Disclaimer - Not mine

He poured over the plans spread out on the table while the young woman he kept close by his side twirled and leapt around the crowded place. The only sounds were of her bare feet striking the floor and the muted whispers as she hummed under her breath. He was so accustomed to her presence that he didn't realize she had ceased her dancing until he felt her fingers on his jaw. Sighing, he let her lift his chin up.

"What?" he asked tersely.

Her eyes were thoughtful as she traced one finger from his hairline down to his eyebrow before jumping to just below his eye and continuing down his cheek, stopping with the deeply indented scar ended and cupping his face in her hand.

"This scar. How'd you get it?"

His jaw clenched.

"You've always had it. It's a part of you. Some people with scars, they detract from them and the scar is all you see. It's not that way with you. You wouldn't be you without it. I only notice every now and then but whenever I do I wonder what it was that hurt you so badly. I wish I had been there to stop it."

He placed his hand over hers, closing his eyes.

"It was years ago, on Judgment Day. I was caught by a flying piece of broken pipe. Still don't know how it missed my eye."

She gazed at him steadily for a moment. "There's more to it than that."

"I told you more just now than I've told anyone ever."

She opened her mouth to speak and he raised one hand, pulling away from her touch and looking her in the eye. "This subject is closed. Do not bring it up again, soldier. Understood?"

There was defiance in her eyes, but she nodded her consent.

"Go do the rounds and report back," he ordered, dropping his eyes to blueprints he could no longer focus on. He kept his gaze on the table as she slipped her boots on and left the room.

John rubbed his hand along his face and let himself remember.

The rusty pipe flew through the air and he was frozen in place, unable to duck. The force of it knocked him off his feet, sent him rolling backwards, end over end, for several yards to land hard on his stomach. He was blinded, for a moment by the pain and then by a warm wetness that seeped into one eye. He raised his head up in time to see the cyborg snap his mother's neck and toss her to the side like a piece of useless garbage. She marched toward him then, slow, steady, and resolute in her mission.

"One day one of those things is going to kill you."

"It won't be this one."

The conversation between him and Derek played through his mind as he tugged the pocket watch from under his shirt and wrenched the face open on it. She was feet from him when he hit the switch. Cameron spasmed and fell, the smell of burnt hair permeating the area as her scalp caught fire. John sank to the ground, blood dripping into his lap, and let the pain drag him under.

The door opening brought him forcefully back to the present, one hand going for a gun. Allison stood just inside the room, hands raised, an indefinable expression on her face. He lowered the gun and she shut and locked the door, moving quickly to him and perching on his lap, wrapping her arms around him and pulling her head to his chest.

He permitted her this for a few moments before pulling away.

"John…"

"Stop it, Allison."

"No, John, you stop it. Why do you always lock yourself away?"

"I can't depend on you."

"What? Why do you think that?"

"Because one day soon, you'll be dead."