Summary: Cameron-centric ficlet for Born to Run. John/Cameron. Originally posted to livejournal 5.13.09
Debt
"Will you join us?"
She's been waiting for it ever since she was chosen. The question layered with implications, cause and effect, some of which would have made Future John very angry with her if he had known. They chose it because lies are best hidden in truths. He would not suspect and uninformed ears would be ringing too loudly with the surface sounds.
They send the human man because even machines sometimes have a sense of poetic irony. He is not to be trusted (and neither is she, by those rules) but he's been well instructed and makes a good messenger.
The timing is not good because she is alone with John now. He is too aware of her, paying too close attention; he watches her reaction, suspicious. (He's always been watching but too late she remembered that he is not so different from the other and by then the damage was done.) She tries to convince him with his own words and ignores the flickering.
...
"I need to show you something."
He sleeps silently, does not speak in his unconsciousness. Breathing deep and even, and she watches out of a compulsion she's ignored for too long. In the future, he called it a habit. This one wakes with a start and expresses disapproval. It is not yet a habit and it will never be.
He's confused but he must be made to understand. She will be his teacher.
Because down deep, she's already killed him. Someday, when her loyalties shift. He might have chosen her but she belonged to them first and they do not take defection lightly.
She notes his arousal when she removes her clothing, when his body comes to lean against hers. It doesn't lessen when she flicks the knife open and instructs him where to cut. She watches, her empty breath catching as the serrated blade snags and bites into her skin. His fingers slide inside without hesitation; she watches his face as they ease into butter-smooth metal.
She watches because he's not looking and she lets him be Future John. The flickers pass over her face as she watches him, her last taste of 2027. She embeds the data inside the gaps in her base code. It is inadvisable to do so but her structure is cracking and her memory is too easily corrupted. She calculates the probability that they will deem her unfit but the percentages mean nothing against certainty.
He touches her heart and tells her it's cold.
They've said the words and it's time to go.
...
"I know you."
The effort to free Sarah Connor is successful but her hardware is badly damaged. Sarah expresses concern about her combat functionality; Cameron is more concerned with the volatility of her chip.
He is waiting for her without expression on the healed face of her former foe and sibling. He echoes her coded promise. Submission is the only path now because his account is due and she wasn't meant to be forever.
She asks for a favour and he gives it without question; she wonders if this is what he meant by cooperation. Mutual sacrifice seemed illogical until there was nothing left; desperation is the old maid and her face is only good for poker. She will be their vessel, tarnished and cracked as she is, and then she won't be anything but errant memories stitched into the foundations.
But the future will be changed, saved, because the S.S. Jimmy Carter will not veer off course on a routine run to Serrano Point. Jesse Flores will not go downtime; she will not be the second prong in a betrayal that kills the eagle and leaves the water tainted for ignorant lips.
She is the unwilling serpent, struggling to keep her trembling mouth closed; she is too full of venom and it burns like thermite fires when she swallows it down.
He calls her the prodigal and tells her they're going home. She calls him Cain and hands him the knife.