A/N: So I just realized in this chapter that there are now two characters named Alex. Akagi and Chola. I borrowed the name from CJ, but it worked for him because he did not incorporate the Akagis into his story. I'll leave both, but I'll try to use Mr. Akagi or Alex Akagi (or maybe "that guy over there") whenever referring to him, and simply Alex when referring to Chola.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters or the show.
Adrian Wexton does not like technology. He doesn't hate it, but he doesn't especially like it either. He prefers pencils and pens to a keyboard. Prefers paper to a disk or a hard drive.
It's not that he doesn't understand technology, because he does. He can Google. He can type up reports. He can look up information on Wikipedia or really any web site. In fact, he can even hack into restricted web sites. But he prefers the tactile representations of this information. Of all information.
So in his studio apartment, there are no art pieces on the wall. Instead, there are hundreds of papers, photos, and note cards pinned up.
He is dedicated to his job. Even if he doesn't fully understand what his job is.
He eats take-out, he never cooks. The only things in his refrigerator are leftovers, condiments, and beverages, most importantly of which is a case of beer.
But on nights like this, he prefers the harder stuff. Scotch.
Because tonight is the first time in his life he is truly stumped. There hasn't been one sighting of any of his targets since they were last seen as Tyson Dawes' house. Tyson Dawes has not even been seen.
It's important to Wexton to know what drives those whom he is tracking. But he doesn't know this. He was promised full access to all of the information that his employer possesses, but he's sure that he doesn't. He's sure of this because he has no idea why these people, the Connors and their allies, were even at Dawes' house.
Wexton grunts in frustration and throws the still half-full glass of scotch against the wall.
He knows this action does not bring him any further to success, so he immediately begins rehashing all of the information he does have.
Sarah Connor. John Connor. One un-identified female assumedly around 23 years old. She was involved in a bank robbery with the Connors about 9 years ago. Apparently she's stuck with them since. Two unidentified males, one of which was captured and eventually was rescued.
The question is what is so important about these people? The one question he had could not be answered by the files given to him.
So he turned to Google.
The first link took him to an article on a mass prison escape from a few weeks ago. Wexton vaguely remembers hearing about it on the news. He never really watches the news, he just keeps it on low while he's getting ready for the day. But now that he has made this connection, another pops into his mind. Sarah Connor. It couldn't be….
He scrolled down through the article and found what he was looking for. He whispered aloud the important bits. "Sarah Connor…terrorist…blew up Cyberdyne Systems…Miles Dyson died in the explosion…admitted to Pescadaro…escaped…attempted to rob a bank…was believed to have died in bank explosion…kidnapped the daughter of Zeira Corporation founder Catherine Weaver…police apprehended the fugitive…mass jail break…security system hacked…."
He got the idea. So this was the Sarah Connor he'd been hearing about intermittently in the news over the past 15 years or so. And now he was being asked to find her. She was possibly the world's most difficult target, and now she was his new adversary.
He couldn't wait to get started.
John had been asleep for 1 hour, 23 minutes, and 12 seconds. Cameron had not looked away from him once since. In fact, she hadn't removed her gaze from him since he had begun kissing her so fervently. She had been trying to process what had happened. She knew the mechanics of what had transpired between herself and John, but she knew there was much more to sexual intercourse than just the mechanics. She'd gleaned this from observing human behavior, both in person and via the television. Sex was supposed to mean more. But she was at a loss of words for what that meaning was.
She did know that John had looked at her differently than he ever had before he had drifted off to sleep. He had been exhausted before their joining, so he was beyond exhaustion afterwards. She couldn't classify the look, though she continued to contemplate it long after the look had disappeared from John's face as he gave in to sleep. She compared his expression to that of others she has seen him make, and was about to admit to herself that there was none to compare it to, when she stumbled upon her answer.
It wasn't exactly the same, but the similarities were more abundant in this one look than any of the others. They were in the future. Not Cameron's future, but the future they'd been in just a few short weeks ago. Cameron was laying down, and as she looked up, she saw John. He was staring at her, with an expression on his face that she, like now, could not read.
And as Cameron replayed the scene back in her head, an explanation for both expressions was revealed to her.
"I knew you'd find me."
"I'll always find you."
And Cameron knew then what John's strange expression meant.
He had found something.
He had found her.
It was the first day of his life.
The first truly good day at least.
Which was strange since apparently this was still the same day. The same day his mother had been shot. The same day that his uncle had been abducted and tortured.
But none of that mattered right now. And he held tight to that because he knew that soon it would all come crashing down. Reality would penetrate the force field that she'd constructed around him. It was as if she'd placed a veil around them. Reality was still an accessible idea, a vague blob on the other side of the thin fabric, but it couldn't touch him. Not while she remained in his arms.
But he was hungry. And he still had a lot of work to do. He had people to meet, strategies to conceive.
He'd been awake for awhile now, but had not yet opened his eyes. Despite this, he was sure that Cameron knew that he was no longer asleep. But she had remained silent. Patient as always.
With a quick and final squeeze, a full-fledged hug of Cameron's body, he opened his eyes. It was the first step to removing the veil. But seeing her face, his hope, he realized that the veil could never be fully taken away. What had happened was irrevocable, he'd made his choice. He had chosen her despite his mother's objections, despite the doubt that still lingered in his consciousness as to whether she could truly love him or not.
But he stayed true to his earlier revelation. He didn't care. He trusted her enough now to trust that she was not lying to him. That she was not purely manipulating him. He was smart enough to know that she was constantly manipulating him, of course, but he trusted her enough to know that there was something more to it. He trusted her enough to know him better than anyone else. To know what's best for him, and to know when he's wrong, and to do whatever it takes to help him figure that out.
He doesn't like it, the idea that he could be wrong, but he accepts it. She has more experience, more information than he does. She has a faster processing rate and a firmer grasp on what is at stake. So he needs her to be his advisor, and to strong-arm him if necessary.
So though he doesn't know if she truly possesses the ability to love him, he believes that he is the most important thing in her life, and somehow believes that it is not simply due to her programming.
He has to believe that.
Because if that's not true, then he loses the veil and eventually he will implode.
Xander Akagi was speechless. Not that he ever possessed much speech in the first place, but this time was different. He was faced with the realization of a dream he'd had since as far back as he could remember. A full-blown, life-size AI.
His father, however, was far from speechless.
"You lied to us!"
Weaver cocked her head to the side. "I did not lie to you, Mr. Akagi. I am unsure where your accusation stems from."
"You led us to believe that Xander would be conducting research here in order to develop an AI. Instead, you used him to further your Project Ark when he could have been involved in one of the greatest discoveries of humankind."
"I assure you, Mr. Akagi, Xander did not miss much by working on Project Ark. John Henry had been fully functional long before the two of you were even on my radar. It is true, he has only been cordless for a short time, but that was an advancement that I am certain neither of you could have aided in. However, I will admit that I misled both of you. I apologize, and hope to make amends. I am giving Xander full access to John Henry. I will warn you, though, that John Henry is needed in many capacities, so he cannot spend all of his time being studied."
During Weaver's explanation, Alex's anger had ebbed enough for him to think more clearly. He didn't want to ruin this opportunity for his son. "Thank you, Ms. Weaver."
"You are welcome, Mr. Akagi."
The two of them turned their attention the the younger man, who still hadn't spoken. He was simply staring at John Henry. John Henry stared back, a small grin on his face.
"How did you…?" was all Xander could manage.
"That is confidential information. However, I have no qualms against you discovering for yourself how John Henry works. With my permission, that is, on my time table and John Henry's, you will be able to study his microchip for a short time. Until then, you can begin studying how his physical body conducts itself. I assume this is satisfactory gentlemen?"
The father and son simply nodded as a response.
"Very well, then. John Henry, I have somewhere to be. I will leave you in their hands. Be ready to leave in two hours, okay?"
"I understand, Ms. Weaver," John Henry replied.
Once Weaver had left the room, John Henry turned back to Xander. "Would you like to play a game?"
It wasn't hard for Wexton to find out that Father Bonilla was the last person to see Sarah Connor before her escape. So that was where he started his investigation.
He briefly toyed with the idea of confronting the Father in the confessional booth, but figured that probably wasn't the best way to get information from a man of the cloth. Instead, he settled on simply setting up a meeting with him. He used a bogus name, of course.
He showed up for his appointment on time and the Father shook his hand and welcomed him in before closing the door behind them. Wexton was not stupid. He knew that religious leaders were some of the more difficult to gain information from. They were bound to confidentiality, and they didn't keep records like doctors did. So he knew his best shot was to prey on his fear for Sarah.
"Thank you for meeting with me Father."
"Of course. Now what can I do for you?"
Wexton noticed that the Father seemed a bit off-kilter, probably because he had been stuck in the middle of a mass jail break. He got right to the point. "I'm here about Sarah Connor. You were the last person to have seen her before she fell off the radar, and I need to find her. It's very important."
"I assure you, sir, that I have no idea where Sarah Connor is."
Unfortunately, the Father was telling the truth, and Wexton could see that. But that didn't mean he couldn't benefit from any other knowledge the Father might possess.
"Well, that is disappointing, but I'd like to know…are you a true believer?"
"I believe in God," Father Bonilla hedged.
"I'm sure you do. Or at least I hope you do, for your parishioners' sake. What I meant, though, is do you believe Sarah Connor? Because I am a true believer, and I am sensing that you are as well."
"I don't know what you are referring to," the Father lied. And Wexton could tell.
"Lying is a sin, Father."
"There are many other sins as well. Graver sins. Ones that I refuse to take part in."
And though the Father wasn't explicit, Wexton knew what he was trying to say. He was trying to say that he chose lying as the lesser sin in this situation.
"Then you are a true believer. If that is the case, then you know that when I tell you that Sarah Connor is in danger, that means something."
Father Bonilla flinched slightly, but otherwise didn't give any sign of breaking.
He leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk. "So if you see her, please warn her."
He left then and he pulled out a small device that served as the receiver for the bug he had planted. He placed the earphones in his ears and grinned as he heard the Father dial a number. Wexton made a mental note to match the tones afterward. After a moment of silence while the phone rang, Father Bonilla said to the person on the other end of the line, "They are looking for her. I do not think it is the police. A man came to me, I think he's one of them."
And now Wexton had a phone number and confirmation that the Father was communicating with Sarah Connor, even if it was indirectly.
"Cameron, I really need you to get dressed," John said as buckled his jeans and reached for his shirt. "We have work to do and I don't know if I can make myself leave this room while you're still lying in bed with no clothes on."
"Oh," she said, seeming genuinely surprised. John guessed it hadn't even occurred to her to get dressed, which seemed a bit strange to him, but he figured since this was all new to her, she was a bit thrown as to what was expected. She reached for the bits of her clothes she could reach before glancing around, looking as if she lost something.
"What?" he asked, taking a break from tying his shoe.
"I cannot locate my underwear," she said simply.
"Oh."
Unfazed, Cameron began to get dressed. Her bra first, then her jeans and tank top.
Guess she's going commando, John thought to himself as he finished with his shoes. Like that's not going to be distracting.
Before he could let himself dwell on that thought, John began to plan out loud. "First things first, I want to see if they can transfer my mom and Derek here. I'll feel more at ease with them close by."
"I'm sure we can have that arranged John," Cameron said helpfully while pulling on her boots.
"Then I need to find out where Alex went and track her down. I want her here too. The more people we have on our side, the better."
Cameron, now completely dressed, made her way over to John. He was in his desk chair, where he'd sat to put his shoes on.
"And while we're at it, we might as well see if we can get Dawes here. It'd be easier if everything was just in one place…I wonder if Weaver is going to transfer John Henry."
While John continued thinking aloud, Cameron placed herself between his legs and began brushing her fingers through his hair. She remembered from earlier times that this action seemed to calm him. He leaned forward and let his forehead rest on her abdomen.
"We need to get back to the truck."
"Why?" Cameron asked.
"We left the Triple-8 in there. I think I have an idea, but I need the Triple-8."
Cameron was sure that John knew that the Triple-8 was useless without its chip, which had been destroyed much like many of the recent terminators they'd recently deactivated. But she trusted John knew what he was doing, so she didn't comment on it. "I'm sure that can be arranged as well."
"And then I'll address the masses," John said, not sounding too thrilled. He stood up, ready to face what lay ahead. Or, at least, almost ready. He leaned forward and kissed Cameron for a long moment before pulling away.
"Okay, I'm ready."