NOTES: This is the sequel to my previous story "Only Lonely". I'd recommended reading that one first. This story takes place during "Strange Things Happen at the One Two Point".
SUMMARY: The truth of John and Cameron's relationship spreads to those willing to go to any lengths to undermine it.
DISCLAIMER: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.
"Fuzzy Dice"
Chapter 3
T.R. Samuels
Morning sunshine met the bustle of rush-hour traffic as Sarah Connor gunned the jeep through downtown Los Angeles. The city street sounded like the inane cacophony of a manic depressive choir, engines revving and horns blaring as tempers began to fray. Her vehicle alone remained a tranquil island as she shared a long and comfortable silence with the succinct passenger that was Cameron Phillips.
Cameron was wearing the most formal clothing she had for their meeting at Dakara, her usual attire a mishmash collection of casual t-shirts, functional jeans, and a broad assortment of footwear that was enough to equip an army. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun that John had liked, the net result an outfit that he said made her look like a lawyer.
As the world beyond had gone about its business, Cameron's mind had worked tirelessly to develop the perfect strategy of informing John's mother of their latest situation. A task not at all difficult on the surface, but Cameron had seen too many soap operas to be that naïve.
"Sarah," She began cautiously, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding. "There's something we need to discuss."
The older woman gave her a brief sideways glace as she made a turn with the wheel. "You know your part in this right?"
"Yes, I'm your financial advisor. I went to UCLA and have a degree in economics. My roommate was named Katie and she loved Black Sabbath."
"Excuse me?"
"John said that I needed to know 'the little details' so that my cover would be more convincing."
"I see. Then what do you want to discuss?"
Cameron felt a curious sensation occurring inside her, concerning her for a moment until she ran a scan, detecting no irregularities. John had warned her about butterflies, but she had quickly reassured him, despite his patient expression, that it was in fact a baby.
"It is something you are likely to have a strong reaction to."
Sarah was getting a little tired of the digs at her driving. "If I pull over and park will it make you feel better?"
"It… couldn't hurt."
Sarah rolled her eyes as she brought their vehicle to a stop at a set of traffic signals.
"Why don't you just tell me quick before the lights change."
Cameron resolved the uneasiness inside her as best she could, setting her jaw tightly before pressing ahead, her analysis suggesting the direct approach.
"John and I are having a baby."
As she waited for Sarah's response the signals switched from amber to green and their flow of traffic began to move.
After several seconds however, she realised that their car was not among them.
A horn sounded from behind them several times before the driver yanked on the wheel, tearing by in a squeal of rubber as he threw them the finger as he passed.
"Stupid bitc…"
His voice drowned out as he roared off into the distance and several other cars began voicing their disproval, dying out as the signals switched back to red.
"Sarah? You missed the lights."
Sarah Connor took several deep breaths, clearing her mind as she tried to breathe the fire out of her lungs, the vein across the side of her forehead throbbing mercilessly.
The obnoxious blaring of a car horn sounded again, this time from directly behind them, its driver a fat little man with a receding hairline.
Sarah suddenly grabbed her seatbelt release, springing it back from her body before stepping out of the jeep, the door bouncing on its hinges as she marched down the road in the relentless strides of T-1000. Cameron watched in astonishment as she approached the vehicle behind them, its ashen driver fumbling with the lock before she smacked both hands against the side of his door, the tiny car rocking violently on its suspension.
"I'm having a conversation and it's that time of the month!"
The driver remained rigid in terror as Sarah returned to the jeep, slamming the door shut behind her before casually redoing her belt, the cars behind now deafeningly silent.
All this time thinking she was in charge. All the speeches, the mantras, and the arguments. None of it had made the slightest difference with John. He'd just gone ahead anyway. Forged his own path. Straight into Cameron's embrace.
As she thought about it, the destiny John had laid out before him, a strange kind of clarity swept through her mind, bringing with it a debilitating epiphany.
Without warning or preamble, Sarah suddenly burst into laughter, an insatiable cackle tinged with hope and regret, sickened by a hopeless desperation. She looked at the machine, her smile mirroring on Cameron's face as the girls' shoulders began to shake.
For the next few minutes, the two women shared a crescendo of reciprocal laughter neither would ever forget.
####
The metal load protector of the truck rolled back as John Connor flattened the vehicle's tailgate, hefting some heavy cases across its cargo bed as he began lugging them up the stairway at the front of the house. Ahead of him, Derek Reece was bearing his own cargo but his attention remained focussed on a fatigued plastic strap he had recently removed.
Sarah and Cameron had departed hours ago, heading into the city for the appointment at Dakara. By now she must have told his mother the truth, sealing the fate of John's actions as he tried to find the nerve inside him to fulfil his part.
"Take a look at this." Derek thrust the strap forward for his inspection. "You see them? The three-dots on the belt."
As described, John saw the ubiquitous pattern that had recently entered their lives, the latest puzzle that had been dispensed from the bloody wall of knowledge scrawled in the basement.
"If you're going to talk about my mother when she's not even here…"
"No, I'm talking about the three-dots on this belt. I'm seeing them everywhere now. It's got me thinking how crazy this can make you. You start seeing things in every corner, on every wall. Pretty soon you forget what it was you were looking for in the first place. All of us, everyone."
"I remember. I always remember."
"Do you? Are you sure?"
John shook his head, becoming exasperated. "Derek… what the hell?!"
"Nothing I…I just need to know that you're seeing clearly." He struggled to explain, determined to impart what little he possessed in hard-earned wisdom. "I need to know at least someone is, but especially you."
"Yeah, I know. Big destiny and all."
"Hey! Don't just blow that off! You have any idea how lucky you are? I'd have killed for that kind of certainty in my life at your age! I'd kill for it now."
What John lacked in wisdom he offset with his skills of perception. Or perhaps Derek was too easy to read, since day one like an open book to John as he watched his uncle carry his heart around on his sleeve, his suit of proverbial armour worn wafer thin within the placid confines of the past.
"Derek, if there's something on your mind or that you need to ask me, just do it!"
He threw the gauntlet down with a sense of finality. There was no going back now.
"Okay… okay. What happened with you and Riley?"
"Nothing happened. She and I are through. Be happy about it."
Derek wasn't the least bit petty, his words tinged with magnanimity. "Don't get me wrong, I am happy, she wasn't good for you."
"Good to know. Anything else?"
John tried to sound as though her were being patient and accommodating, a shrewd tactic as he lured Derek into precipitating the inevitable revelation. After several second however, the soldier had not continued.
"Derek?"
His uncle looked at him with ambivalent eyes, no longer certain that he should pry any further.
"It's nothing. Forget it."
The momentum of the conversation began to disintegrate and John realised that he would have to meet him halfway.
"Alright… alright…" The frayed nerves within him took root in his spine, straightening his back as John found an untapped vestige of suicidal courage. "If you don't have the balls to ask I'm just going to have to tell you."
"John…"
"I want to tell you. I want you to know. I want everyone to know."
"It doesn't matter."
"The hell it doesn't!" John's words were laden with foreboding as his tone shifted gears. "I should have told you and mom earlier, but I didn't have the guts…"
Nephew and uncle regarded one another, sensing the precipice that was expanding between them, waiting for them to fall.
"Cameron's pregnant. I'm the father."
John's words were thrown down between them like a hand grenade, setting off a deafening silence that filled Derek with numb disbelief. The soldier slowly shook his head, looking at John as though he'd just shot his dog.
Anguish finally settled inside Derek like a war wound, making him look dazed and pale and sick to his stomach. It felt as though John and led him through a door and locked it behind them, changing things forever. When he spoke again his voice was a gravely whisper.
"She tricked you. She forced you to do it."
John shook his head. "I didn't need any convincing."
"Of course not, I've seen her. I'm not blind. She's a great piece of ass…"
"Don't talk about her like that!"
Derek looked at him as though he were a stranger, something unknown and otherworldly as his eyes scrunched together, his face contorting. "What's happened to you!?"
"It wasn't planned. But I don't regret anything. I'm glad that it happened."
The older man began shaking his head, denial his only salvation and recourse.
"Stop."
"I'm glad Cameron's having my baby…"
"Stop!"
"…I love her."
"I SAID SHUT THE HELL UP!!"
This hadn't gone as well as John had planned, hoping against hope for something resembling a rational conversation and wishing that perhaps someday, maybe, he wouldn't be so naïve.
"She's done something to you. Brainwashed you or something."
"My mind's never been clearer. We're going to have this baby no matter what…"
John's words drifted away into a distant echo as Derek's mind swam in hypoxia, his breathing curtailed as the blood in his veins pumped battery acid, sickening him to his core. He tried to take a step but his legs buckled beneath him, sending him down on to all fours where he pounded his fists onto the hardwood floor.
John tried to help him.
"Don't touch me! Get away!"
"It really isn't that bad, Derek! It's not that big a deal!"
The thought of that metal, that thing, carrying a baby inside it made his gorge rise, remembering vividly what the machines in the future had done with human infants, casting them aside like rag dolls after their mothers had delivered, piling them high in the corner of a ruined hospital room that had broken harden soldiers at the sight of it. He saw it now, the memory as clear and sharp as shattered glass; the crying and wailing, some of the men he knew eating a bullet from their own gun in the face of its hopelessness.
"Yeah, you're right," He finally spoke, finding his feet as he gave John an unsettling smile. "It's much better it happened with you. I wouldn't want my freak in its belly."
John closed his eyes, not wanting to hear any of this, resolving in his heart that he must.
"You should have seen her in the future John. She put out like a broken vending machine."
He felt the anger welling inside him, bolting it down with a lifetime of restraint and let Derek vent. This was the best he could have hoped for and now he was just going to have to take it.
"That's why you dumped Riley, isn't it. You traded up." His ugly leer was disturbing and John began feeling uncomfortable. "Why have a human girl when you can have a robot, huh?"
"Derek…"
"She'll do everything a real girl will do, but twice as good, right? In fact, why even bother with people, just get yourself a robot! Robots are better than people, aren't they John?!"
"Please don't do this."
Derek's smile vanished, replaced with a look of incredulousness. "Me don't do this? Maybe you should have told yourself that before you weighed anchor!"
"I'm not ashamed of anything I've done."
"You should be. Your father would be ashamed of you."
His words cut through John's heart like a cold and rusty blade, making him shake with adrenalin.
"Y'know, the more I get to know you Derek, the more I realise which brother must have been the bigger man."
"You never knew your father and you don't know me, and don't make me laugh by pretending that you know anything about being a man!"
"Maybe I don't, but I'm figuring it out." John smiled, looking Derek up and down like he was something unpleasant. "Look on the bright side, at least you taught me that it doesn't involve being an ignorant, racist asshole."
SMACK!
In a blur of motion Derek's fist connected with John's mouth with the force of a mace, sending him sprawling on his back against the unforgiving floor. He felt a metallic sting well up from his lip and instantly saw red, fury flashing through him like a bolt of lightning.
In as instant John was back on his feet and charged his uncle, defeating Dereks' defences as the two of them crashed together in a brutal and ugly struggle.
Furniture was overturned as glass and ceramic began shattering into thousands of pieces, the two combatants making every blow count as the raw emotion burst out of them both.
Derek growled as John drove his knee into the soldiers' ribs, ducking behind him to take him in a neck lock.
In seconds the older man was free, overpowering him with brute strength as the sum of Derek's rage was unleashed, tripping John downward with his leg and smashing his body across the coffee table. The furniture splintered apart as Derek began a merciless barrage of vicious strikes, beating John into oblivion as his fists became stained with blood.
He punched harder and harder, unable to stop. His eyes wide and feral. His entire being taking leave of his senses as a madness inside him consumed itself in a bloody and vengeful fury until John's body went limp.
####
Deep orange sunlight arced across the sky as the sun set on the horizon, the city falling into twilight as Sarah and Cameron pulled into the driveway, their mission to Dakara complete. Thick gravel crunched as the vehicle whined to a stop in the empty parking bay, doors clicking open as the two of them stepped out.
"Don't think I've forgotten," Sarah warned as they approached the house. "If John thought I was tyrannical before, then he's in for a shock."
Cameron gave her a laconic reply before she came to a stop, her eyes scanning the gravel, detecting a set of skids that tore out of the driveway, their width and depth consistent with the Connor family's Dodge Ram pick-up.
"What is it now?" Sarah enquired from the masonry steps.
"Where's the truck?"
Sarah was tired, just wanting to lie down and take off her heals. "Maybe they went out."
Cameron turned back to the house, unconvinced as she moved up the front steps, passing Sarah and approached the front door, twisting the handle and creaking it open. The feeling hit her like the ricochet of a bullet as she stepped inside, seeing the overturned furniture and scattered glass, the lounge a tattered ruin.
Her mind fled to only one thing.
"John?!"
She reached behind her, yanking out her Glock-17 in one swift movement as Sarah stepped beside her and did the same.
"JOHN?!" His mother called, panic in her voice as she chambered a round.
"In here."
Cameron's head twitched like an eagle's at the sound of his voice, drawing them both to the kitchen where John was leaning over the sink. Lowering their weapons, Cameron stepped closer to him as she detected his ease.
"John what…" Her voice died away as she looked at him.
The left side of his face was a bloody mess, a horizontal laceration marring his cheek and his lip was cut, both injuries bleeding like war wounds as he tried to dab them with a ruined towel.
Sarah was instantly by his side. "Oh my God, John! What happened?!"
"Nothing… it was my fault."
Sarah pushed Cameron aside and gently took her son's face in her hands. Her fingertips pressing gently as she looked at his wounds.
"John. Who did this?" Her tone was firm but kind as she watched a play of emotions ghost John's face, culminating in a twisting sadness as his eyes closed together.
She recognised what he was feeling. A sick version of fear that could only be borne from betrayal.
"What is it?" Cameron asked, not comprehending.
Sarah leaned forward and kissed John tenderly on his undamaged cheek, pulling him into an embrace as she cradled his head.
"John, I want you to sit down and let Cameron look at you." She steadied him as she pulled back a chair, ushering him down to the head of the kitchen table, allowing Cameron to step in as her phone buzzed to life.
Sarah dug in her pocket and removed the device, her eyes turning dark as she glanced at the screen, slipping from the room without a word.
"I guess your talk went better than mine." John tried to smile as he winced through the pain.
The look on Cameron's face soon dashed any levity, her eyes wide apart as she surveyed the damage.
"It was not as adversarial as I had anticipated."
Seeing through the formality, John took her hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze.
"Hey, I'm alright."
"I'm not."
First aid forgotten, emotion erupted through John and she took him in her arms, clinging to her, burying his head against her chest as she kissed his hair.
After stepping out onto the patio, Sarah pressed the tiny green button on her phone, raising it to her ear as her eyes and jaw set like industrial diamond.
"Hello?"
A series of tones followed, identifying the caller.
"You're a dead man, Reese."
"Sarah… I'm sorry."
"NO!!! You don't get to be sorry! You're not fit to be in the same gene pool as Kyle!" Her voice was deadly, every word thundering out beneath her breath.
"Y'know, a few hours ago I would have agreed with you. I'd have stood shoulder to shoulder with you to give them the talk. Then you hurt my boy and now you're fucking dead! No matter where you go, I'm going to find you and I'm going to blow your fucking brains out you bastard!! You better pray Cameron finds you before I do!!"
She stabbed the phone's end button before hurling it against the nearest wall, the small device smashing into oblivion as fury boiled through her like she had never felt before; cursing the day she ever heard the name Derek Reese.
Her hands balled together on the brickwork stair ledge, gnawing her molars in a painful grind as she beat down her need for revenge.
What galled her more than anything and twisted her soul was the thought that if she'd left John alone with Cameron, if for a minute or a year; she knew down to her bones that the machine would never hurt him.
No matter what he said or did, she would never hurt John.
Not like this. Not leave him broken and bleeding and take his dignity away.
A perverse smile graced her mouth as her mind arrived at an impossible conclusion, realising with no shortage of melancholy that for the first time ever; she was actually grateful that John and Cameron were together.
####
With the saturnine motions of a condemned man, Derek drew the phone down from his ear, taking great care to lock the keypad before sliding the device into his jacket pocket.
Sarah's words rang through him like a death knell, the portent of a welcome doom.
After leaving the house he had dived into the truck and just driven, as far as he could without destination, across the city until he came to a rundown bar on some back route to north L.A. From the outside it had looked as inviting as a headache, its neon sign flickering and flashing to the beat of a machine gun. He'd walked inside, waded through the smoky gloom and parked himself at the bar, finding the nerve somewhere within him to make the call to Sarah.
What have I done?
He looked straight ahead, finding his reflection beyond a jungle of florescent bottles where jaded orbs glistened back at him like wet stones.
In a shaky gesture he raised his hand, the skin on his knuckles broken and red, his voice little more than a hoarse murmur.
"Whiskey."
The bartender dutifully complied, a mountain of a man who looked as though he split his time equally between tending bar and working out. He placed a remarkably clean glass down on a tissue coaster, filling its circular reservoir with the brown liquid of a tall square bottle.
Derek took the glass and downed it in a single gulp, barely feeling anything as placed it back down.
"Reload."
The glass was refilled and he repeated his action.
"Reload."
The bartender regarded him for several seconds. "How about I just leave the bottle? Save me the trouble of standing here."
Derek's response was a silent nod before he was finally left alone. He snatched the bottle, pouring another glass quickly, causing unforgivable spillage before bringing it to his mouth, repeating the action again and again in the cyclic actions of a conveyor belt.
"Hey, pal. Are you gonna cause trouble?" The bartender had returned, patience waning. "You kick off and you'll find yourself in a world of hurt."
Derek reached inside his jacket in a robotic motion, removing an impressive wad of green notes from which he peeled off a handful. The bartender was dumbstruck as they were placed in his hand, close to four-hundred bucks.
"I just want my drink and to be left alone."
"You got it."
From the other end of the bar a pair of leather clad bikers watched the exchange, their gazes following the roll of notes as Derek stuffed them back into his jacket. One glanced at the other before they pushed back from the bar, striding toward Derek where they loomed up beside him.
"Hey, pal! What's with the display?"
The two were as ugly has they came as Derek watched them in the mirror, the leader chomping on a dirty cigar.
"What's a pretty boy like you drinking in this dive? No wine bars open?"
The dynamic-duo chuckled at their own joke as Derek's hand slid down from his bottle of Jack Daniel's.
"I'm looking to break some asshole's nose."
The biker's face set like stone, eyeing the soldier up and down.
"What's that?"
"Funny, that's what I asked when your mom got undressed."
In a blur of motion the lead biker took a swing at him, missing as Derek kicked the stool out from under himself and ducked to the side, grabbing the back of the guy's head and slamming it forward into the bar, dropping him into an unconscious pile.
In a cacophony of screeching, the chairs of seven burly bikers pushed back from their tables, each eyeing Derek with murderous intent.
####
The door to the bar's condemned bathroom burst open and a biker fell to the floor, his cloths soaking through as Derek followed close behind him, holding one of his greasy pals in an iron headlock before cracking his head against the corner of the sink. The fallen biker watched his buddy drop hard to the floor as Derek loomed over him; ice in his eyes as the bleeding bartender in the bar beyond jabbed at the keys of a beaten up phone box.
"Stand-up."
The biker shook his head and raised his hands in mercy.
Derek grabbed him and pulled him to his feet.
"Hit me!"
"What?!"
"I want you to hit me as hard as you can!"
"You're crazy!"
"DO IT!!"
Clawing back what remained of his shattered nerves, the biker swung, delivering a blow to Derek's face before tearing off through the bar, passing his fallen comrades as he body slamming his way out through the front door, running off into the night.
Derek felt the numbing pain well up as blood began sliding from his nose, turning to the washbasin and running some cold water. His hands cupped together under the stream, letting the cool water slid through them as he reached for the slab of industrial soap. He washed the blood from his hands, white suds turning pink, slipping the ruined bar back on its holder before splashing some water on his face.
His gaze pulled upward to the mirror, seeing a sad old man looking back, a worn out soldier who felt as though he had struggled through every single one of his thirty-two years.
A decade of warfare against an inhuman enemy, countless missions, watching his friends torn apart, eating rats to survive and gradually losing the feeling in his legs as the bitter cold had worked its way in.
All that honour and respect he had earnt through blood and hardship. All washed away in a single moment.
Images of John's face flashed through his mind. His brother's boy. Humanity's saviour. Bloodied and beaten on the floor.
Derek looked again at his murky image, grief flashing at the heartless injustice of it all before he drove his fist into the glass, smashing his reflection into a thousand scraggy lines.
I really wanted to take Derek to rock bottom in this. He's lost his brother, his lover, and all his friends and now he's lost John and Sarah; the latter by his own doing through a single, angry mistake. There's just a terrible injustice somewhere in all that.
Please read and review. Don't be scared to go into detail about what you liked or disliked.