And no Terminator has come to the past to try and kill us, so until that happens I'm going to hope for the best and say that if all the machines that are created in your future act like the one in my present, well, then the world has nothing to worry about.

I love you so much, Mom.

Your son,

John