Title: Patchwork Girl
Author: Elessar-4-TnT
Disclaimer: I don't own Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles.
AN:
OK – My apologies. I went to post Chapter 5 tonight and realized… that I posted Chapter 5 last night, labeled Chapter 4. My apologies, I bet someone out there was a little confused. But, at least now you get Chapters 4 and 5 together ;)
Chapter 4: Enemy Mine
"Since when do you cook?" John asked, a smile playing on his lips as he leaned against the counter, fighting another large yawn.
"Since you taught me to."
"I didn't…" John began. Cameron turned and looked at him as she turned on the burner, reminding him with telling eyes how often things they did together are things they have yet to do together.
"I will in the future. What did you say to Derek?" John asked, changing the subject. Cameron went about retrieving the eggs, butter, and flipped the dial on the stove. "You know talking to him is just asking for trouble," John said, shaking his head.
"I simply attempted to correct his behavior," she said, frowning at John.
"His behavior?" he asked.
"He fell asleep on watch."
"Weren't you doing like a… perimeter sweep, too?" John asked, twirling his finger as if around the house.
"That's irrelevant."
"So you told him," John said, almost smiling as he pictured it. "That he shouldn't fall asleep on watch."
"Exactly," Cameron answered. She was certain John's question was satisfactorily answered and her reasons fully explained. She was wrong. Something had been eating away at him ever since Cameron had nearly killed him after her accident.
"Are there others like you in the future… that the Resistance has reprogrammed?"
"Not like me," she said cryptically, cracking an egg over a pan. "There are others."
"What do you mean," John said, squinting as he shook his head. "Like other models…?"
Cameron hesitated, computing several optional responses – none of them the truth.
"I am a unique model. Class T-O-K-7-1-5. There are no others like me," she answered finally. It was true, it was simply not the answer to his question.
"What, they only made one of you?" John asked.
His questions were beginning to strike too near the truth for Cameron's autonomous emotional subroutines' comfort.
"Yes. Your mother's condition has improved," Cameron hoped to derail the conversation.
"Go—" John paused, pushing off from the counter, his brows furrowed.
Cameron stopped what she was doing in response to the seriousness of his face and inquired.
"What?"
"You've never said 'your mother' before. You always say 'Sarah Connor'. Every time."
Cameron paused, tilting her head. "I will attempt to run a diagnostic." Her autonomous emotional subroutines were making changes to her vocal processor base code – changing her manner of speech. She stopped and performed several calculations, coming to a disturbing conclusion.
"John… We have to talk."