Hi,
Well I hope you all enjoyed 'All I Want for Christmas', it was fun to write! As always thanks to reviewers lje100smith, macgamer, olischulu, Vintorez, lee443, XxDeathStarxX, darkfinder, sasha starr, morded, sumofme, kaotic2, killingspire, EvilTheLast, Mouse56, Lsquare, Nyrki and uncommoner.
Oooooh, that feels good.
John Connor laid his forehead on the shower wall while he allowed the warm shower to wash over his back. After spending most of the afternoon digging another firing trench, he had never felt so ready for a shower as he had a few moments ago when he stepped under the soothing spray. He had to admit, he'd treat the occasion like a woman looking forward to a bath. He was only short of candles to complete the picture.
He'd carefully laid out some clean clothes, stripped off and headed to the bathroom where he laid out his shower gel and shampoo precisely, grabbed a towel off the rack and switched on the shower and stood back to wait for it to heat up. Usually he'd just step in when it was still luke warm, fumble about for products afterwards and be in and out in under five minutes. This time however, he felt like indulging. His back ached, his shoulders were sore and his hands burned from the contact with the hot water, but the overall effect made it at least tolerable.
He idly wondered why he didn't put up more of a protest when Derek pushed the shovel in to his hands, and then remembered he was way too zoned out contemplating the forthcoming battle to put up much of a fight. In fairness though he had a lot on his mind. Not only did he have what would surely be a small army coming to try and kill him the next day, but he had all manner of domestic shit going on at home, shit he neither wanted nor needed at this point in time. Admittedly some of the issues were caused by him, but it wasn't his fault, he couldn't help the images that just happened to fill his nightmares.
Finally deciding to move, he picked up the nearby washcloth and set to work on getting himself clean with that and the shower gel. Glancing at the small shelf in the cubicle, he noticed a bright pink bottle. Curious, he picked it up and examined the label as best he could under the blinding spray and steam. The corner of his lips quirked up and he gave a quick breath of a chuckle. It was a bottle of Cameron's strawberry scented shampoo, a scent he was quickly learning to like. Setting the bottle back on the shelf, he continued to wash and let his mind wander.
It wandered to Cameron.
Prompted by the shampoo, his adolescent brain quite easily conjured up several pleasing images of his girlfriend in the shower applying said product. He closed his eyes and mentally traced the image, starting from her full thick hair, down past her adorable face. Lower over her breasts and drifting past her smooth, soaking midsection to her long legs, slender and soapy and oh so tempting.
She crooked an inviting finger in his direction, getting the merest ghost of a smile he loved so much, she beckoned him closer. She turned away from him and he glided up behind her. His hands found their way to her hips, where they traced every womanly curve, eventually around to her flat stomach and higher to her breasts. Just as he reached lower to continue his exploration, her hands came to rest atop his while they were part way to their goal over her stomach.
Something wasn't quite right. One of his hands felt cold in the hot shower.
Just like that, John's eyes snapped open, his fantasy cut short abruptly. Shaking his head and twisting the dial on the shower to a cooler setting, he picked up the pace with the washcloth, his face twisting in to an expression of annoyance. Once again his mind had thrown Cameron's…problem, in his face, and he'd reacted the way he didn't want to, with disgust and fear.
He loved Cameron, he really did. He wanted to be able to fully accept her despite her appearance. He knew what she was, he accepted what she was, he loved her all the same. Or at least he thought he did.
The nagging doubt that he only loved her for her appearance crept in to his mind for the first time since he'd first realised he did in fact love her. He'd so far managed to dismiss that thought out of hand, convincing himself he loved her for her, her mind, her personality, her adorable quirks, the whole package. But the fact he apparently couldn't see past the arm that more closely resembled five deadly claws than the slender hand she was usually in possession of, made him start to doubt his own faith in his belief.
Could he really have just been infatuated with her appearance? Was he really that shallow?
He felt terrible for the way he treated her that morning. He'd blatantly ignored her until she pretty much grabbed him and forced him to pay attention to her. She'd made him breakfast, she'd not done anything wrong, and yet he blew her off without so much as a goodbye. He hated himself for it too, but all he could think of when he heard Derek honk the horn of the truck was that he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, to do anything to take his mind off the situation.
He swore he'd make it up to her, and get over his seeming aversion to her condition and restore faith in himself and his love for her. Setting the cloth down, John switched off the shower and stepped out. Taking care not to drip on the floor, something Sarah had drilled in to him from a young age, he quickly towel dried himself off. When he was satisfied he was reasonably dry, he padded in to the bedroom and started getting dressed. Just as he was pulling his shirt over his head, a loud knock on the door snapped his attention to it. The next thing he knew, Amy's voice bellowed from the other side.
"Hey John, Sarah said dinner's ready."
For such a small thing, Amy had a surprisingly loud voice when she wanted to. Shaking his head with a chuckle, John resumed getting dressed. "Alright, I'll be a couple of minutes."
He listened to Amy's footsteps as she descended the stairs, he also faintly heard her loudly declaring to the rest of the kitchen that he would indeed be a couple of minutes.
Chuckling again, he finished dressing and stepped out of his bedroom and made his way downstairs. Taking a moment to compose himself at the bottom of the stairs, he sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly after a couple of seconds. Sure he was ready, he stepped in to the kitchen to find the table had been set and the rest of the family had taken up their seats. Nodding to himself, he stepped up behind Cameron and leaned down to drop a kiss on the crown of her head, making sure to take in a good lungful of that scent he liked. Grinning, he took up his seat to her left, opposite Sarah and Amy, Derek having left just after dropping him off. He'd cited the reason of getting a status report about something from Jessica, but knowing Derek as he did, John just assumed that was code for sex.
"Sorry I'm late."
Cameron eyed him curiously as he sat down. Not that she minded the kiss, in fact she found it to be distinctly pleasant, but she was slightly puzzled as to his seeming mood swings lately. In fact, it was only half an hour ago that he'd ghosted past her when he returned from setting up the ambush site with Derek without a word. She wasn't expecting him to be so openly affectionate with her, especially with Sarah sitting opposite them trying not to stare at her son.
"Are you okay John?" She asked, concern and confusion tainting her voice.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said with a sidelong glance and a reassuring smile, "Why wouldn't I be?"
Sarah observed the interchange between them. It looked like her son really was making an effort to be polite and pleasant to his girlfriend. It made a change from his distant behaviour as of late. She had to admit, she felt sorry for the girl cyborg. Cameron had done nothing wrong except for being what she was, and John was treating her like dirt because of it while she took it and said nothing. Sarah thought about saying something to both Cameron and John, but something held her back, the feeling that they both needed to work this one out for themselves.
She was no longer John's 'mommy', she was his mother, he'd made that abundantly clear. She also felt she had no right to lecture Cameron on the intricacies of human relationships, let alone human/cyborg relationships. They were a new couple too, couples have fights, it was only reasonable to expect them to work it out by themselves. Besides, she couldn't allow herself to lose focus of everything that was going on, namely Vasquez and the threat to Charley. Amy had confirmed that Charley was in fact being watched, and now thanks to her plan all they had to do was wait and hopefully kill the nut job responsible for all this. If not, inflict serious damages to whatever forces he'd managed to assemble.
Thinking of Amy, Sarah really was proud of her for coming up with the intricate plan and executing it flawlessly. Laughing at herself, Sarah realised just how ridiculous it was for her to feel proud. After all, a liquid metal machine is supposed to be able to do those things.
Looking over, she found Amy picking away at a hole on the side of the table right in front of her. Amy's tongue flopped out of her mouth as she concentrated on widening the hole. Reaching over, Sarah gently grasped Amy's wrist and pulled her hands away from the table and shook her head at her questioning look.
Crossing her arms with a huff, Amy slumped down in her seat. She didn't like being told what she could and couldn't do, even by Sarah. She had to find something else to entertain herself while the rest of the table's occupants ate, sometimes she regretted not being able to properly eat, it looked satisfying.
She examined the way John carefully tried to avoid looking at Cameron, or at least her arm, and she took pity on Cameron as she seemed to be staring lovingly at her boyfriend. Shaking her head, she reminded herself that John didn't intend to be such an ass to her friend, he just couldn't really help it. She knew he reacted to seeing her endoskeleton the way she herself reacted to firearms, with the need to be as far away from them as possible. Amy prided herself on not having any programmed orders to follow, but some things she had to respond to. John was simply doing the same thing in her eyes, following his programming. In fact, she probably had her dear Sarah to blame for that one, her mantra of the machines being the enemy, and 'no one is ever safe' had put John on a knife edge.
Despite there being food on the table, nobody had made a move to eat yet. Even Cameron, who seemed to be on a one cyborg mission to devour every tasty morsel in the kitchen lately hadn't touched her meal. Even to Amy, the mood in the room was distinctly somber. John looked contemplative, Cameron didn't look much better and Sarah looked flat out worried.
She couldn't blame them.
The next day they were all about to risk their lives to protect Charley, and hopefully stick a fork up Vasquez's ass at the same time. Whether this was some sort of pre battle ritual for them, Amy didn't know. All she did know was that she herself, while usually exuberant and enthusiastic about everything, was a little nervous about the upcoming battle. Sarah would be at risk, John would be at risk, Cameron would be mostly exposed, hell, even Derek was at risk. Amy wasn't sure what she'd be doing, and although she knew nothing could really harm her short of a Javelin missile, she really, really didn't like gun battles…they scared her.
Deciding that thought alone was sufficient to take action, she reached out with her left hand and plucked Sarah's hand off her lap. At her questioning look, she reached her right hand across the table and took hold of Cameron's damaged hand. Now she had two people looking at her like she had lost her mind. It was then that John surprised her, taking hold of Cameron's hand with his left and his mother's free hand with his right. He then smiled and nodded at Amy, somehow he knew what she was doing, what she wanted to do. The wonders of the boy would never cease to amaze her as he closed his eyes and bowed his head respectfully. Sarah quickly followed suit after a small smile at Amy.
Cameron was understandably the last to pick up on what was happening. It took a gentle shake of her hand and a subtle nod in her direction from John to get her to mimic the other's actions. She closed her eyes and bowed her head, taking great comfort in the fact that whatever this was, John wanted her to be a part of it.
Smiling, Amy allowed her eyes to close and lowered her head.
"Lord, please watch over us tomorrow. Keep us safe, and forgive our sins. May those who fall, rest in peace, and live on forever in your grace. Amen."
It was short, simple and to the point, but it seemed to have a profound effect on both John and Sarah. John released his mother and his girlfriend's hands and smiled appreciatively at Amy, even throwing in an 'Amen' of his own which Cameron copied, even with a confused face. Sarah though continued to hold on to her hand, even going so far as to gently caress her knuckles and squeeze her fingers with a smile. Releasing Cameron's hand, Amy used her now free hand to touch the cross beneath her dress and smile up at Sarah. A small smile, a shy smile, but a one she hoped conveyed the gratitude she felt to her family for indulging her like that.
Releasing her hand with a final squeeze, Sarah took a deep breath and picked up her knife and fork, a sign for the rest of the table to start eating. Amy sat back and idly fingered the hole in the table as everyone tucked in, her other hand never leaving her cross.
John woke up the next morning and immediately screwed his eyes shut again. What little sleep he'd managed to obtain hadn't really had the effectiveness he'd wanted it to have. Groaning, he rolled over and tugged the duvet over his head, intent on getting just a little bit more rest before he was forced to get up and face the day.
That was something he really, really didn't want to do. He'd much rather just curl up and stay in bed for the day, preferably with Cameron snuggled right in there next to him…but then again. Shrugging that thought off, and remembering the progress he'd made the day before, he rolled over again, trying to get comfortable despite the cool air seeping in to his generally toasty bed.
He started drawing up his plan of action for the day. Get up…in a while, bathroom, shower, clothes, breakfast, clean teeth. Once the standard stuff was taken care of, he then had to double check the equipment he'd be using for the day. He had to do one final rundown of the plan with Derek, in fact with his entire family. He had to kiss his girlfriend, tell her he loved her and make sure she'd take care of herself…that part he'd have no trouble with, in fact he was looking forward to it. He had to see to it that his mother was okay and up to the task. He had to try and ensure that Amy would be alright out there, that she wouldn't freak at the sight of a gun. He had to ensure the ambush site was properly set up. He had to take up the correct position beside Derek on the ridge.
Then he had to shoot and kill his fellow human beings.
That thought alone was enough to make him give up on the idea of returning to a peaceful slumber as he rolled flat on to his back and opened his eyes. Draping one arm across his forehead, he stared up at the ceiling, as if it wuld provide him with some comfort. He had no such luck however as a magic 'make Skynet go bye bye' button didn't emerge from the cheap plasterboard and what he was fairly certain was once white paint.
Chuckling to himself at the absurdity of his situation, he looked over and checked the clock by his bed. It read seven fifty four, very, very late by his standards. In fact, he was surprised Derek hadn't swung by to drag him out by his ankle, or dump ice cold water on him. Evidently Derek had too much on his plate that day to even attempt to continue his training, something John was particularly thankful for. He was in no mood to be ran through some woods, or to have Derek yelling in his ear, r to dug yet another fucking trench. Today he needed to focus, he needed to get this right.
Just as he started to contemplate rising from the comfort of his bed, a soft knock at his door put paid to those thoughts.
"Come in," he said with a less than necessary groan, followed by a very necessary clearing of his throat.
He craned his neck up from the pillow in time to see Cameron quietly slip in to his room and carefully close the door behind her. She looked good, her long legs were accented nicely by a pair of blue cotton pyjama shorts with 'Sexy' written across the ass in big white lettering. Evidently Cameron had decided to try something different during her last shopping trip. While it certainly was an odd choice given her usual taste, John couldn't help but admit he found them irresistibly cute.
His eyes trailed further up her body and over the matching top, eventually landing on her face as she turned around to face him. Rather than lingering there, his eyes found themselves drawn to something else entirely, something she held in her hand.
"Um, Cameron?" He asked, his mouth not really catching up with his brain just yet.
"Yes John?" She asked, taking a couple of steps in to the room.
"Is…is that a pop tart?" His head tilted to the side in an odd imitation of his girlfriend as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look.
Cameron looked down at the object in her hand as if she hadn't really given it any thought until he'd pointed it out. "Yes, it's a chocolate chip flavoured pop tart, why do you ask?"
"Um, no reason," he asked with a shake of his head. "I just haven't had one of those in years, not since I was a kid." He watched as she took a small nibble out of the corner, "Where'd you get it from?"
Chewing her small morsel, Cameron took another couple of steps until she was standing right beside his bed. "Sarah made it for me. Would you like one? We have more in the kitchen."
"Um, no, I'm good." He patted the bed beside him and watched her settle down on the spot with her legs tucked beneath her. "Mom made it for you?"
"Yes," Cameron took another nibble, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips now that she'd reached the chocolate filling rather than just the pastry. "She thought I might enjoy one, so she made it for me."
John couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image he conjured of his mother handing a pop tart off to his cyborg girlfriend. His picture had Sarah ruffling the top of Cameron's head, however he didn't think she'd have gone that far. "What's with the napkin?"
Cameron looked down, once again as if noticing it for the first time, "Sarah didn't want me to make a mess," she said as she took another bite.
Now that was quite enough for John as he started to chuckle, the story Cameron had just told him was so domestic he could hardly believe his ears. Not only had his mother, Sarah freaking Connor made breakfast for his girlfriend, but she'd handed her a napkin to stop her from getting crumbs all over her house. If he hadn't heard it from someone as reliable as Cameron then he'd never have believed it. Since when did they have pop tarts in the house anyway?
Cameron didn't say anything, she merely settled for looking at him inquisitively, obviously not finding the humour in the situation as she continued to munch on her breakfast.
When John had settled down a little, he stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. "Alright, now you're just teasing me. Go on, gimme a little bite of that."
Cameron frowned, "But you just said you didn't want one."
"Well, I don't…I just want a little nibble of yours," he said with a smile.
"Really?" Despite her initial trepidation at sharing her sugary treat, Cameron couldn't help but feel something pleasant sure through her systems. Not only was he treating her like he usually did, but she noted he hadn't so much as glanced at her arm the entire time she'd been in the room…and she had been paying attention the whole time.
Smiling, she decided to test just how much progress he'd made. Also, he hadn't touched her in a while, and she missed the contact, despite the fact she'd only been experiencing it for a relatively short time. Cameron gracefully unfolded her legs from beneath her and sat up, taking care not to let any crumbs drop, after all, she didn't want to piss Sarah off. As carefully as she could, she swung one leg over the mound of the quilt he created with his legs, effectively straddling him. She sank her weight back on to his legs, not her entire weight, and leaned forward, her hair framing her face as it slipped off her shoulders.
John couldn't help but grin as he took the hint as to what she had in mind and decided to indulge her. He laced his hands together behind his head and let his eyes wander over the delightful view she was granting him leaning forward like that. As expected, she brought the pop tart closer to his mouth and he craned his neck just a little to take a bite out of it, a wide grin adorning his lips as he chewed. To his delight, Cameron returned his smile wholeheartedly, a smile that he'd always found beautiful, ever since the first day back in that schoolroom in New Mexico.
As he chewed, he let his head drop back on to the pillow while still grinning like an idiot. He slowly drew his palms higher up her bare thighs as she settled back on her haunches, her weight on his legs bringing an odd sense of comfort. As he marvelled at the impossibly smooth skin under his blistered and battered hands, he watched her take another bite out of her treat and watched him watch her.
The grin faded from his face as his mind drifted to the list he made when he woke up.
"Um, Cameron..." he faltered, trying to sum up the correct words to express how he was feeling without it coming off as sappy.
"Yes John?" She asked, stopping her chewing for a moment.
"Will you promise me something?" He asked, looking up to meet her eyes.
"Of course."
"Promise me you'll take care of yourself out there today. We don't know what sort of ammo these guys are packing, and there isn't much cover at your position."
He paused and sucked in a deep, shaky breath before he continued, his hands still slowly drawing up and down her thighs. "These guys know what you are, they might come prepared for you...I don't want to see you hurt...again."
With that he slowly, holding his breath, raised his arm and took hold of her damaged hand in his own. Cameron watched him, fascinated, as he took her hand in his. She could see he was holding his breath, she could feel his heart hammering in his chest and she could almost sense his trepidation. But he persevered, and she responded in kind, gently wrapping her fingers around his and giving them the lightest of squeezes.
John looked up and smiled, a forced smile, but a smile all the same. In a gesture he'd performed on her many times, Cameron brought his hand up to her lips and lightly kissed his knuckles, bringing a wider smile to his face as he released his held breath. "I promise. I'll be careful."
John nodded, relieved she'd agreed without so much as an argument. His gaze drifted away from his hand and met her eyes where they lingered for a few long seconds. He could've sworn there was a warmth there he'd never quite seen before, not to this extent anyway.
"Good…gimme a kiss."
Cameron's head cocked to the side. It was unusual for her to be asked for a kiss. John's usual style was 'kiss first, ask questions later', so for him to be asking, she knew something wasn't quite all right in John world. She obliged him however as she leaned forward and tentatively pressed her lips to his. Her hair framed both of their faces as the kiss deepened, slowly. John kissed back, his lips dry and coarse compared to her own moist and silken skin. The kiss started out slow, soft, and tentative, neither participant wanting to rush anything, both sensing that urgency was not required, not this time.
Cameron felt John's tongue brush against her lips ever so lightly, asking for access. The corner of her lips tugged upwards slightly as she obliged his request. Despite the fact John didn't like it when she did this, just why he didn't she wasn't sure, she opened her eyes to watch him while they kissed. She could only see his closed eyelids, but it was enough to bring a warm feeling to her CPU, a feeling of contentment. She missed this amount of contact with her John, it was nice to be close to him again.
Her hands came to rest on his chest, just about the same time she felt his hands settle on her slender waist. She could feel his heart beating through her right hand, her systems flashing up all kinds of facts and figures about her lover's physical state. She cancelled all the readouts, but not before taking note of one particularly pleasing aspect. His heart had settled down to a slow, steady rhythmic thump, as opposed to the frantic tempo it was beating at earlier. She took this as a good sign, he wasn't consumed by fear or anxiousness any more. He'd relaxed to the point where he was just her John, apparently enjoying her company, not to mention her gentle ministrations.
But the thought at the back of her mind kept nagging at her. She hadn't come in to his room to make out with him, she'd come in with a reason, and she was at risk of being derailed completely if this went on much longer. That problem became much more apparent when John's hands slid under the hem of her shirt and the sheets press higher up in to her inner thigh.
Placing her hands on top of his to halt their progress, Cameron pulled back from the kiss. John looked up at her, highly confused. As far as he knew things were going great, he was making out with his girlfriend, pretty successfully, and he'd even managed to take hold of her hand without having a panic attack, and that was something profound for him. So why she was stopping he had no clue.
"Cameron?"
"I didn't come here for that."
Obviously confused, John tilted his head and eyed the hand under her shirt pointedly, "Well, you could've fooled me Cameron."
Fighting off the fleeting urge to frown at his less than friendly retort, Cameron gently pulled his hands from her body. "I came here to make sure you're prepared for today."
"Ugh," John commented less than intelligently with a roll of his eyes. "You sound just like Derek." He locked eyes with her for a moment before shaking his head and sliding out from underneath her.
Cameron sat back on the bed and watched him get up and start milling around the bedroom. "But it's important," She continued watching as he merely glanced at her and started getting dressed.
"If you're not ready then we should know, we can handle it without you if you're not up to it." She offered, thoughtfully in her mind.
John meanwhile let out a low growl as he trudged in to the bathroom. "I'll be alright, you just look after yourself," he snapped.
Cameron frowned as he disappeared in to the bathroom, leaving her alone on his bed. She quickly stood and followed after him with a purpose.
"John, that's not fair," she stated as she rounded the door frame and found him hunched over the sink, watching it fill.
He looked up, confused at what she was talking about, "What's not fair? That you come in here and start harping on at me like you're my mother?"
"No," she answered with a scowl not usually used by her, especially when directed at John, but he was pushing it with his confrontational attitude when she was only trying to help him. "It's not fair that you're being protective of me, and yet you get upset with me when I do the same."
John looked back down at the sink, suddenly all of the bluster taken out of his self righteous argument. Before he had a chance to counter, or even accept her argument, she'd spoken again, but not before stepping closer, just to make sure she had his full attention.
"I'm protective of you because…human's are fragile. You're not bulletproof, I am, I'm the one who's supposed to be protective of you, regardless of the way I feel about you." She glanced down at her exposed arm and looked up to find him matching her gaze.
John suppressed a shudder as his eyes scanned over the five main pistons that made up the bones attached to her fingers. Those metal claws could easily crush his windpipe as they had in so many of his nightmares, and yet they belonged to one of the most delicate, at least in his mind, creatures in existence. It made no sense whenever he thought about it logically, but he was protective of her, he was the only one who had and would probably ever see her weak side, her emotional side, her innocent side…the side he loved.
She was an enigma, so strong, so powerful, and yet all he wanted to do was wrap her in cotton wool and protect her from the world. He hated it when she gave no thought to her own self preservation, especially when she was damaged to aid him in some way. It made him feel guilty and hate himself for allowing her to come to harm, despite the fact in the majority of cases there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
And yet, he still insisted on treating her like crap just because she was trying to protect him, because she didn't want him to come to harm, because she cared about him. Feeling like the biggest asshole in the universe, he set down the washcloth he'd picked up earlier and stood to his full height. He slowly took a step closer and reached out to cup her cheeks, pleased beyond measure when she didn't pull away. Her glare however remained intact.
Well, gotta try something to get rid of that.
He leaned closer and tenderly kissed her lips before pulling back, once again pleased that she'd chosen to kiss him back, and not make it seem like he was kissing a pissed off statue.
"I'm sorry. I should've realised you were just trying to look out for me," he sighed before he continued, making sure he held her eyes with his own. "I was wrong to not think of your feelings before I got all up my own ass thinking you were insulting me."
Cameron paused for a long few seconds, mostly just to make him sweat, before she nodded in his hands, taking a great sense of amusement in his relieved expression. "Okay, but you still haven't answered my question. Are you prepared for today, are you ready?"
Leaning in to drop another kiss on her lips, a slower, lingering kiss this time, John pulled back with a smile. "Yeah, I'm ready. I'll keep my head down, pick my targets, duck when I need to…and I won't do anything stupid."
"Good," Cameron replied with a nod, "I'd hate for something bad to happen because you did something stupid."
'Your destination is two hundred yards on the left.'
Charley Dixon reached out and flicked his satnav off. He had a rough idea where he was…but he had no clue just why in the hell he was there. Over the past few months since his wife had passed away and Sarah had stashed him in the lighthouse, he'd been keeping off the radar. Only going out when he needed to, avoiding contact with people wherever possible. It was an admittedly dull life, but he'd rather have that over the gruesome alternatives he knew could be awaiting for him should he slip up. The girl Terminator's little demonstration of carving up another machine reminder enough of that fact.
But then, totally out of the blue, he'd been receiving attention from several people asking about John and Sarah, unpleasant people in his opinion. He thought it was odd that Sarah had hung up on him when he'd tried to make contact, in fact, he found it odd that he even had her new number, it'd seemingly appeared from nowhere on to his cell's phonebook one day. But when he'd called her, she said he had the wrong number. Charley could've kicked himself for slipping up like that. Of course she 'didn't know who he was', Sarah was too smart to admit to being who she was.
If he'd really thought it through, he'd have realised at the time that all he was doing was endangering John. He should've just grinned and bared it in order to protect John, not because he was the 'saviour of all mankind', but because he loved the boy like his own son, and he didn't want anything to happen to him.
Then the next day he'd received a visit from the sweetest little girl. He didn't recognise her, but she'd called him by the fake name Sarah had given him so that he'd know when she was trying to communicate, 'Mr. Francies'. After getting over his surprise at hearing the name, and calming his dog down from its encounter with the girl, he'd immediately ripped open the box of cookies only to find a note, written in perfectly formed lettering. Not Sarah or John's writing, and too neat to be Derek's. He guessed the machine had written it, no writing could be that perfect. It was slipped under the plastic cookie tray, of which he noted had more than a few cookies were missing, apparently the girl had a taste for chocolate.
That was another thing that confused him. The last he knew the machine had gone bad, tried to kill John. In his book, that meant it wouldn't be hanging around them much longer, evidently that wasn't the case, and where did this little girl come from too? Charley sincerely hoped Sarah hadn't just bribed some poor girl scout to deliver the note to him, even Sarah couldn't be that callous…could she? But that had to be it, why else would they have an eight year old girl working with them? His dog Indiana hadn't kicked up a fuss around her, meaning she couldn't have been a machine, after all, Sarah had assured him that dogs could detect machines. Anyway, Terminators do not look like sweet little eight year old girls.
The note had simply read:
'Come to the large house just off the coast road a mile North of your location at 6pm tomorrow. Park your vehicle in the clearing and approach on foot, Sarah will be waiting for you.'
It was blunt, it was to the point, and yet he couldn't help but feel like he was being herded like an animal. He didn't like not knowing where he was going, or what he was getting himself in to. But he'd done as instructed so far. He'd left his house with enough time to account for getting lost and he'd arrived a few minutes early. Pulling off the road and applying the brakes to stop from slipping on the rough terrain, he drove down the narrow naturally formed driveway until he reached the clearing he'd been told he would find.
He pulled his truck to a stop midway in to the clearing at the bottom of a fairly steep hill, just of the main drive. Switching the engine off, he reached over in to his passenger seat and picked up the note again. Double checking it, he was certain this was the right place, and yet he saw no signs of Sarah…or of any activity at all. If anybody was here, they were being very careful to hide that fact.
He sucked in a deep breath. He didn't really want to be seeing Sarah, but needs must, and this was for John after all. He'd rather have lived his life in ignorance until the day the supposed bombs would fall, but even that seemed far too pleasant an option whenever Sarah Connor was involved. Pushing open his door, he stepped out of his truck and closed it behind him.
He headed off in the direction he knew the house was in, he couldn't see it due to the thick forest of tall trees blocking his view, but the winding path was his guide. He could've swore an eerie quiet descended over him and the surrounding forest as soon as he stepped out of his car. He couldn't hear any birds tweeting, nor the sound of the wind rustling the leaves. The only sound he could hear were leaves crunching with every agonising footstep.
Whipping his head around faster than it was advisable to do so, he double checked behind him, having the sense that somebody was there with him. It was too quiet, there were too many places to stay out of sight.
Shrugging it off, he picked up his pace and chided himself for behaving like a scared little boy just because the surrounding woods were a bit creepy.
He emerged from the dirt path and the sound of crunching leaves under his feet changed subtly to the sound of gravel crunching. The driveway and parking in front of him in stark contrast to the naturally formed path he'd just traversed. Once again double checking behind him, and once again seeing nothing, he started his climb up the hill. He felt a little better now that he was out in the open and not surrounded by the giant California Redwoods looming over him. In fact, he was feeling so much better the sound of birds and the wind had returned.
Come on Charley, keep it together.
When he'd made it about two thirds of the way, about two hundred yards to the house the area went silent again…
Sarah stuck her head out over her cover just as she clicked the button on the claymore detonator. She wished she hadn't. She watched as Charley dropped to the ground, his hands covering his head as the anti personnel mines Derek had laid all exploded almost simultaneously. Sarah was dug in about three hundred yards away from them, but even she wished they weren't so damned loud!
She found herself ducking as the clearing was filled with deafening noise and for a moment, blinding light as the tree line went up in flames. She looked down and double checked that Charley was okay. He was moving, that was good enough.
She felt guilty about using him like this, but it was necessary, it was for John. Everything was for John, it had to be, nothing else mattered to Sarah, not even Charley who she cared deeply for.
"Um, Sarah…bad dudes coming through the trees!"
Shaking her head, Sarah glanced down momentarily at Amy before opening up with her mounted M240 machine gun on the tree line, mowing down the guys fortunate enough to have escaped the initial blast from the claymores. She paused firing for a moment, just long enough to make sure that Amy was taking cover beside her. Then she shook her head and resumed firing, cursing herself for allowing herself to think of Amy as the little girl she looked like, and not the bulletproof machine she was.
Derek meanwhile had no qualms about anything other than carrying out his mission - kill as many of the fuckers as he can. Resting the underside of his barrel against the ground, he strafed back and forth across his firing line, trying to take out as many of the guys who'd cleared the woods as he could. The trick he was particularly good at was trying to keep the ones he missed diving for cover instead of charging up the hill and shooting back.
"John? What are you waiting for? Open up!"
John still hadn't bothered to even sit up and turn around to face the battlefield. The way he was clutching his rifle to his chest reminded Derek of the day he just barely managed to avoid being on the receiving end of a nervous bullet from his nephew. As Derek feared, as soon as John had heard the first explosion, he'd frozen…again.
John did eventually move, but only after he heard the distinctive and very loud crack of Derek's Barrett M82 sniper rifle. In Cameron's hands the weapon was downright lethal, and if was that fact that had convinced Derek to allow her to use it at all. He was protective of his guns almost to the extent he was of his truck. John craned his neck to look in the direction of the house as another loud crack rang out.
Finally finding the courage to sit up, John surveyed the battlefield. Bodies were already littering the ground near the tree line, which in itself was smouldering as small fires ignited by the explosion of the claymores slowly climbed their way up the surrounding trees, bathing the area in a hellish glow.
Cameron meanwhile paid no mind to the almost picturesque backing to the carnage beyond the fact that it messed up her thermal imaging. It didn't slow her progress however as she used more traditional methods of visually scanning for her targets. Once she found them, she dispatched them with ruthless efficiency. Any man stupid enough to try and get up off his stomach to make a break for either cover or to attempt to charge the house was quickly dropped back down to the ground, a lot quicker than he got up.
She also made sure she repositioned every few shots so the enemy couldn't get a read on her position. She didn't have to, or want to, it was far more efficient to remain static and take whatever damage came her way, but she was mindful of her promise to John, and the last thing she needed was to be hypocritical in the wake of her little speech in the bathroom.
Charley meanwhile had no clue what was going on short of explosions and guns firing all around him. The explosion had almost knocked him off his feet, the sheer noise louder than pretty much everything his ears had ever had the misfortune of being exposed to. He'd still ended up hitting the dirt anyway. He wasn't stupid, he didn't have to be told that when bullets start flying that it's generally a good idea to keep your head down. It didn't matter who's side you were on, staying out of it was the only option.
But that was then, this was now, and he'd come to the conclusion that his best chance of survival was to try and make for the house. He knew that Sarah, and if not her, then somebody on his side would be in there, he would be safe. Summing up courage he never knew he had, he pushed himself up on to his hands and knees and started to crawl towards the house. He'd made it barely five yards when a couple of rounds dug in to the dirt less than a yard to the left of his head.
He exercised the better part of valour and hunkered down again…maybe staying in his current position was the best idea after all. Looking up, he caught sight of the occasional solitary bark of a weapon from the windows, to his left he saw sustained fire from two weapons, and to his right he saw more from another.
In the machine gun nest to his right, Sarah was so focused on the battle that she barely noticed that Amy had slipped away, the noise of the gun blaring covering her departure.
Amy had been surveying the surroundings when something caught her eye. With a tilt of her head in a manner reminiscent of Cameron and a glance over her shoulder to make sure Sarah was thoroughly distracted, she set off quietly making her way towards the nearby tree line.
Miguel, José and Jesus were lucky, they'd managed to avoid the initial blast of the claymores and the machine gun fire from the crazy lady in the nest on top of the hill they were currently making their way up. All they had to do was clear the trees and drop her, she wouldn't even see them coming. The rustling of dead leaves underneath their feet and the snapping branches by their bodies were easily masked by the noise of the almost constant stream of 7.62 NATO rounds spewing from the mounted heavy weapon.
Miguel stopped for a moment, his hand covering his left ear while Mr. Quinn's voice interrupted his stealthy approach. "I said flank that fucking position already! We're getting torn apart down here!"
"On it boss." Grumbling under his breath about the almost slave driving ways of the Aussie lunatic currently barking orders at him, Miguel swung his rifle up in to position. Motioning for José and Jesus to close the gap behind him, he stepped around a large redwood, ready to take out the bitch currently messing up this job and his fat paycheque. Both he and his men were stopped in their tracks however when they came face to face with the impossible sight of a little girl just standing there behind the tree only a few feet in front of him.
"What the fuck?"
"Hi!" Amy bounced on the balls of her feet, her hands latched behind her back and a gentle sway to her body causing her pigtails to swish around behind her. Her beaming smile in stark contrast to the surroundings, the battle, hell to everything lately.
The three mercenaries had been briefed by Mr. Quinn about what to expect during the supposedly easy job. They'd been told to expect a crazy woman, an equally crazy man, a boy and a pretty girl. They'd been told under no circumstances to underestimate any of them, and all the men in the room had taken the advice and would act upon it. But when they'd been informed about the probable appearance of a little blonde girl and to shoot on sight, more than a few of them had scoffed and discarded the advice as ludicrous.
They were about to wish they'd paid more attention. Amy waited for the barrels of all their rifles to lower away from her just a fraction, before taking less than a split second to allow her body to shimmer and reform in to it's metallic state. Before the men even had a chance to react, three spears had shot out of her mass and pierced the men through their hearts.
It was quick, it was precise, just as Amy had wanted it. Withdrawing the spears and retaking her usual shape, Amy watched as the three men slumped to the ground, dead. Satisfied that none of them had suffered needlessly, Amy double checked the surrounding area for more movement. Satisfied there was none, she started making her way back up to Sarah's position.
"John!" Derek snapped, a little harshly, as he ducked down into the cover of their trench just long enough to try and clear the jam in his M-4. The leaves and dirt littering the ground in every direction weren't helping his chosen weapon's functionality in the slightest, "We've got at least four moving around to flank from the west! Get their fucking heads down before they overrun us!"
For his part, John stared at his uncle for a long moment, eyes unmoving and hands shaking. That was, until Derek reached over and gave him a sharp slap right across the forehead, bouncing his skull off the back of the trench in the process. Unbelievably, the anger the action elicited seemed to jog his brain, allowing him to focus on something besides the rounds streaming past just a few inches above his head.
Letting out a growl, John slipped up from behind the cover of the trench, latching on to the first moving object he caught sight of and letting rip on full auto. Three of the approaching men dove immediately back into the cover of the surrounding redwoods, the last losing his footing on a patch of mud and leaves. Taking a deep breath to steady his aim, John emptied the rest of his mag chasing the son of a bitch back to the tree line.
Having finally cleared his breach and reloaded, Derek sprung into action just inches off John's right shoulder, a quick burst dropping two men his nephew hadn't even noticed approaching from the southwest, sending their bodies rolling back down the hill towards the men he'd driven back into cover. Luckily for them, but not as much for their attackers, the primed grenade one had been carrying taking out at least one of the men, and from the sound of the screams, wounding the others.
Scanning the battlefield with practiced efficiency, Derek paused only long enough to activate his radio, "Cameron, how many we dealing with?"
"Sixteen." There was a short pause, the radio carrying a loud echo as her sniper rifle barked out another round, and Derek could practically see the smile on her face when she amended her tally, "Fifteen."
In the process of relocating to a new firing position, Cameron finally allowed herself to ask the question she'd wanted to for the last ten minutes, "Is John okay?"
"He hasn't hit anything yet," Grumbling to himself, Derek had to shake his head while trying to 'encourage' the wounded men still trying to flank them to go back down the damn hill, "But other than that, yeah, he's just fine!"
Cameron caught herself breathing a very human sigh of relief before stepping out from behind the cover of the wall and scanning for fresh targets. A small squad seemed to be advancing from the still-flaming tree line, but her line of sight was blocked out momentarily as Charley rose to his feet, apparently deciding to make a run for it.
Just as Cameron was about to shift her position, the man went down, hard, clutching at his arm and screaming obscenities the cyborg had never heard from the normally pleasant former medic.
"Charley has been hit." Rattling off the information like she was commenting on the weather, Cameron used the opportunity presented by him clearing her line of sight to fire off another round, "Fourteen."
"What?" For the first time since the battle had begun, John's brain seemed to be functioning clearly, even if his words were a bit frantic, "Charley got hit? Where? Is he alive?"
Beside him, Derek had to restrain himself from smacking John upside the head again. After all, it might dislodge the kid's helmet, "Does it fucking matter? Just keep shooting!"
Scowling up at his uncle, John ignored him while focusing on the problem at hand, "Cameron... is he alright?"
"He's moving." Unknowingly, his girlfriend was mimizing his scowl some two hundred yards away, not understanding why John would be focusing on this of all things in the middle of a battle, "But not much."
Just as he was about to respond, John was interrupted when Sarah's voice cut in over the radio, barely audible over the sound of the sustained machine gun fire she was still spraying down the hillside, "John! Stay focused, you can't afford to lose concentration!"
"Fuck that!" John could barely believe what he was hearing. It seemed like he was the only person in their 'family' who gave a damn about the fact they'd put an innocent man directly in the crosshairs of trained killers. "We were supposed to be helping Charley, not getting him killed! Cameron, you're closest, can you get to him? Pull him behind some cover?"
When Cameron finally got around to responding, she actually sounded quite offended by her boyfriend's apparent willingness to put Charley's wellbeing over her own, "Not without compromising this position... or getting hit repeatedly."
Despite the fact he had been too frightened to even fight back just a minute ago, John found himself standing tall in the trench, looking down the hill towards his almost step-father, who was now trying to crawl towards the house while hugging the ground.
Sucking in a quick breath, John could only shake his head, the decision made before he even stopped to consider it, "Derek... cover me!"
Before the older man could stop him, or even offer a word in edgewise, John had shoved himself up and out of the firing trench. It was an odd sensation, for the first time actually feeling rounds whiz past him in practically every direction, but all John could think of was Charley Dixon sprawled out on the dirt and leaves, bleeding to death.
Derek could do little beyond shouting obscenities at him while doing the best he could to cover him. It was a hell of a time for the kid to finally grow a pair - just when he needed those self-preservation instincts the most.
About that time, Cameron spotted movement near the centre of the clearing. Rather oddly, the man in the centre of the approaching formation didn't have a rifle, merely a .45 caliber pistol in his right hand, a radio in his left as he surveyed the clearing like an officer trying to coordinate the battle.
Quickly deducing he must have been the one directing the attacking troops, most-likely a high ranking member of Vasquez's organisation, Cameron shifted her sights over to him without the slightest hesitation. Her HUD calculating every aspect of the shot in a fraction of a second, she was just about to squeeze the trigger when Derek began screaming at John over the open radio channel, informing the rest of them he had decided to break cover and was now sprinting down the hill toward Charley.
Glancing over in the direction of their firing position, sure enough, she spotted her boyfriend emerging from the tree line behind the house, not even bothering to lay down suppressive fire while on a dead sprint for his target.
Unfortunately, this meant Cameron had a split-second decision to make, the man in her sights fixing his gaze on John, an arm raising to point directly at him while yelling into his radio. Of course John was the primary target, the rest of them meant little to the future, to the machine deity that Vasquez and his men seemed determined to protect at all costs.
In the end, there was no choice, Cameron shifting the barrel of her sniper rifle a few inches to the right, dropping the first of the men training his sights in John's direction.
Clearing the tree line on a full sprint, John had only seconds to assess the situation degenerating around him. The trees on the opposite side of the clearing were still ablaze, bathing the entire area in a hellish glow, but luckily enough it also provided him more than enough light to see what was going on.
A small squad was trying to advance, dropping one at a time while Cameron apparently picked them off with practiced efficiency, the rest unloading in his direction with obvious intent. Still, he wasn't about to let the rounds slapping into the earth around his boots to slow him down.
Catching sight of Charley, sprawled out a mere sixty yard short of the house, John doubled down, ignoring the burning in his lungs and legs as he shifted direction for the fallen man.
"You have got to be... dammit!" Much like her son, Sarah wasn't one for hesitation, especially when John was in danger. Cameron was efficient, but she was saddled with a single-shot sniper rifle. On the other hand, Sarah's M240 could lay down some serious hurt.
Slapping the bi-pod up underneath the barrel, the elder Connor vaulted over the log she'd been using for cover, immediately shouldering her weapon and laying down a thick blanket of fire at the men approaching her son while marching steadily closer, heedless to the prime target she was presenting in the process.
If Amy had been human, she'd have choked on her tongue at the sight of the idiot she was supposed to be protecting pulling a stunt like she was. Not only was she out there with no cover, but she was walking slowly across the battlefield.
Then to top it all off, she, or rather the weapon in her hands was making more noise than bonfire night. She may as well have plastered a neon lit sign above her head that read 'shoot me'.
After a long few seconds of wide eyed gaping at the human's stupidity, Amy steeled herself. She didn't want to go out there, but she was pretty sure she had to, otherwise she didn't want to have to face up to the guilt of letting Sarah throw her life away.
Cursing her little legs, she quickly shifted forms in to her eel like state and slithered off down the hill towards Sarah, intent on at least trying to intercept as many bullets as she could, despite fact that the thought of being shot at terrified her beyond belief.
Though he hadn't fired a single round on his entire sprint across the battlefield, even John wasn't stupid enough to turn his back on armed men just a stone's throw down the hill from him.
He wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of taking life, but found it was a little easier to live with when the people in question had not only shot Charley, but were clearly targeting him.
Dropping into a baseball slide fifteen yards short of Charley, John fired off a quick succession of bursts from his M-16 while sliding quickly down the hill, surprisingly enough dropping the two men closest to him in the process.
In one fluid move he shifted to rifle to his right hand, rolling onto his stomach and shoving himself back to his feet with the left, snagging Charley under the armpit and trying to drag him back up the hill, "You alright? Charley?"
Sensing their opportunity the complete the mission, and get the hell out of there and get paid, the few remaining survivors still lingering in the trees below the clearing rushed forward following an order barked over the radio. Not one of them noticed however as the man responsible for issuing the order made a beeline back towards the vehicles they'd arrived in, intent on saving his ass to fight another day, not to mention avoid the inevitable visit from the authorities.
The man farthest up the hill, and therefore closest to John was just setting himself to unload in the direction of the boy they'd been told was their main target when the left side of his head erupted in a red-ish grey cloud. If he were still alive, he'd have heard Derek let out a pretty passable war cry as he too came charging down the hill, following the same path as John had moments ago. He was doing his level best to drive the other mercenaries back with sustained weapons fire.
"Cameron, can you get to John?"
Little did Derek know, but Cameron had abandoned her position long before he even asked, using the respite he'd created to the fullest effect and was now moving down the hill towards John's position. The rifle that was almost as tall as her shouldered as she scanned the battlefield for targets.
Her equivalent of a red mist descended upon her as she took aim and squeezed the trigger. She watched with a distinct, and if she'd been thinking clearly, a disturbing sense of satisfaction as another man's head was reduced to little more than shredded, flying meat in her sights.
Having dropped to a knee just long enough to slap a fresh ammo box from the pack on her back into the M240, Sarah was back on her feet a second later, re-shouldering the weapon and storming in from the advancing soldiers' flank, dropping no less than five with a sustained fire that left the barrel of her machine gun glowing bright in the darkness. "Cameron! Get him the hell out of here!"
She had little to worry about though, the last three survivors were already sprinting away from the battle as quickly as their legs could carry them. Now that their leadership wasn't standing behind them with a very real gun to the back of their heads, the idea of a last suicidal charge up the hill seemed a little less intelligent.
John wasn't aware of any of this though, still dragging Charley towards the house and it's perceived cover, just hoping the man was still alive when they got there.
Cameron intercepted him mid way, wordlessly shoving him unceremoniously down to one knee as she took up a position between him and the tree line, trying to use her body to shield him from any possible harm. She knew the remnants of the force were retreating, but she she couldn't take any chances at all, not with her John.
"What the hell?" Staying on a knee, John shouldered his M-16, using the opportunity to pop a fresh magazine into the receiver and scanning the burning trees for targets, "Get Charley to the bikes!"
Derek skidded to a halt just beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder to make sure his nephew stayed down, for once he was in total agreement with Cameron. "We clear?" He asked, still scanning the tree line with his rifle raised.
"Yes," Came Cameron's succinct reply as she too continued confirming her answer with her rifle aimed at the tree line.
"What the hell is wrong with you people?" Shoving Derek's hand off his shoulder with a growl, John tossed the strap of his M-16 over his right shoulder and resumed trying to drag Charley, this time with both hands, "He's bleeding out!"
"John, open your fucking eyes!" Derek managed to resist the urge to slap him again, "It's a graze, a flesh wound. He must've hit his head when he went down or something."
Letting go and pulling himself up to his full height, John was just about to start screaming back about them leaving Charley in the middle of a battlefield, when Sarah stormed into the fray looking more pissed off than he could remember seeing her in a very long time.
"What were you thinking, John? You could have been killed! They were gunning for YOU!" Spinning just as quickly towards Derek, Sarah's anger actually seemed to get the better of her, shoving the man back a few feet, "And you! You were supposed to watch him!"
Derek, not intimidated in the slightest turned to face Sarah, "Hey, the kid sprinted off down the fucking hill, what did you want me to do? Chase after him or cover him?" He shook his head, there was no way in hell he was catching the blame for this.
Cameron meanwhile spoke without ever removing her eyes from the tree line, "We should go, the authorities will be here soon."
"We're not finished with this." Sarah sighed harshly, knowing Cameron is right, and right now she's the only person she isn't angry with, "You did good Cameron."
Cameron's eyes momentarily moved away from the rifle scope in surprise. The last thing she'd been expecting was for Sarah to agree with her, much less compliment her.
However just as quickly as her eyes left the scope, they returned, she wasn't about to blow it all now by allowing her focus to slip.
"He's waking up."
Amy's voice broke the entire family out of their stupor as four heads turned to find her crouching over a dazed and confused looking Charley.
Sarah marched over, looking down at Charley with a slight tilt of her head, both hands still cradling her machine gun, "Can you walk?"
Charley for his part was barely managing to keep from losing his stomach, much less able to form a coherent thought or answer. "Sarah? Wh, what's going on?"
"We don't have time for this." Even Sarah wasn't sure if her attitude was because of the fact the cops would be here any minute, or because she simply couldn't face Charley right now, knowing what they'd just done to him, "Derek, get him to the bikes. Cameron, escort John. No one relaxes until we're back at home."
Despite the relative lack of danger at that point, everyone was still in battle mode. Derek snapped to and grabbed Charley's upper arm and began to haul him up off the ground and back towards the house. Parked out back were their getaway vehicles of choice, ATV's, a particularly brilliant suggestion of Cameron's if Derek did say so himself.
Once they were out of view, Cameron backed up and almost, almost reached out and did the same as Derek had done and grabbed John by his arm. At the last moment she stopped herself and instead turned to face him for a split second, "John, head to the ATV's, I'll watch your back..and I'll be right behind you."
John couldn't stop his eyes from rolling. He couldn't believe the reactions of everyone around him - yes he'd done something risky, but it had paid off. They were all alive, only Charley was wounded, and they'd wiped out the men attacking them. "They're all gone, or dead, Cameron. Come on."
"John!" If John hadn't known her as well as he did, he'd have sworn she sounded irritated, "go, now, please don't argue with me."
"Jeez, fine... mom." Stepping up on the other side of Charley, John decided to help Derek guide the man towards the bikes. At least that way he could be of some use.
Sarah silently observed the exchange while keeping her eyes trained on the trees, just incase anybody decided to do something stupid. She'd never see anything but bliss from her son and his future bride since she'd found out about the relationship. Either they were careful to hide their interactions from her, or it was a rare occurrence, but she was certain that Cameron was pissed with her son.
Despite all her years of experience, all her training, her knowledge at fighting Skynet, even she had her doubts about whether her son could win this fight, despite the fact the enemy was indeed in love with him, whether she knew it yet or not.
Falling in to step behind them, Sarah couldn't help but reach out a hand to guide Amy away from the battlefield as she seemed transfixed by the sight they were leaving. It served as an unpleasant reminder to the mini machine that humans were indeed fragile, that her Sarah was fragile.
They were all, so very fragile.
Huge, huge thank to Dekardkain, without whom this chapter would never have seen the light of day. Check out his story 'Becoming John Connor', it's pretty good!