Waiting at the bottom was Ally. Derek either set this meeting up or sensed its relevance, but in any event, he moved on after giving John a nod.
"I'll see you in the kitchen, John," Derek said.
John watched Derek until he rounded the corner, leaving the two of them alone. An uncomfortable silence remained for a moment as the two exchanged penetrating glares, broken only when the ropes were suddenly pulled upward and one of the guards replaced the metal plate three stories above, sending a harsh echo through the facility.
The two reflexively looked up at the source of the noise, but then resumed staring at each other. Ally spoke first.
"That was quite a speech, John Connor," she said, walking until she was directly in front of him. John could feel her warm breath on his face.
"Do you believe everything that you said?" she added, in a tone barely above a whisper. "Do you think we can win?"
"I do," John answered, matching her tone. He swallowed hard as he stared into her brown eyes, remembering similar near-intimacies with her, and especially with Cameron. "We must believe victory is possible first and then go about making it happen."
"You made a believer out of me," she confessed. "You saved my life and I want to thank you properly."
That said, she quicky closed the gap between them and kissed John gently on his cheek, guiding his face to her lips by softly pressing on his opposite cheek with her right hand. They lingered in that pose for a few seconds, long enough for John's heart to race as he considered if he had ever felt anything so wonderful. He was quite sure he hadn't.
"Ally—what's that short for?" John asked.
"My name is Allison Young," she added, backing away from him slightly.
The name sent a shiver up John's spine. Of course. That's what Cameron mistakenly called herself in the safehouse with Jody. But he couldn't let her see a surprised reaction.
"Allison," John managed, "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."
On the surface, it was a ridiculous thing for John to say. From her battle with the terminator, Allison was actually battered and bruised, her hair resembled an unkempt pile of straw, and her clothing was blood-stained and torn.
But John saw much past the surface. To him, Allison was a courageous young woman, full of spirit and fight, someone who loved life and asked for the same attitude from her companions. She was the very embodiment of the Resistance, someone worth fighting with and for.
Besides, he had seen her before the battle and her physical beauty was unquestioned.
"Thank you," she said, blushing a little. "Can I tell you something?"
John nodded slightly.
"I was rude to you before," Allison conceded. "And I slapped you. I'm sorry about that, but I guess it was my way of compensating."
"Compensating?" John asked, confused.
"I've only been here for a week myself, so I'm just trying to fit in," she answered. "I'm from Palmdale, but we ran out of supplies, so we came here looking for a chance, for hope. While we were searching, Skynet attacked and killed my family…."
Her voice trailed off and she started to sob. She lowered her head as a tear rolled down her cheek.
"Hey," John said, lifting her chin and wiping the tear away. "We've all lost ones we love. You're welcome to join our family now."
With that, Allison stepped forward again and hugged John fully. She started sobbing uncontrolably now, but John decided to let her have a good cry, and she cuddled her face into his chest. He wept as well, caressing her head tenderly. A little sorrow is good for the soul.
After a good five minutes, Allison gently disengaged from their embrace.
"You know, I fell on the stairs my first time too," Allison said, smiling as she wiped away her tears.
John grinned back, deciding immediately that he could never get enough of her smile.
"It will be our little secret," he said, winking at her.
The two walked hand-in-hand deeper into the complex. It suddenly occurred to John to be a comedian.
"Are you the tour guide here?" he asked with a mischieveous smirk.
Allison laughed, delightfully, recognizing her snide comment earlier.
"Yes, that's my job here! What would you like to see, sir?" she answered.
"Well, I'm new in town," John added playfully. "Show me everything."
"Everything, huh?" Allison answered.
Allison proceeded to walk John around the bowels of the former Zeira building. She did show him everything, some of which he had seen earlier. There was a kitchen, what passed as bathrooms, a community room, a storage room, the infirmary, a make-shift laundry/utility room and various living quarters, for families, individuals or groups.
Allison spoke the whole time, chattering nervously about the function of each partition as if John was only now seeing each for the first time. It mattered not, as John listened attentively, politley nodding or shaking his head to her various prompts.
Allison never once let go of John's hand. She felt reassured by his presence. That was fine with him, for he was intoxicated by her touch.
The occupants of the various chambers milled about accomplishing their day-to-day tasks, occasionaly stopping to greet Allison, to introduce themselves to John, or to congratulate or thank him. Outwardly, John appeared to be a considerate guest.
Inwardly, however, his mind was churning at a frenetic pace. He was quite certain that in all his days, he would never see another like this.
The day had started in another era, where he first rescued his mother from prison. He narrowly escaped death, only to time-travel to face death once again. He had battled machines and won, helping to rescue hundreds in the process. Had he given the Resistance a badly needed spark? Time would tell, but it wasn't a bad first day from that perspective.
Still, beyond these facts, outside his destiny, what was his purpose here? Did he really believe all the things he said about love earlier? Was that his driving force? Did he pursue Cameron across time out of loyalty or for love? Why did he feel compelled to rescue Allison? Was Cameron programmed to draw him to Allison?
They reached the end of the tour, at the utility room. Allison, noting John's contemplative state, turned to face him.
"That's everything," she said. "What are you thinking of? Some questions?"
"Just one," John said, leaning in close to her, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is there a boy in your life?"
"A boy?" Allison asked, furrowing her brow.
"Yeah, you know," John replied sheepishly, beginning to blush. "Someone special…"
"Oh," Allison answered, finally getting up to speed. She contemplated her answer for a moment and John half expected to be slapped again. Of all the trivialities in this nightmare world come to life, worrying about some half-assed, high school concern seemed so petty.
"Yes," Allison finally answered, dryly, but matching John's tone.
John's heart sank and he lowered his head. But Allison reached out with her free hand and lifted his chin so she could gaze into his eyes.
"He's standing right in front of me," she said, smiling.
This time, John closed the distance between them and kissed her fully on her lips, gently guiding her head with his free hand on her neck. Kissing him back, she roughly mimicked his movements.
While it wasn't a forced, lustful exchange, neither was it a departing smack between mother and son. It was what all first kisses should be like, tender and hopeful without being exploitive, but expressive enough that each particpant felt their spines tingle.
The embrace lasted a solid minute, but neither appeared to be in a hurry to end it. Finally, Allison disengaged and drew a long breath.
"I don't know why I kissed you, soldier," she said, teasing. "You are a mess!"
"Funny," John replied. "I was about to say that I've never seen a more beautiful wreck in my life. Why don't we clean up and have something to eat?"
"It's a date!" Allison responded enthusiastically.
The two continued hand-in-hand until they reached Allsion's quarters.
"This is me," Allison said, as John turned to face her.
"Okay," John said, trying to release her hand. "I'll see you in the kitchen in a little bit."
But Allison would not—could not—let go. She stared deep into John's eyes.
"Why did you come after me?" she asked. "How did you know you could beat them?"
"I wasn't certain, but I've battled them before," John answered. "They're not too bright. And I couldn't let you die. You would have done the same for me."
"I don't know," Allison answered honestly. "I wouldn't have known to do that."
"It's okay," John said reassuredly. "But everyone's gonna learn. I promise."
With that said, John nodded, and squeezed her hand, which prompted her to finally release her grip.
"Alright, John Connor," Allison said, grinning. "I'll see you in a bit. I promise."
John beamed right back at her and watched her turn the corner. He had definitely never seen a prettier smile.
Allison pulled the curtain across the entrance of her dwelling, stealing a last glimpse of the man who had saved her life. Curtains served as doors after J-Day, for while many of the pretenses of civilization had been obliterated, the need for modesty or privacy remained a constant.
Her quarters were the remnants of an old office of some sort. The walls were barren concrete, painted white, but faded and peeling. She had a cot and a few boxes to store some personal items. An absent roomate had similar arrangements.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, which had several cracks and dents scattered across its surface, but still served its purpose. Allison sighed as she took off her jacket, deciding John was lying through his teeth—she was a disaster.
John Connor, she thought, dragging a brush through her hair. Who is this man who appears from out of nowhere, apparently oblivious to Resitance practices and standards, but then proceeds to save not only her, but an entire camp of doomed prisoners?
Allison found some water and a clean cloth and tried erasing the damage from the day's battle, but it was mostly a lost cause. She had several scratches and bruises on her face and arms, which she hoped time would eventually mend. But she was alive. Somehow. Her mind came back to John.
How could he know a machine's idiosyncracies? He was so bold, so confident, so decisive. But was it out of necessity or design? And he's so young, barely older than her, if at all.
She scolded herself. You can't argue with the results, she decided.
Allison reached down and gingerly tested the left side of her abdomen, where the machine had punched her and left her gasping for breath. She speculated that it might be a broken rib, but risked it anyway and slowly eased off her shirt, one that would have to be permanently retired. She also decided to give the infirmary a call. But later. After seeing John.
Her thoughts again drifted back to her new boyfriend. Is that what he is? She asked herself this question while having a staredown with her own reflection, as if the image could blink before she would.
The majority of Allison's life had been spent in this hellish situation. Since her ninth birthday, very little resembled what would be considered normal.
There were no tea parties, no boy bands, no dances, no shopping binges, no ice cream socials, no crushes, no proms, no slumber parties and no steady boyfriends. Replacing these societal norms was instead a life of war, scavenging and fear, fighting every day just to stay alive. The petty concerns simply had no time or place in this world.
Half of her childhood was effectively robbed and there was nothing she could do about it. But now, she saw something she could do something about, an opportunity for a life. Suddenly, John was everything.
She found her heart racing just at the mere perception of him. Is this love? Is this what John spoke of to the crowd earlier? Is it too early to feel this way? How can one worry about timing when you don't know if this day is your last?
His feelings about her were obvious from a kiss that made her toes curl. Allison hoped that she conveyed the same passion in return.
She laughed nervously to herself and pulled a a faded blue sweatshirt from one of the boxes. Just then, the curtain was abruptly pulled back. Allison retreated at first, but then realized it was her roomate, Meriem, returning.
She was about the same size as Allison, perhaps a little heavier, and had red hair and freckles. Her green eyes and warm smile beckoned a pleasant disposition.
"Oh, I didn't know you were back," Meriem started, "Let me see what it did to you."
Allison allowed the older girl to inspect her injuries, but only briefly.
"I'm fine," Allison said, pulling away a little. "Just some bumps and bruises."
"Are you sure?" Meriem replied, "Maybe you should see the doc."
"Later," Allison said, smiling. "I'm going to breakfast with John."
"John—John Connor?" Meriem retorted. "Oh my God! How do you know him?"
"Who do you think saved me?" Allison answered, gushing with pride.
"Well no one said anything specific," Meriem said. "I've just heard lots of comments, but I don't know what's true and what's embelished."
Allison somberly relayed the account to Meriem, perking up as she advanced through the narrative. She was particularly radiant about John's involvement. Her roomate was riveted by the tale, but although she barely knew Allison, she saw right through her.
"Wow, look at you," Meriem said. "You're glowing. What's he like?"
"He's beautiful," Allison replied. "At first I thought he was a nobody, a screw-up. But you heard his speech, right?"
Meriem nodded.
"I've come to realize that he's so strong of mind and character," Allison continued.
"Everything he says is so full of conviction. And he backs those words up with action, too. He was the only one that thought we would escape."
"And his eyes are just captivating," she maintained. "I don't know anyone else who can express all these traits the way he does with his eyes."
Meriem cut to the chase. "Do you love him?"
"Yes," Allison said without hesitating, "I do."