Darkness covered the ruined skyscraper, lit only by the weapons fire from far below, cascading around beneath him like angry ants. John Connor stood atop the skeletal framework, looking down on the remnants of the modern world, the last vestiges of mankind's empire. He felt alone, as if he were the last to look upon the world and remember what had been, as if he were the last in a series of kings, emperors and presidents who had guided the course of mankind's existence. Unlike those men from before, John had not desired his fate, he had worked against it for all of his days, but against all odds fate had chosen him for this purposes, and there was no denying it.
Far below the war unfolded, battle-lines drawn across wreckage stretching off into the horizon, explosions tinting the landscape in deep orange and purple tones. Muffled thuds echoed everywhere as massive chrome battle-drones prowled from above, like great lumbering birds of prey, gliding about the anti-aircraft fire that erupted from below. Streaks of rocket-exhaust lanced out from the battlefield, like soft strands of gray hair stretching into the skies, following behind the missiles which sought the hovering beasts. This was John's world, this was his purpose. For some in that other time there had been soft moments, sweet caresses and loving words. For others long ago there had been mundane jobs, bothersome commutes and pithy problems that had no real relavence. But for John there was only death, and the scent of it clung to him even in his waking hours.
Skeletons of chrome, monstrous machines, clambered up the framework of the ruined skyscraper, climbing towards him, seeking his blood. A phalanx of shimmering metal soldiers ascended the wreckage, their menacing red eyes searching only for him, focused on only one purpose, one mission. Those crimson eyes held no pity, no love, no hatred; they held only the singular desire to exterminate life. Cameron was there, standing at his side, staring into the night sky as the wind picked up strands of her hair. A wave of relief came over him then, knowing that she would never allow him to come to harm, knowing that she would always be there for him. He drank in the sight of her rugged, synthetic beauty, the melding of man and machine into something unique, and he smiled. But as she turned to face him, he saw that half of her body had fallen away, revealing what lay beneath. Half of her was polished chrome, covered in droplets of crimson blood which trailed from her mechanisms as they pulsated with the whirrs and clanking of metal servos and hydraulics. Her human eye peered at him with something akin to unrequited love, but the ghostly blue of her machine eye held only the image of torturous death.
John awoke with a start, drenched in sweat, the nightmare still fresh in his memory. The image of Cameron's ghastly form lingered in his mind, as he calmed his breathing and trudged out of bed. Clambering into the kitchen he began rummaging the fridge for whatever his mother passed off as food.
"Bad dreams?" Sarah asked simply, leaning against the counter top.
"It was nothing."
"I used to have them. Sometimes I still do. Yet no matter how bad it was I always told myself the reality had to be much worse." She continued, shaking her head slightly. "There's milk and cereal. I think I'm done with trying to cook for awhile."
John chuckled a moment at that. "You're better with a gun than a stove, mom. Fortunately."
Cameron walked in briskly. She never moved slowly, always stomping from place to place with dramatic determination. John supposed that teaching subtlety to a machine was rather like teaching cooking to his mother. Some things were best left the way they were. Even after only two days, she had healed remarkably well. The synthetic flesh didn't seem to scar in the manner of human flesh. Most of the worst burns were a dull red now, most of the blisters had faded away and even some of the tears had apparently healed. Her hair had been restored to its natural tone, though John didn't know how that was possible. Cameron tore open the fridge behind John, rummaging very noisely.
"I need more nutrients to aid in the healing process. Foods high in protein." She added as she continued her quest in fridge.
"I could go and get some stuff from the corner store." John began. Cameron extricated herself and turned to face him, shaking her head.
"Unsafe. I would be unable to accompany you. Derek should go, not you." She replied as the bitter fighter groggily trudged into the kitchen.
"Don't you tell me what I should do, fucking tin can." He snapped.
"Look I don't need an escort to a 7-11, okay? Next you're going to tell me I need a chaperone to the toilet." John added, facing Cameron. Her head cocked for a moment as if pondering the implications of his statement.
"Thank you for explaining. I'm sorry, I didn't want to injure your male ego." She responded, with a hint of a smile crossing her features.
"Did that tin can just make a joke?" Derek asked before tearing a box of crackers out of the cabinet. "Tell you what, how about I take him to the store, huh? Think your circuits could handle that?"
"Yes. My circuits can handle that." Cameron answered. Yet her face betrayed a tinge of worry. Her brow creased as if imitating that human gesture of deep contemplation...
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He had been gone for nearly 30 minutes. Cameron had begun to regret mentioning the need for protein. Her healing was a secondary concern only, and John Connor's reaction had been only natural for him. Anytime one of his companions needed something, John was always willing to take whatever risks were necessary to handle the problem. Next time she would be more careful about such things. It was true that he had the resistance fighter with him, and he could easily handle any human threats. It was also true that the probability of a terminator acquiring him at such a location was extremely unlikely.
Neither of those thoughts could take the worry away. She continued processing the data over and over, coming to the exact same conclusions but initiating the same thoughts again and again. Somewhere deep in her consciousness she registered the behavior as illogical and wasteful, but she could not stop anyway. Attempting a different tactic, she distracted herself by playing back the records from earlier. She could feel his hand stroking her cheek, caressing her softly, and the sensation was undeniably... pleasing. She did not understand why it would be, but the response was undeniable. For a moment she wondered if humans did the same thing with their pleasant memories, or if the sensation was somehow different for them.
The front door opened and she heard two sets of footsteps. A wave of relief passed over her as she stood to greet him.
"You are unharmed?" She asked simply.
"I'm fine. Really, you don't need to worry." John answered quickly, setting down a bag full of beef jerky and other items. "I'm not sure I'd call this healthy, but it has lots of protein."
"That will work. Thank you, John." She replied.
"Try not to get yourself blown up next time." Derek added sarcastically as he walked away, glaring at her as he passed.
"Hopefully you'll be in good enough shape to go to school in a day or two. If we stay away too long, it might look suspicious." John commented absently as he handed her a bag of the jerky, taking a few snacks for himself.
"What did it mean earlier when Morris requested that I go to the prom with him?" Cameron asked between bites. "I don't understand this prom ritual."
"Well it's a dance, a really important one I guess. Morris asked you to go with him because he likes you."
"Does that mean he finds me attractive? A potential mate?" Cameron's head cocked slightly in that inquisitive manner of hers as John nearly choked on his snack.
"Uh... Yeah, that's what it means. You don't need to worry about that though. We'll both go to the dance just to seem normal. All you need to do is dance with him a little bit and pretend to have a good time." He couldn't help but laugh at having to explain this concept to a machine.
"I see. I think I would prefer to dance with you." Cameron smiled just slightly before catching the expression and returning to her normal, emotionless gaze. This time John did choke for a moment.
"Uh... we're supposed to be brother and sister. Siblings don't do that." He replied, starting to turn red from embarrassment.
"I understand. Do you find me attractive?" She asked, her voice changing just slightly.
"Well.. uh.. yeah, I guess." John turned away unable to look at her as his cheeks turned scarlet. Cameron continued eating the beef jerky, her emotionless stare replaced with a thin smile. She remembered the many television programs she had absorbed in recent days, her only real guides in human courtship behavior, and she determined an appropriate response. Leaning over the table just enough, she planted a kiss on his cheek, then turned away without saying another word, carrying the bag of food with her. Behind her, John was a mix of emotions, unsure of whether this new development was a thing to smile about, or something to be very afraid of.