In the Hands of an Angry Machine

Chapter Ten: No Brother of Mine

A/N: I'd like to thank Metroid13 for beta-reading this chapter. His advice has proven invaluable.

Kyle left the Waffle House with John right behind him. Cameron walked towards them. Sunlight glinted off metal along the right side of her head, and Kyle knew something had happened. His conditioning kept him calm, but he could feel his body temperature drop. Who did this?

"Wh-," John started.

"Derek's in the trunk," Cameron said, stopping a few feet in front of them.

"Derek?" Kyle asked. No.

Cameron flashed him a look of vague annoyance. The corner of her mouth twitched. "Yes. Derek. Your brother." She turned around and walked back to her sedan. Kyle and John followed.

"But -- " John began again.

Kyle interrupted. "Derek . . . ?" No. It couldn't be. "What . . . What happened?" he asked.

She didn't look back as she spoke. "Jesse shot me. Derek tried to remove my chip."

Kyle glanced at her hands; her fingers twitched, slightly. She's upset. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." she said in monotone.

Kyle examined the damage to her head. The bullet had ripped a metal channel along her right ear, removing most of it, and someone -- Derek? -- had cut around her port. He felt his heart rate increase, and his jaw tightened.

This had happened before, back in his time. An assassin had broken into her quarters and shocked her into a reboot. He had already pulled out her chip when Kyle had arrived. The man had had it in his hands, and had been ready to snap it in two when Kyle's bullets entered his brain. It had been close. He remembered Cameron had been visibly shaken after the ordeal. She hadn't expected to wake up again.

And now she's dead -- and will never exist. Kyle pushed that thought aside. He had a new Cameron to think about now. And a new future to build.

"Oh my God, Cam . . . " John whispered, and idly poked a finger into her wound, feeling the ridges of the torn metal. Cameron flinched her head away.

"Sorry," John said.

Kyle restrained an impulse to shove him to the ground. "Don't you dare touch her!" he thought.

Without another word, Cameron opened the drivers side door and popped the trunk. Kyle tentatively stepped over and looked inside. Behind him, he heard John gasp.

Derek.

He laid on the floor of the trunk on his stomach, his arms tied behind him with a jumper cable. His right hand appeared broken, and hung on his wrist at an odd angle.

My brother. Kyle's skin grew clammy, and he had to force his eyes not to water. No. This couldn't be Derek. Not his Derek, anyway. His brother was dead.

But then, why was any Derek here? Right now his brother should be eleven years old. Was he from John's future? Or what? He'd have to ask someone to fill him in later.

"Derek" opened his eyes and blinked back water. Unfocused pupils blearily wandered up to meet his own. "Kyle?" the man asked in a broken voice.

"He's not my brother," he thought and steeled his emotions. His Derek would never attack Cameron. Kyle swallowed. "Let's get him inside," he said.

Derek awoke in a world of pain and darkness. He tried to move and bone grinding agony greeted him in his chest. And his right hand -- it felt like someone had torn it off. He blinked back wetness. Where was he? What happened?

He turned his head to look around, and it kept on turning. And spinning. Am I underwater? Nausea swept over him.

What was that? He listened.

Voices?

In an instant, the darkness swept away in a wave of blinding light. A shadowy figure stood above him, and Derek looked up. His eyes refused to focus but . . . It couldn't be. I must be dead.

"Kyle?" he said.

Hadn't . . . Cameron? . . . said something about Kyle? And Jesse? Something bad had happened. He was sure of it.

His brother spoke. "Let's get him inside." His voice sounded different. Dead. Cruel. Soulless.

Behind Kyle, John and Cameron came into view. The three looked down on him, and the machine's eyes narrowed. Derek swore he saw the hint of a smile.

It all came back to him.

Oh, fuck. What have I done?

Harsh hands grabbed him and lifted him up. A white hot knife plunged into the center of his chest and twisted. He screamed and the darkness returned once more.

Sarah limped around the hotel room. She couldn't afford to be bed-ridden; she had to get back on her feet again. She had woken up an hour ago, and had spent that time clenching her teeth in pain. Her leg wasn't that bad; but it gave a sharp throb with every step. But at least she could get by on her own -- if she did a little waddle as she walked.

After a while the pain grew too much. I've suffered enough. For now. Sarah slumped down in a chair and sighed. Things were a mess.

Kyle was going to be a problem. John would naturally think of him as his father, and Kyle's dangerous ideas could lead him astray. The future Cameron must have planned all this. She had sent her pet back to contaminate John's humanity, to turn him into one of them: a soulless abomination. All those lies about "loving" John . . . She -- it -- was confusing him. It had tricked him into thinking of it as a person. Sarah was going to lose her son to a machine. She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't let that happen.

The sound of voices and footsteps came from outside. Sarah pulled out Kyle's .38 revolver from the nightstand drawer. Cameron was due to return from meeting with Derek, or it could be John and Kyle, but she hadn't lived this long by being careless.

The voices drew nearer and took on a frenzied tone, like an argument. Sarah thumbed back the hammer of her pistol.

The front door knob shook for a moment, then unlocked, and the door swung open. John and Cameron came in with Kyle behind them. Over his shoulder Kyle carried a body.

"What the hell happened?" Sarah said as she bolted up from her seat, or at least tried to. Her leg gave out and she fell back into the chair, gritting her teeth.

Then she saw the body's face. Derek?

"Derek attacked Cameron," John said.

"He's working with Jesse." Kyle added.

"He tried to remove my chip," Cameron said. The skin covering her CPU port flapped loosely on her head. And her ear . . . Cameron tossed a duffle bag on the dresser, along with a Barreta.

Kyle unceremoniously dumped Derek into a chair in the corner of the room.

"Jesse?" Sarah asked. "The one Riley's working for?"

"Yes," Cameron said. "Corporal Flores. She and Derek set up an ambush."

She? Hadn't Derek mentioned the name Jesse once? Sarah tried to remember when. She was pretty sure he had called Jesse a he, that, and he had told her Jesse was dead. She glared at Derek and balled her fists. Conspire against John? How could he?

"We have to get him to a hospital," said John.

"No," Sarah snapped. "Let's find out what he knows, first."

John looked at Derek, then at her. "But he could die."

"She's right, John," Kyle said as he checked Derek's eyes. "He's got a concussion. We better be quick."

Sarah pushed herself up and hobbled over to stand with the others. She put a hand on John's shoulder for support. He shirt felt slightly damp. Sweat?

"Right," Kyle said, and with the back of his hand, he slapped Derek across the face. Sarah winced as a red mist sprayed from his mouth.

Pain. A crunch. The taste of blood. Something loose in his mouth? It didn't matter. It didn't hurt. Much. Derek floated.

I'm under the sea.

No. That's stupid. Someone just hit you in the face. Derek opened his eyes to blurred lights and colors.

Another hit. Across the other cheek. More blood. Derek tried to get up, but his legs refused to work, and his arms were bound behind him.

"Jesus," a voice said. "You have to hit him that hard?"

John?

"Wake up," another voice commanded. Kyle's . . .?

Kyle's face emerged from the surrounding blur. Eyes of cold fury gazed down upon him. Hard eyes. Cruel. Those aren't the eyes of my brother.

A hand touched his neck. "How long have you been working with Jesse?" Cameron's voice asked from behind.

"Fuck you, metal!" Derek said, and spat out something hard.

More slapping. Blood ran from his nose, and the skin of his face felt aflame. Inside his skull his brain spun like a top.

"Stop it!" he heard his nephew cry out.

Two Kyles glared at him. "Answer her question," they said in unison.

"Kyle . . . " Derek said through swelling lips. ". . . you're my brother."

"My brother died in Siberia. You tried to murder Cameron," Kyle replied. "Whoever you are, you are no brother of mine!"

Siberia? What the fuck? "Who are you?" Derek asked.

Kyle merged back into one and knelt down, his face inches away from his own. "My brother could switch off his pain." Kyle smiled; his teeth looked like they had been capped. "I bet you wish you could do that." A blur smashed Derek in the nose, and he felt cartlidge snap. Agony snaked into his brain.

He heard Kyle chuckle.

"That's enough!" Sarah said.

Derek rolled his head around. His eyes grew a fresh set of tears. Oh, fuck me . . . Siberia? Why couldn't things make sense? Derek began to fall into a black hole.

Someone lifted his head back up. Cameron spoke. "Did you know Jesse was here?" Her hand gave his neck a firm squeeze.

Cameron. He's at the mercy of the machine. Again. At least there wasn't any of that fucking music. "Yes," he said, trying not to whimper. His nose felt numb, like it had been cut off.

"Did you know about Jesse's conspiracy with Riley?" she asked.

"No." His bladder began to burn. Don't piss yourself, God damn it.

"Why did you try to kill me?"

"You're a threat." Derek said "To John." He glanced at his nephew; the hard eyes of General Connor stared back. Derek tried to grin.

"Then why didn't you let Jesse finish me off?" Cameron asked.

Derek hesitated. Should he bring up Jesse killing John? Or his scheme about reading her chip? No. That sounded stupid. But she'd know if he was lying. Maybe he could just avoid mentioning it? It certainly wouldn't help his case any, him fucking John's killer and all that. But the metal knew about Jesse and it hadn't brought it up . . . maybe it would help? Oh, Jesus, my fucking head. If only he could think strai--

"Why didn't you let Jesse finish me off?" Cameron repeated, and squeezed harder.

Got to say something. Probably not leaving this chair alive anyway . . .

"Look," Derek finally said. "I didn't know Jesse was doing anything to John." He suddenly laughed and licked at his own blood. It tasted like copper. "Riley . . . you know why Jesse was using her, right?" From the corner of his eye Sarah came into view. He smiled. "It's to keep . . . " He nodded at Cameron with his head. ". . . that thing away from . . . " He looked back at Sarah. ". . . your son." He laughed harder and knives swam through his chest, causing him to succumb to a fit of coughing. Blood bubbles grew out of his nose. God, his head hurt.

Cameron let go of his neck and stepped around to look at his face.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, her voice frighteningly calm.

"Do I have to spell it out?" Derek said through the blood in his mouth. "In the future -- Jesse's future, whatever -- John's fucking the machine. Jesse told me. She -- it's -- been with him the whole time. Twenty years. The future's changed." Four faces stared down at him. John looked shocked. Sarah horrified. Kyle angry. The metal . . . confused. She -- it -- cocked its head at him.

"They're going to kill me," Derek decided. He didn't particularly care. But at least Sarah would be on his side; she hated the metal too. Or at least she should. Maybe he'll still be able to salvage . . .

"In the future, Corporal Flores killed John Connor," Cameron said.

Oh well. Derek's eyes closed and his head rolled back. Was it bullet time? So sleepy . . .

"What?" he heard John ask.

"Corporal Flores killed you." Cameron's voice explained to John. "I shot her and sent myself back. She's must have survived and come back as well."

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" asked Sarah.

"It didn't seem relevant."

"'Didn't seem relevant?'" Sarah mocked. "Why didn't it seem relevant?"

"John had been forty-three years old in 2027. Now he will be thirty-five." Cameron paused. "History has been changed. It didn't seem relevant." Another pause. "And you wouldn't have trusted me unless you thought John had sent me back."

"Fuck this," Derek thought. "She's lying!" he shouted, his eyes still closed. "Jesse wouldn't do that. Don't listen to her, John!"

A punch landed over his left eye. Flashing lights danced on the inside of his head. Derek instinctively tried to jump up, but an iron grip pushed him back down. "Shut the fuck up, Derek!" John shouted. "What makes you think I can trust you? You knew about Jesse."

Derek opened his right eye, his left already swelling shut. "She's a machine, John. Lying is what they do." He stared John in the eye. General Connor turned back into his nephew and looked away. Yeah, that's what I thought. He looked over at his brother. Kyle glowered at him; he didn't look away.

"How do we know?" asked Sarah.

Cameron answered. "I'm not designed for extensive combat. If John had sent back a protector, he would have chosen a T-triple-eight, and he would probably send back more than one."

No one said anything. That seemed to satisfy everyone. The machine won. Fucking great. Derek closed his eye and felt himself slipping. His head had stopped hurting. Was that good or bad?

"What are we going to do with him?" he heard John ask.

Kyle and Cameron answered as one. "We should kill him."

Fuck it.

Derek passed out.

"We should kill him," Cameron and Kyle said in unison.

"No!" John said, though he wasn't quiet sure why. Derek had tried to kill Cameron? What if he had succeeded? Maybe I should let him die. No, that'd be wrong.

"No one's killing anyone," said his mom. John saw she held Kyle's revolver by her side.

"He tried to kill Cameron," Kyle said.

"So?" his mom said with an angry grin. "It sounds like he had good reason." She gave her son a withering look.

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to kill him," he said. "This isn't up for debate."

His mom began to raise her pistol, but Kyle moved fast. In a blink he had rushed past John and grabbed his mom by the throat; his other hand had a hold of her right arm, keeping her gun pointed at the ground.

"Drop it," Kyle demanded.

"Stop it!" John said. Kyle could kill her in an instant, he knew. John looked over at Cameron; her hand was behind her, ready to draw her Glock.

John eyes shot to Derek's Barreta on the dresser. He ran over and snatched it up, pulling back the slide and releasing the safety. Aiming it at Kyle's head, he took a couple steps back.

"Let her go!" John said, his sweaty palms rubbing against the grip. He kept his finger on the trigger guard.

Kyle looked at him down the sights and gave him a thin smile. "I will, when she drops her gun. Put down the gun, John." Kyle winked, and -- just for an instant -- his eyes flashed blue.

All up and down his body, John felt hairs shift and move, like crawling bugs. He ignored the urge to drop the gun. How "augmented" is he? A 9mm to the head? John suddently felt sick.

"It's all right John," Cameron said. John heard her pull out her Glock.

"Drop it," Kyle said again. His mom spat in his face, but the gun fell from her hands. Kyle remained motionless and held her in place. Then, with one swift and efficient movement he released her and snatched up the pistol from the floor. Sarah said nothing and rubbed her neck, her eyes full of poison.

John threw his gun on the bed. Did I do the right thing?

Kyle leaned against the dresser. "He's a threat, John," he said. "He tried to kill Cameron."

"We can't just murder him," John said with a growl. He felt his body tremble, and his skin felt cold. He clenched his fist and rubbed his knuckles from where he had punched Derek.

Cameron's hand touched him on his shoulder.

"It's all right, John," she said. "We won't kill Derek."

Kyle looked at Cameron with alarm. "What?"

"We won't kill Derek," she repeated.

"Why?" Kyle asked.

"Because he's my uncle!" John said.

Kyle's mouth hung open; he gaped at John.

There was a very long pause.

Followed by an awkward silence.

"Your Uncle?" Kyle asked.

"Yes."

"And that means . . . ?" asked Kyle.

"Yes."

Kyle turned back to Sarah and gave her a sour look. She shot him daggers and scowled. Slowly, Kyle sat down on the end of the bed and fidgeted with the gun in his hand. He sighed.

"Right," he said. "Fine. I suppose that . . . explains a lot." He frowned and looked up at John, and John saw something between desolation and . . . fear in his father's eyes. "All right -- 'son,'" Kyle said with a sneer. "What do you suggest?"

All eyes in the room -- except Derek, who had passed out -- stared at John. He skin suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, but he forced himself to think. The solution came readily. "We drive him a hospital and drop him off in the entryway," John said. "If he has a concussion, he needs to go to one anyway."

"He'll just come after her again, later." said Kyle.

"He won't know where we are," John explained. "We're going to have to move anyway. Get new identities." He shook his head. "We can't be 'Baums' anymore."

His mother cut in, "He's a wanted man, John. He could end up in prison."

"Well, he should have thought of that before he attacked Cameron, shouldn't he?"

His mother's mouth drew into a line, and she glared at Cameron, who's hand still rested on John's shoulder. Cameron took her hand off.

"It's better than being dead, anyway," John added, even though he wasn't sure if that was true. He didn't want to find out, either.

Kyle made an elaborate shrug. "Fine. I'll drop him off." He stood up. "He's 'my' brother, after all."

"No," his mom said. "I'm coming with you."

"I don't need your help," Kyle said as he walked over lifted up Derek's unconscious form, slinging him over his shoulder. Derek made a burbling grunt.

"No," his mom said again. "I'm coming with you. We need to talk."

"Fine," Kyle said. He turned towards John. "I still think this is a mistake." Kyle put the revolver down on the dresser and offered his mom a hand. She brushed it away, and he walked out the door, she limping behind him.

Before she left she turned back to her son. "Are you all right, John?," she asked.

John nodded his head. "Sure. I'm fine."

His mom nodded "Good. I'll be back later. Okay?"

"Okay," John said, and offered a tired smile.

"Bye," she said, and took a moment to frown at Cameron before closing the door behind her.

John sat down on the bed where Kyle had been moments earlier. He took a deep breath and held it in; for the first time he realized how fast his heart was beating. He almost felt dizzy, like he stood up too fast after sitting down for so long. He breathed out, slowly.

Kyle. And the gun. That could have ended very badly.

Cameron came over and sat next to him and said nothing. He glanced sideways at her.

In the future I'll be . . . with . . . Cameron? And that's why . . . Riley. And Jesse . . . All that, just to keep him from . . . with Cameron? He curled his fists. Riley, Jesse, and even Derek. All using him. Manipulating him. A series of puppet-masters, pulling his strings to control his life.

But if a puppet sees its strings, can it pull back?

Not everything he had thought on that roof had been crazy. He was growing tired of all this future finagling.

He took another breath and listened as his heart slowed down.

Future Cam had said she loved him -- and he had thrown that love back in her face. But now he had a second chance. Could I actually love . . .

Cameron touched him on the arm. "John?" she asked with concern.

John turned his head and smiled at her. She smiled back.

"Why not?" a voice inside him asked.

Derek had tried to remove her chip.

Without her consent.

A month ago, John had done the same, but at the time that had been the right thing to do. Cameron had been trying to kill him. She remembered how that primal directive, like an unspoken voice, had commanded her to terminate John Connor. She had shot at him. She had thrown a wrench at him. She had tortured Sarah . . . The irritated sensation grew in intensity, and more memories flooded her mind: John pulling out her chip while she laid trapped between the two trucks . . . Derek crouching over her, pliers in his hand . . . Waking up covered with thermite . . . the memories cycled through again and again. She tried to repress them, but fragments continued to surface.

She would have killed John if he hadn't removed her chip. John had done the right thing. His actions were justified.

Derek's were not.

Derek's words had been untrue. In the future, Cameron had never engaged in sexual intercourse with John. And she had only been with him for three months, not twenty years. Jesse had lied to Derek. Derek had been misled.

Derek should be killed. He is a threat.

Cameron sat down on the bed next to John. His uncle had betrayed him, and he had pulled a weapon on his father to protect his mother. He appeared distressed.

She watched as John's hands clenched into fists.

"John?" she asked. She touched his arm. His skin contained high apocrine sweat secretions. A sign of too much stress.

He turned to look at her, and smiled. Cameron smiled back.

"Are you really all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm all right."

She hesitated. "John," she said. "You said you'd teach me right from wrong."

"Yeah?"

"Is it wrong to hold grudges?"

John appeared confused for a moment. "Yeah, I think so."

"Do you hold a grudge against me? About your birthday?" She put her hand over his.

He looked at her hand and shook his head. "No, I told you. That wasn't your fault." Cameron stared at him, and he made a sheepish grin. "Well, yeah. I did hold it against you for a while . . . but not any more." John looked her in the eyes. "I promise."

John was telling the truth. The was satisfactory.

"Should I hold a grudge against Derek?"

John frowned and looked thoughtfully at the floor. "I wouldn't blame you if you did." He looked back at her. "I'm sorry, about what he tried to do to you. He had no right." His gaze wandered back to the floor. "Derek's a dick."

A 'dick' is a man who is regarded as mean or contemptible. Cameron found herself in agreement with John's assessment.

John shook his head. "I thought I knew him," he said. "I don't know what his problem is."

In the future, Cameron had orchestrated the kidnapping and interrogation of Derek -- at John's orders. She decided not to mention this. Instead, she said, "He's angry because he thinks you're fucking me. In the future."

John's heart-rate increased and his cheeks became flushed. She had made him uncomfortable. The word 'fuck' is considered a vulgar word.

"Having sex," she corrected.

John laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's . . . that's . . . that was kinda weird."

Cameron cocked her head. "Why?"

"Oh, I . . . uh . . . I didn't mean . . . " The redness of his face increased.

Cameron answered her own question. "Derek thinks it's inappropriate. That's why he tried to kill me."

John sighed, and his face tightened in anger. "I don't give a fuck what Derek thinks! Or mom. Or Kyle. Or anyone." His eyes accumulated moisture. "They don't have the right to treat you like shit. You've saved my life. I'd be dead right now if it weren't for you -- or will be dead in the future if you hadn't come back." He paused and looked at the knuckles on his right hand. He rubbed at them. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? About Jesse."

"It'd upset you," she explained. "I thought I had killed her. I'm sorry."

He smiled. "Sorry? For saving me?" He laughed. "Cam, you're the only one I trust anymore."

John trusted her. Cameron felt a satisfactory sensation. She wondered what it meant.

John went to the side of the bed and pulled out a first-aid kit. Kyle had picked it up on his supply run. "Here," he said, sitting back down next to her. He popped the plastic latches and opened it up. "Let's see what we can do about your head, okay?"

"Okay," she said.