Hi guys,
Thanks to reviewers lje100smith, JustJoe, sasha starr, keox, olischulu, XxDeathStarxX, hollyxsuicide, kaotic2, uncommoner, EvilTheLast, RVonE, Jaing Li, Lsquare, Liz, The1Russter and Nyrki.
If truth be told, Sarah had chosen a nice house for the family to move in to. The landlords had kept the property looking pristine while it was on the market. It was picturesque, a far cry from some of the places Sarah and a young John had called home earlier in their lives.
The large garden at the rear of the house was particularly pleasant on the eye. The lawn was neat and trimmed, surrounded by plants and flowers of varying shapes, sizes and vivid colours. It even had a nice deck that faced the sun most of the day, perfect for barbecue's and entertaining, that was, if the Connor's actually had any friends to entertain.
But they didn't, so the deck had remained largely untouched ever since they moved in. The grass however was a different matter.
In the dead of night, if any of the neighbours had looked closely, they'd have noticed the peculiar sight of a little blonde girl sitting cross legged in the middle of the lawn. They might have passed comment on the awful parenting on show, letting a little girl stay up way past her bedtime. They may even take note of the fact it was well past midnight and the girl was out of the house, alone, vulnerable, when she should have been tucked up safely in her bed and dreaming sweet dreams.
Amy however didn't sleep, she didn't have a bedtime, and at that particular moment Sarah, her 'mommy' couldn't give a damn what the little machine was doing or where she was. Sarah had made it abundantly clear that she was annoyed with Amy, for reasons Amy didn't quite understand. She'd blamed the little girl for not protecting John, but she had a feeling it was more down to the fact that it was actually Amy who suggested the whole plan in the first place.
She had a sneaking suspicion Sarah was trying to pass her own guilt off on to Amy for concocting the plan that used Charley. Sarah felt bad for Charley getting hurt, and she couldn't handle it herself.
"Stupid Sarah," Amy muttered to nobody in particular as she played with a few strands of grass between her fingers.
Amy had done her job, why couldn't Sarah see that? She'd protected her from the three armed men trying to sneak up behind her. Sarah wouldn't have stood a chance if it weren't for Amy, she'd be feeling no guilt at all, she'd be feeling nothing in fact.
Amy didn't like it when Sarah was mad at her. It made her feel bad. It made her want to try and do anything to make it up to her, to try and set things right. But she didn't know why she felt these things, she shouldn't have felt any differently about the situation. She should've just continued on with her job and kept Sarah safe, as per her self appointed mission directive.
But then again, she shouldn't have been sitting in the middle of the lawn in the dead of night. She shouldn't have had a teddy bear for a best friend. She shouldn't have felt sympathy for Cameron as she listened to the cyborg mope around the house after her row with John. He'd kicked her out and she was clearly upset over that fact, and all Amy wanted to do was to try and comfort her.
Empathy wasn't something that machines, even one as advanced as Amy were supposed to know, it wasn't right, it wasn't supposed to be. And yet here she was, doing her own version of moping as she played in the grass, cursing her advanced hearing for being able to detect that nobody in the house was asleep. Cameron was shuffling about in her room, no doubt alternating between looking out of her window and trying to occupy her mind with some menial task. Sarah hadn't stopped tossing and turning since she'd slipped in to bed after her row with Charley. John hadn't slept a wink either, and she could only guess what was going through his mind, and Charley, well he was in too much pain and discomfort to sleep properly anyway.
Shaking her head and trying to block out the thoughts, Amy tried her best to focus on the garden she was occupying. She scanned her surroundings for any signs of life and detected over two thousand individual life signs, all insects except for one toad hiding under one of the bushes.
Huffing, Amy looked down at her hands in her lap, unhappy that her little diversion hadn't lasted longer. Her sensors then alerted her to a tiny movement on the underside of her hand. Picking it up off her lap she turned it over and examined it.
A small smile found its way to her lips as she discovered a ladybug crawling across the back of her hand. She turned her hand over and watched the insect crawl around the underside of her hand, unaware it was being watched intently and scanned every time one of its minuscule limbs came in to contact with her hand. It flapped its wings sporadically but never lifted off, Amy found the thing intriguing, well, more interesting than anything else going on at the minute.
She was so enraptured with the creature that she couldn't help a pout when it finally did lift off her hand and flew away. Amy leaned her head back and tracked it's movement in the darkness. Her targeting systems detailing the optimal point to take a shot at it. Amy cancelled the readout and sincerely wished she could remove that functionality from herself. But alas, John wasn't at that point of proficiency with reprogramming yet, and she didn't trust that bitch Weaver to do it. In fact, she didn't want her near her ever again.
Watching the ladybug, her smile turned in to a frown as it chose to land on a window of the house…Sarah's window.
"Fucking Sarah." Amy cursed under her breath as she stood, brushing the dirt off her dress as she did so.
Deciding she'd spent enough time moping and bitching to herself, Amy set off to do her final perimeter sweep for the night. She may not particularly like Sarah at the minute, but it was her job to protect her and she wasn't about to just abandon that duty.
Making her way to the front of the house and scanning for threats every step of the way, she looked up towards the roof of the house. Machines were nothing if not creatures of habit and routine, Amy was no exception. After the family had moved in to their new house she'd quickly found her 'spot'. Up on the roof just by the old fashioned chimney stack was the perfect spot to give her an all around view of the surrounding areas of the house. Nothing could ever sneak past her when she was up there, after all, she didn't have 'eyes' so to speak. She had an all around field of vision like all liquid metal machines did.
Making sure nobody was around one final time, Amy reached her arm up and tried to extend it to the edge of the roof to haul herself up. When she attempted it though, she felt a pain like no other lance up her arm. She immediately clutched it in towards herself and grimaced in pain. Looking down, she found her arm looking like it was about to drip away from the rest of her body. Her liquid metal matrix had lost its cohesion and her arm looked like a large metal teardrop as it slowly sagged away from her body.
Focusing to try and ignore the searing pain travelling throughout her body, Amy issued the necessary commands to reform her arm. Thankfully, her body complied and her arm slowly began to solidify, first in to the same shape as the teardrop, then after a moments pause, it began to retract towards her and change shape and colour to match her skin. After what felt like the longest few seconds of Amy's short existence, her arm had fully reformed.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she initiated an internal diagnostic program as she stared intently at her reformed arm, touching it experimentally with her other hand while she waited for the results of her scan. She was still prodding at her forearm when her HUD flashed up the results of her scan…she didn't like what she found.
Structural integrity compromised…
Source: Unknown…
Liquid metal matrix stability - 88%…
Recommend immediate shutdown and await Skynet repair…
Initiating retrieval signal…
Amy cancelled the signal, it wouldn't do her any good anyway, but the results of her analysis were distressing. The stability of her matrix had dropped under ninety percent since the last time she'd checked. Her diagnostic systems had so far proven useless in working out what was wrong with her, all they could tell her was that something was indeed malfunctioning.
Amy had just started to mull over the implications of that when a gentle voice made her snap her eyes towards the front door of the house.
"Honey," Charley said in a soft voice as he quickly made his way over towards the little girl, "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
Surprised by his genuine sounding concern and kind voice, Amy merely shrugged pathetically.
The tiny little movement of her shoulders made Charley's heart skip a few beats. He just wanted to wrap this little kid up in a big, soft blanket and protect her from the world. Kneeling down in front of her, he made sure she was focused on him before he spoke. "How come you're not in bed? It's late."
Again, Amy merely shrugged, there wasn't much she could tell him that wouldn't either compromise her identity or was just a flat out lie. She liked Charley, he was a nice man, he didn't need to know about her true form, not yet anyway.
Charley let out a sad sounding sigh. He stood up in front of her and offered his hand out to her, "Come on, let's get you to bed."
Amy's eyes lingered on his outstretched hand for a long moment before they made their way up to his kind smile. Slowly, almost hesitantly she reached out and took hold of his hand, careful to control her shape as best she could through fear of harming him.
Charley took hold of her hand with a smile, a smile which quickly turned in to a frown.
This little girl is freezing cold…Sarah, what are you doing with this kid?
Fighting off the urge to go and shout some sense in to Sarah, Charley smiled encouragingly again as he led Amy towards the front door. When they were across the threshold, Charley switched Amy's hand in to his other one so that he could close the door with a quiet click.
Amy watched as he swapped her hand around again and followed when he led her up the stairs. When they reached the top and the hallway with the family bedrooms lining it, they stopped. Amy looked up to see Charley looking a little lost.
"Which room is yours?" He said quietly, obviously not wanting to wake anyone.
Without speaking, Amy started tugging towards the room that was 'designated', translated argued, as being hers. She hadn't had a chance to decorate it yet much to her chagrin. The boring, dowdy, beige walls did nothing for her, and the sooner she could get something brighter on them the better. She reached up and wrapped her tiny hand around the door handle and gave it a sharp twist and allowed the door to swing open and smack off the wall, causing Charley to wince at the loud clash it caused.
Pausing for just a moment to listen and make sure he hadn't woken anyone up, Charley glanced down to find Amy staring up at him with a confused expression on her face. Obviously the child had no understanding of the noise she created with pretty much every action she made. Letting go of her hand, Charley turned around and gently pushed the door, leaving it open just a crack. "Okay, let's find you something to wear for bed."
With that, he made his way over to her closet to find it rather bare. In fact, it was totally bare. Moving on, he decided that the family probably hadn't had time to shop for clothes for everyone, after all, he didn't know how long they'd been living in their new house. He arrived at her dresser and again started digging, pleasantly surprised to find at least some clothes in the drawers.
Amy watched him from across the room and couldn't help but smile at the mans good nature. Bracing herself and removing the smile from her face, Amy concentrated and attempted to shift form. To her relief, she didn't feel anything like what she had earlier and was able to shift just as easily as entire body shimmered and re-emerged, having switched from a dress to pyjamas. By the time she'd reformed, Charley was still digging for something suitable.
Her smile returning, she shuffled over towards him and reached up to tug on the hem of his shirt to get his attention. Charley turned around and looked down to find her changed and ready for bed.
Huh, must've had some clothes near the bed, alright.
Smiling, he turned her around with a gentle hand on her shoulder and nudged her towards her bed. Pulling back the covers, he watched her climb in and lay down on her back. Laying the covers back over her, he made sure she was snugly tucked in before crouching down beside the bed. He couldn't help but smile as she flashed him an infectious grin. "Is that your bear?" He asked, glancing over at the nightstand.
Amy nodded, following his gaze to the stuffed animal. She watched as he reached out and lifted it off the furniture and examined it.
"What's his name?" He inquired.
"Barney," she answered in a quiet voice.
Charley held the bear in his hands and turned it over and around. It was a threadbare old thing, only a few fragile looking threads holding the whole thing together, and it looked like it could do with a good wash. "Barney huh?"
He handed it off to Amy who wrapped her small arms around it and snuggled it in close. A bright, beaming smile adorned her face causing Charley to break out in one of his own. He didn't know how this little angel had come to be in the care of the Connor's, he didn't know if she knew what was going on with the world in general, machines, Judgement Day. However he did know that she deserved better, after all, every little girl deserves to be tucked in by someone who cares about them, and if Sarah either wasn't willing to or just flat out didn't care about the girl, then Charley felt better knowing that he'd looked after her for at least one night.
"Goodnight Amy," he said as he stood and watched her snuggle the bear closer and turn on to her side. Just as he was about half way to the door, he was stopped in his tracks by a tiny voice.
"Uncle Charley?"
Charley tried so hard to keep the smile off his face, Uncle Charley? This girl was just too cute for words. "Yeah hon?"
"Thank you."
With that he looked back to find Amy closing her eyes and burying her head in the pillow. Feeling a pang of sympathy, he managed to croak out a few words before slipping out of the room and quietly closing the door behind him. "You're welcome."
Amy opened her eyes as soon as she heard her door click closed and rolled on to her back again. Seeing perfectly well in the darkness, she held her bear out in front of her eyes.
Charley was a good man, he seemed to genuinely care. She'd known little bits of information about him, what she'd been told by future John mostly and she knew that he cared for the man like he was his own father. He had a kind soul and didn't deserve what had just happened to him that day. He should hate Sarah, he should hate John, he should've hated everybody for being used like that, and yet he took sympathy on a 'little girl', who in actuality had came up with the plan that put him in jeopardy in the first place.
It didn't sit right with Amy. She had a strong sense of right and wrong, and at that moment she felt awful, first off for putting him in danger like that, and second, for letting him take care of her like she was a genuine child.
Every liquid metal Terminator in existence had their preferred form and Amy was obviously no exception. The little girl she played, although it was originally chosen as a copy and then later a tribute to her first ever friend who was tragically murdered by Skynet forces, was her form, it was her, it was who she was. Sure she could've chosen to be anything, anything to help the mission, to keep Sarah safe. But she didn't want to, she liked being Amy, personality quirks, glitches and all.
But she didn't feel right about what had just happened, she could tell that Charley was deeply upset by her and her actions, albeit unintentionally. That didn't bode well for her plans for the future, and true enough she heard some telltale noises coming from downstairs signalling that Charley was gathering his belongings and preparing to leave. No, she didn't like this feeling at all, but it wasn't wrong what she did, was it?
After everything she did for everyone else, didn't she deserve a little TLC? Was it against the rules for her to be taken care of for a change?
If Charley wanted to be nice to her, then that was his choice. Especially after what happened earlier, she deserved to be treated nicely.
It was a worrying development. The first time she'd felt the same pain she'd dismissed it as a glitch, but that was the second time it had happened…and it was getting worse.
Setting her bear down on her chest, Amy stared at her hand in the darkness as she turned it over, examining her palm and her fingers. Experimentally, and with a true sense of trepidation, she issued the command for her arm to change shape. Slowly but surely, a long spear extended out from it until it almost scraped the ceiling. Moving it around carefully, she felt no pain or discomfort and stared as she retracted the blade back in to her hand.
Sighing, she wrapped both her arms around her bear again and closed her eyes, all sorts of thoughts about what could possibly be going wrong with her filling her mind…with one possible reason sticking out like a sore thumb, and she didn't like it one little bit.
Apart from hearing a little commotion in the middle of the night, John had spent the eight hours since he'd turned in in utter silence. He had no chance of being granted sleep, his brain wouldn't let him. It did have too much going on after all, and John found he just couldn't shake off the chaotic thoughts long enough for sleep to claim him.
He'd taken part in a battle where he'd been forced to kill at least three people, three human beings, and for all he knew that tally was higher, he had no way of knowing. He'd watched the man he cared for like a father be shot and hit the dirt, in his mind it was like watching him die, things could so easily have turned out differently. To top all that off, he'd been yelled at by his mother, kind of yelled at by Derek and then he'd suffered through the worst aspect of the whole night.
He'd had his first real fight with Cameron and ended up kicking her out of his room.
That didn't sit right with him and he'd felt awful almost immediately after doing it. He'd forgotten that things like this were all new to Cameron, whether it be sadness, joy or anger, she didn't really know how to handle them properly and she'd simply spoken her mind. But then he'd took what she said and used it to fuel his already growing sense of anger over the whole situation involving Charley in the first place. The man had been shot, and it was his fault. He could've stopped the family from doing anything, he could've insisted they just grab Charley and stash him somewhere safe. He was certain Cameron would've backed him and that's all he would've needed.
But he didn't, he allowed the plan to go ahead and he'd took his regret out on Cameron in a haze of anger and guilt.
But, he did kind of have a case. Cameron had basically told him that Charley was expendable, that she'd rather kill him herself if it meant protecting John. That didn't sit right, and while it was to be expected, he didn't exactly have to like it. Cameron was just so blunt about it all, 'John Connor must survive'. He was so sick of hearing that, sick of hearing about the great man he was destined to become. He'd already accepted that J-Day was inevitable and that he had to become that man, so why did people insist on trying to ram it down his throat?
John had already asked Derek to help with his 'stage fright' issues when it came to the heat of battle. He had consciously stepped forward in to a leadership role. He didn't want nor need coddling, he was John Connor after all wasn't he?
Cameron had hurt him with her words. He thought of all people she'd be the one to take his side, to back him up. But no, she'd argued against him and basically trodden on everything he believed in, the importance of human life. He was right to be angry with her, wasn't he?
John started working himself in to something of a stupor about the whole situation for about the fiftieth time since he'd laid down the night before. This time however he felt his anger rising to the surface much more potently than it had any previous times. But he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was purposefully coming up with a reason to hate her, to avoid her…
No, that wasn't it, John thought to himself as he sat up in bed, snatching the alarm clock off the nightstand to glare at the red digital numbers more closely. Sick of laying around to stew, he stood from the bed, tossing the alarm clock on the nightstand with a crash before pulling on his pants from the day before from where they came to rest on the floor. Sliding in to them with more force than was necessary, he set about finding a decently wearable shirt, still simmering in his own self righteous anger.
Having finally negotiated getting dressed, he snatched his phone up off the nightstand and tucked it in his pocket before striding out of the door determinedly, not bothering to even close it behind him as he descended the stairs. As expected, Cameron was nowhere to be found in the living room. She was probably in her room, or out doing something productive, either way he was glad she wasn't in his way to pile more 'where are you going?', 'you shouldn't be out there alone, John' shit down his throat.
Shaking his head, he grabbed the keys for the truck off the coffee table and set out for the door, snatching a jacket off a hook near the door almost as an afterthought. Closing the door behind him non too carefully, he unlocked the truck door with the key fob remote and slid inside, turned the engine over and hastily pulled away.
Halfway down the road, he pulled out his cellphone and paused when he pressed the button to unlock the screen. There was the picture he took of his Cameron, staring him right in the face. Her cute smile and her beautiful features made him momentarily falter, made him reconsider the way he was acting. But then he thought of Charley, and he found himself able to push those thoughts to the side.
He quickly keyed in Derek's number and listened to it ring. Switching the phone to speaker he set it on the dash and waited for his uncle to answer. Eventually he did after about ten rings and sounded decidedly groggy.
"What?"
"Hey, where are you?"
"What the fuck does it matter where I am? What do you want?"
"It's almost six am, time for training."
"Are you kidding me? We had a…busy day yesterday, call me back later."
"What happened to the five am dousing with freezing cold water? Where are you, I'll meet you there." John waited a good ten count before he heard Derek release a low groan down the receiver, followed by the sound of sheets rustling, and he could've swore he heard a soft, feminine moan of disapproval.
"Alright, pick me up on the corner of thirty first street in twenty minutes."
With that he hung up, and John was once again confronted with the sight of Cameron staring at him, almost as if she was silently judging him from across the ether via his wallpaper. With a sigh, he turned it face down on the dash before getting his bearings to take him in to the city.
Thirty first street…Jessica must live in a nice place if he's hanging out there.
Letting out a quick breath of laughter, John couldn't help but wonder why Derek even bothered with not telling him exactly where he was, it was painfully obvious where he was and what, or rather who he was doing.
Dark…
Light….
Light…
Light…
Dark…
Cameron couldn't help but get the distinct impression that her scanning subroutines and identification systems could be put to much better use than it was at the moment. Separating various items of clothing wasn't exactly taxing for her advanced CPU, but nevertheless she stuck to the task she'd been assigned. Laundry duty.
Picking up a pair of Derek's boxers and suppressing the urge to immediately go and scrub her hands clean, Cameron filed them in the 'dark' category and added them to the pile on her left. Next up was a pair of her socks, they went in the 'light' category, as did one of Sarah's vests.
Next up came one of John's black T-shirts. Obviously destined for the 'dark' category, Cameron paid no mind to the readout on her HUD informing her of that fact. Instead she couldn't help but smirk as she recognised it as a garment she'd once worn after making love to John. She'd worn it to cover her modesty when slipping out of his room one night, despite the fact that it wouldn't have mattered what she was wearing if anybody had caught her. But she'd done it anyway, it made her feel 'normal', and it made John get that goofy smile she was so fond of.
She found it odd that something as simple as a shirt was capable of eliciting feelings within her like that, triggering her memories and bringing a smile to her face. But it was also capable of reminding her of things she didn't want to think about. Like the fact John hadn't even bothered to say goodbye to her that morning before he took off. Like the fact John had yelled at her and kicked her out of his room the night before.
With a frown, Cameron set the shirt aside on to her dark pile and picked up the next garment, a pair of her underwear. As she turned them over in her hands, debating if they classified as light or dark, they had elements of both, the sound of small footsteps behind her caused her to turn around. She watched as Amy descended the stairs to the basement by jumping each step, landing on both feet.
Cameron silently cringed as Amy seemed oblivious to the fact the relatively old stairs didn't seem to like her weight being thrown on to them all that much. The smaller machine reached the bottom step and leaped off, landing a few feet away as she looked up at Cameron with a grin. She watched as Amy padded up beside her and plucked the underwear out of her hands and tossed them on to the light pile.
"Whatcha doooin'?" Amy inquired, climbing up on to her tip toes to peer over the edge of the bench.
"Laundry," Cameron stated monotonously as she picked up a pair of Sarah's jeans.
Amy rolled her eyes at her friend. "I can see that. What happened, Sarah get sick of touching Derek's sweaty boxers?"
Shaking her head, Cameron glanced over at the pair of Derek's boxers she'd just had the misfortune of handling. "No, but Sarah did instruct me to come down here."
Amy wasn't expecting an affirmative answer, her surprise causing a Cameron like tilt of her head. "Why, what did you do?"
Cameron frowned as she replayed the verbal volley from a clearly irate Sarah in the corner of her HUD. She could actually make out droplets of foam at the corner of her mouth. "I believe Sarah doesn't like to be interrupted during her workout."
"That's it?" Amy asked with a scrunched up face of confusion. Even for Sarah that was a little excessive.
"Yes...I may have asked a question or two." Cameron said, sounding more guilty by the second.
"Uh huh...about what?" Amy wandered around to Cameron's other side and started poking through the 'light' pile of clothes, much to Cameron's annoyance.
"Many things. John mostly." Cameron clarified, as if there would be any other thing she'd be talking with Sarah about.
"You didn't just go all 'to the point cyborg' on her did you?" Pausing her inspection, Amy glanced up at her friend, a questioning look on her face.
"I might have asked one too many questions about John's behaviour and my relationship with him."
"And you're wondering why she banished you to the basement?" Amy asked with an exaggerated eye roll at her friend. For all that Cameron was a highly advanced cyborg with a brain infinitely more complex than a dozen supercomputers, she was so dense sometimes.
"But Sarah has shown an interest in our relationship. I thought we were finally coming to some form of acceptance." Cameron frowned, obviously she had misread Sarah's actions as interest rather than the tolerance it now appeared to be.
Amy shook her head and set her bear down on top of the dryer, propping him up against the pile of unsorted laundry. "Well in your defence, Sarah is pretty pissed right now. She's pretty easy to provoke."
Cameron turned away from her own self pity and looked down at the little machine standing beside her. Whenever she spoke of Sarah there was a distinct sense of longing and sadness, especially with the current mood Sarah was in, namely pissed at Amy, John, Charley, Derek. Hell up until an hour ago Cameron was the only one she wasn't angry with. It was like the good old days only in reverse.
The human tendency to blame others for apparently doing nothing that warranted it was a confusing and pointless trait which Cameron had always failed to understand. It perplexed her as to why they didn't just come out and admit fault, it would be far more efficient than causing alienation and unrest by attempting to pass one's anger off on to another.
Unfortunately it was a trait John had inherited from his mother, albeit a slightly modified version. John also blamed himself for a lot of things. For putting people in danger, for them becoming targets just for knowing him. However, lately it seemed that he'd developed the need to blame others for inconsequential things.
It was probably the reason he'd taken off that morning without even attempting to seek her out, to talk to her, to say goodbye...again. The first time he'd done it she'd been able to forgive him, she knew how badly her exposed arm was affecting him. But the second time he'd done it that morning, she couldn't help but feel that she really had upset him with her comments.
She didn't believe he was being fair to her, after all, everything she'd said was true even though he didn't really want to hear or believe it. Cameron could feel the distinct desire to call him out on his attitude building within her. Usually she would take it with a smile, or blank expression, but lately she found that since she'd entered in to a relationship with John that she felt she could be more assertive. Certainly she felt like she was able to act upon her desires and wants more readily than before.
Yes, when John got home that day she'd confront him about his treatment of her. She didn't ask for much, but she felt respect should be one of those things she'd earned, at least in John's eyes anyway.
Amy stared at her friend who seemed to be zoned out again, it was a common occurrence these days. She reached out and give her a nudge in her thigh with her elbow to try and bring her back to the present from whatever dark place in her chip she'd taken refuge in.
Feeling the nudge, Cameron looked down, eyes focusing on a worried looking Amy. As if her lapse had never happened she resumed her conversation. "What do you intend to do about Sarah?"
Amy shrugged, "I dunno, it's not really my place to do anything is it?"
Cameron turned around to face Amy properly, "It wasn't always my job to make sure John was happy, and not just safe. But I did it anyway."
"That's different," Amy countered, "You loved John, you always have."
Ignoring the pointed remark about Cameron loving anyone, she pressed on. "Are you saying you don't love Sarah?"
Slightly shocked, although she really shouldn't have been, at Cameron's bluntness, Amy uncharacteristically stuttered. "Of course I don't…I just like her is all, I don't like seeing her hurt, or sad."
Amy frowned and looked away. Cameron stared down at her, trying to make sense of what she was seeing and trying to reconcile that with what she was being told. While still trying to sort through her own jumbled emotions, she tried to make use of every available point of research available to her. Amy and Sarah being one of those cases, albeit an unconventional one.
But still, Sarah always melted with Amy, and the machine always displayed open affection towards her, even if it was sometimes unwanted. It was a curious case, a case of impossible situations fighting against each other. Not at all dissimilar to herself and John, at least at first, and especially during the darker times in her life before John came to realise her true value to him.
She sympathised with Amy. She couldn't really do anything about Sarah's anger towards her, all she could do was grin and bear it until she calmed down and came to realise it wasn't anybody's fault. Something she hoped John would soon do too.
With her equivalent of a sigh, she glanced over towards her pile of laundry when she noticed Amy's bear propped up against it.
It was filthy, threadbare and barely worth the description of 'stuffed toy', such was the lack of actual stuffing still remaining inside of it. An idea quickly forming in her mind, she resolved to attempt something to cheer Amy up. After all, it was nice to have somebody be nice to you, Cameron had discovered.
Seemingly relegated to her dungeon for the day, Cameron resumed her work, and Amy, apparently sensing the same thing, picked up her bear without a word and settled on to the old, battered couch in the corner of the room, both waiting for something to happen that they had no control over and couldn't speed up any. It was an altogether frustrating situation for both of them to be in.
Crumpling his napkin in to a ball, Quinn tossed it in to the basket his burger had been served in. Picking up the can of Pepsi off the counter, he downed what remained before standing up from his stool. Sliding a ten dollar note out of his pocket, he dropped it on the counter and took off towards the door to the diner.
"Seeya later hon." The waitress called as she collected what he'd left behind.
She didn't wait for a reply and didn't get one. Quinn was already out of the door and crossing the street. He walked like a man who had a purpose, a man who knew what he was doing, where he was going and always had himself collected.
Such was his confidence that he breezed through the reception of the office building his meeting was taking place in without so much as a sideways glance. Instead he headed straight for the elevator that would take him to Mr. Vasquez's office.
The elevator doors opened with a ding and he stepped out in to the lobby. His eyes lit up when they landed on Vasquez's pretty assistant Vanessa, the woman glancing up and smiling delightfully when she realised who it was who'd stepped out of the elevator.
"Well hello there, handsome!"
Alejandro Vasquez sat behind his desk, in his air conditioned office with his magnificent view, scribbling away at some reports when he heard a soft, feminine giggle emerging from the vicinity of his assistant. The woman was nothing if not annoying, and had the habit of flirting with anything remotely male and handsome that walked through the doors, but she was very good at her job, and he was a man who admired efficiency. Which made the conversation he was about to have decidedly unpleasant.
Leaning over, he flicked the button on the intercom, "Vanessa, would you please show Mr. Quinn in to my office."
A moment later a harassed sounding voice replied, "Of, of course sir."
A few seconds longer than it should've taken for him to emerge, Quinn walked in to the office, Vanessa still giggling behind him.
"Mr. Quinn." Vasquez didn't bother to look up from his paperwork. Despite the fact he'd been in his office for hours, he had yet to loosen his tie, in fact, there wasn't a single hair out of place nor a crease on his clothing. The man was nothing if not immaculate in his appearance, "You look…well rested."
Nodding with a small smile, Quinn sat himself down in the seat opposite the desk without an invite, "Yeah, I gotta hand it to these yanks, they know how to cook a burger. You ever tried that place across the street?"
"I prefer my food not be delivered in a basket with paper at the bottom." He said with a shake of his head, disgust dripping from his voice. The man sitting opposite him surprising to say the least, given how much trouble Alejandro deemed him to be in. He was either ignorant of that fact or just plain didn't feel the same way, this conversation would tell. "So, are you enjoying the perks of your current assignment?"
"Yeah, I still haven't found anywhere that sells a proper tinny of Fosters, and the barbie's are nowhere near as good as it is in Oz. But yeah, it's gettin' better." The man's thick Australian accent very prominent in his speech, Alejandro didn't pick up on every slang word, but he could just about muddle through as he watched Quinn cross his legs, propping one foot on his knee.
"I'm glad you appear to be adjusting," He allowed the first hint of annoyance to slip in to his voice, "As your employment contract with my organisation will likely be a very long one."
"Thanks boss, glad you appreciate my talents." Quinn answered as his eyes started to wander around the room. Religious, criminal oriented company owners had very nice offices. Not everything in the movies was made up it seemed…and the pretty assistant stereotype was also thankfully not just for the movies too.
"You have been made privy to very…sensitive information." Alex shrugged, still not bothering himself to meet the mercenary's eyes, still scribbling away at his pile of reports, the life of a CEO. "I'm afraid it would make your dismissal a…messy affair."
"Dismissal?" Quinn scoffed, returning his attention to the man across the desk, "And here I thought you wanted me to take care of this troublesome family, to handle your security from now on in?"
"I value results Mr. Quinn, not people." He sounded amused by his own little speech, it was after all a far cry from the language he once used in the company of his amigos back in the day. Finally looking up at the man in is employment, he folded his hands together on the table top, "So tell me, do you have any results to report?"
"Yeah, I do. Those guys you hired to do last night's job were about as fucking useful as tits on a bull," Again, Vasquez didn't quite get some of the lingo the man used, but his masked face kept that fact well hidden, "What were you paying them anyway? Five pesos an hour, or just a few shiny pennies?"
"Our payment plan is none of your concern." Vasquez tilted his head just a fraction to the side, "And I might remind you that you were hired to lead those men. Leaders are expected to accept responsibility for the failings of those who serve them, are they not?"
"Hey, a building is only as good as the stuff you use to build it. Don't matter who puts it together if the mortar washes away the first time it rains." Quinn, unfazed by the blame being pinned on him, or at least attempted to be pinned on him, uncrossed his legs and casually leaned forward, awaiting a response.
"Did you accomplish any of the objectives assigned to you?" Vasquez placed emphasis on the word 'any', after all the job had been very much a disappointment.
"Somebody managed to hit this John Connor's daddy. Went down pretty hard, could've died…probably didn't." He answered with a nonchalant shrug.
Vasquez quirked a brow, partially at the statement, mostly at the man's attitude, "And you lost how many of my men in the process?"
"Well you lost over a dozen guys, but I wouldn't lose any sleep over that. Like I said, tits on a bull." Quinn leaned back in his chair again, a slight grin tugging at his lips.
"How exactly do you manage to lose nearly twenty of my best men?" Vasquez's glare could've cut through ice, and it was getting more menacing by the moment, "Hand picked men, with enough firepower to topple a small country, without so much as wounding your target? He's just a boy!"
"Your best men? Hell, if that was your best I'd hate to see the rest of 'em. As for them being 'men', half of 'em ran off as soon as that crazy lady with the machine gun came charging down the hill." He shook his head, again with a grin threatening to break out in to a smile, "You want me to do what you ask, you let me take care of little things like getting the right kind of people in to get the job done."
"My men can be trusted," Vasquez laced his hands together, elbows propped up on the table as he stared down the merc in front of him, They understand the stakes, and what we hope to accomplish. They share the same beliefs, the same faith. So, I imagine it's time to broach a very important question: what do you believe, Mr. Quinn?"
"I believe in getting the job done, and the crap you're giving me to do it ain't gonna cut it mate." He stood up, his six foot plus frame leaning over the desk. Ordinarily he'd have looked intimidating, but his words came to the contrary, "You wanna carry on with your crusade, fine. But I want my own team with me, proper men, real men who follow me."
"I prefer men who value cause over a pay packet," He shook his head, not moved by the man standing over him like that, "Men who fight for money tend to become…unreliable, whenever the prospect of earning more elsewhere becomes available. Even if it is the enemy making the offer."
"My guys will go where I tell 'em to go and kill who I tell 'em to kill. It doesn't matter what the reason is, if you pay 'em well enough they'll kill this Connor kid and his entire family." He paused and scoffed, taking his seat again, "And they'll do a hell of a lot better job than your guys could ever do."
"They would need to be told what they're going up against." Vasquez glared, cutting right to the heart of the matter, quickly tiring of this conversation, regretting not simply killing the man as soon as he set foot through the door. "You've seen what we're fighting against Mr. Quinn. How do you intend to explain it to them?"
"The only thing my people will need to see is the colour of your money, and the only thing they'll need to hear is my voice telling them to pull the trigger." Leaning back in his chair, he plastered a smug grin over his face, "My offer, take it or leave it. I can find work elsewhere, but we both know you'll find nobody better to take care of your little problem than me."
"It is not wise to try and dictate terms of our partnership," Vasquez ground out between gritted teeth, "Especially after arriving with news of such a spectacular failure. You may very well be a good soldier, Mr. Quinn, but you underestimated your target, as you underestimate me."
Very much to Vasquez's surprise, Quinn's smug grin spread to a full blown smile, the Australian not at all intimidated by the man's thinly veiled threat. "And you underestimate me, Mr. Vasquez. In fact, now that I know what I'm dealing with, I have a plan to take care of the boy and his family for you. But I can't do it without your co-operation."
"And what would you need for this…plan?"
Grinning, Quinn replied, "Twice what you're paying me…plus enough for six more like me."
Trying so hard to prevent his eyes from bulging, Vasquez leaned back in his chair. "You failed with twenty, now you want me to believe you will succeed with seven?" He added an eye roll for effect, "Does this plan include a nuclear strike or simply mass suicide?"
"It includes you giving me the freedom to operate. We're not going to do what you want with half arsed plans and twenty fat, drunk gringo's. Trust me," He rounded off his request with a smirk.
"I have no reason to trust you, Mr. Quinn, and those who ask for it, rarely deserve it." An icy edge crept in to his voice, giving the distinct impression that with a snap of his fingers, Quinn would cease to exist. "Yes, the men you had with you were not trained soldiers. But as their commander, you were in charge. It was your responsibility to make the correct decisions. You walked in to an ambush! This does not inspire my confidence in your 'superior' abilities."
"As I recall it was your plan to use this Dixon guy, not mine. Remember what I said abbot the mortar?" He shrugged, not in the least bit affected by Vasquez's demeanour, "Not my plan Mr. Vasquez."
"That man was the only weak link associated with the Connor family."He paused only to shake his head, "The mother and the man are soldiers, Mr. Quinn. Killers. The 'girls' are unstoppable killing machines. To attack from any other angle would be to assault their strengths, instead of their weakness."
"You see, I wouldn't have gone that way." With that he stood and made his way over to the wide window looking out over downtown L.A. and admired the scenery for a moment, "I'm the best at what I do, and you didn't hire me for my sparkling personality, did you?"
"You're good material, Mr. Quinn." He eyed the mercenary for a long moment before continuing, "And I do hate to waste good material. But if you fail me again, I may be forced to re-evaluate that belief."
Turning back from the window, Quinn formed a confident smile, "Good, I'll await payment before I contact my guys." With that, he set off towards the door to the office, "Nice seein' ya boss."
"The funds necessary to hire your men will be deposited to the usual account," The tone of his voice clearly implied his terms were non negotiable, "As well as a few crates of prototype weapons from our friends at Aegis Enterprises I believe you might find useful in engaging your non-human targets."
"Your money, on the other hand," He added with a smile, causing Quinn to stop in his tracks, much to Vasquez's satisfaction, "Will be delivered only upon completion of your task. With a twenty five percent bonus, should you complete it in a timely manner."
"You know my terms…but you do drive a hard bargain Mr. Vasquez," He turned back to face the desk and the smug grin on Vasquez's face, "Fifty percent up front."
Once again, Vasquez clasped his hands together and rested his chin on them as he contemplated the terms. His smile grew as he considered that this man's greed may very well offer him a very specific opportunity to accomplish something he hadn't yet dared to even attempt. Hell, he could always find more mercenaries should this one not come back. "Fifty percent up front. But your pay will match your assignment, and the risk you must take to accomplish it. Do you accept my terms?"
"Depends, what do you need me to do?" Quinn answered without a moment's hesitation, the opportunity to squeeze every last dollar out of this lunatic something he had no problem with.
"There is a piece of technology, very valuable to my benefactors." He leaned back in his chair again, "The little girl, the machine. The one I serve requires it for…study."
He stood and walked around his desk to look out of the window, "You bring me this thing, intact and operational, and I will not only double your payment, but provide you a permanent position as my head of security, at a yearly wage comparable to most Fortune CEO's."
Quinn stood stock still, eyeing the back of the man who'd just offered to pay him more money than he could ever imagine being able to spend, and all he had to do was bring the mini metal to him, still functional. It would mean a slight alteration to his plan, but as it happened, their ideas mostly coincided. "Done. You don't want the other one, the other metal, the pretty one?"
"No," Vasquez returned to his desk and his papers, slipping easily back in to CEO mode, "Ddestroy it if you can, it'll make it easier to kill the boy."
"You've got yourself a deal." Quinn turned around again and stepped out of the office without another word.
Nothing stirred in the small clearing out in the middle of nowhere. Nothing except a few small animals, insects, the wind in the trees and the sound of leaves rustling. Curiously, a log was propped up on it's end in the middle of the clearing, four large circles painted on it in red spray paint, the edges dripping and running down the bark slightly. A round circle close to the top, a larger oval in the middle and two thin ovals beneath. Like an old fashioned stick man.
Like a proverbial lamb to the slaughter, the 'man' had no chance, not with the amount of ordnance being aimed at it at that moment. It was however granted a reprieve as the armour piercing round impacted to the right of the log and a long way behind it.
"Your cold shot will always be a little bit wonky." Derek didn't bother to look up from his binoculars, "The temperature of the barrel is important, and you'll need to learn to adjust for it. But at least it gives you the opportunity to zero your scope. For now I'll let you try it your way, just adjust as you think you need to line up the scope with where the shot went."
John quickly glanced over at his uncle before returning his eye to the scope of Derek's Barrett M82 sniper rifle. "Since when did you get so professional?"
John and Derek had taken up a position on a nearby ridge after they'd set up the target area. When John had managed to drag Derek out of bed, not literally, Derek had decided that they needed to do something low energy for a change. His hangover and general lack of enthusiasm contributing to that somewhat.
John shifted his aim a tiny amount to the left, held in a breath and pulled the trigger. He watched through the scope as the shot whistled over the target and to the left, kicking up another puff of dirt.
"You can't adjust based on what it feels like where you're taking the shot." Derek sighed, his hangover causing a sharp pain behind his eyes every time the Barrett barked near his head, "Wind isn't constant, John. Just because it's blowing five miles an hour to the west up here, doesn't mean it is near the target. Watch the trees, the grass, see which way it's blowing, how far the limbs are bending. Then guesstimate."
"Guesstimate?" John chuckled, "You pick that one up from Jessica?"
Once again John adjusted his aim and focused on a clump of tall grass near the target, waiting for the wind to drop before he pulled the trigger.
"You can let me teach you this, or you can try to learn from Cameron." He smirked, trying to keep John off the touchy subject of the pissed off girlfriend he'd left alone in bed that morning, "She'll feed you equations until your head explodes."
"Good point." John waited for the reeds in his crosshairs to stop swaying before repeating the procedure he went through earlier, lining up his target, holding his breath and squeezing his right index finger. This time his depth was much better, although he still missed wide left.
Sighing, Derek decided his head needed a break from the constant barrage, so he sat up and leaned back against a tree beside him, "It's not just about learning to put the round on target, John. It's about knowing where to put the round in the target. Military snipers are trained for A-box shots - centre mass. But where do you target a T-600?"
John shrugged, well, as best he could while laying down, "Chest? Power Source? I dunno Derek, I'm here to learn these things."
"Chest armour is too thick to penetrate from this distance, the power source is the most heavily protected part of a terminator. Headshots can destroy the chip. If you're desperate, the hydraulics powering the joints will at least disable it." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hasn't your girlfriend covered any of this shit with you? What the hell do you two do all the time?"
John merely smirked and shuffled around so he could look at his uncle behind him with a 'you really wanna know?' look on his face.
"She has detailed information on all Skynet models - including weak spots. Hasn't it ever occurred to you to take advantage of that?" Derek asked, pointedly ignoring the look, and the thoughts it provoked.
John sighed and turned back to the scope. "It's just never really came up. I've asked her about the future...probably could've picked a better time to do it. But no, we've never gone in to stuff like this."
"You should. She wouldn't mind John, the information could save your life." Lifting his binoculars up to his eyes, he checked the bullet hole from John's last shot, growing increasingly tired of waiting for him to get it right. "Screw adjusting the scope. You missed two feet left, one foot high. So just aim the next one two feet right, one foot low."
John did exactly as instructed. Once again going through his pre shot routine, pulling the trigger…and watching the shot impact way off to the right and well short of the target. He glared back over his shoulder at the man slouched against the tree trunk. "Well that advice sucked."
Without warning, Derek shuffled over and snatched the rifle up out of John's hands, not even touching the scope. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his aim slightly to make up for John's shitty calibration, then squeezed the trigger, the upper part of the log representing the head exploding into mulch a moment later.
He handed the rifle off a moment later with a cocky smile, "Or maybe your shooting just sucks."
John merely stared at his uncle as he retreated to his position against the tree. He didn't like being shown up, and Derek's attitude was starting to grate on him. "What's gotten in to you this morning? You're even more surly than usual."
"What's gotten into me?" He glared, putting his sunglasses back on, "What's gotten into you? We had a fucking firefight last night. I was... relaxing. Don't I get days off?"
"Well soooorry for thinking about the future of humanity for a change. Isn't that what you're always trying to drill in to me all the time anyway?" John bit back.
Derek snorted at that, "Yeah, I'm sure that's why you dragged me out of a warm bed at six this morning."
"What's that supposed to mean" John asked, his voice sounding downright dangerous.
"You're the genius that saves the world," Derek continued glaring, "You figure it out."
John found himself getting instantly defensive, despite the fact that Derek hadn't said a word, "I told you to leave Cameron alone!"
"Is that what this is about John?" Of course Derek wasn't in the least intimidated by his nephew's little hissy fits, "Your relationship is fucked up so you're gonna try to make me as miserable as you?"
John growled and turned back to the rifle, realising his slip. He fired wherever the hell he thought might be close, wasting another expensive round in the process as the bullet flew way wide. "It's not like that."
"Then why do you seem to be purposefully trying to fuck up what I have with Jessica?" He tried so hard not to snort at John's attempt at shooting, in the end he failed miserably, "She doesn't know about this. I can't just keep disappearing at the drop of a hat."
"Then grow a pair and tell her what you really do. I'm sure she'll stick around once she knows all about us." He scoffed and shook his head, "After all, we all have to accept who we really are at some point." John really didn't want to have a fight, but Derek's shit mood and the reminder of his problems weren't really helping him in that regard. He found his emotions that he'd been neglecting lately swelling to the surface, threatening to boil over. All the things he had going on right now that he couldn't handle were affecting him more than he was willing to admit.
"I don't have to be anything, John. You need to remember that. There's another one of me out there who will be around to fight." Derek was really starting to wonder how John had never considered that before, "I'm only doing this because I care. Because I owe it to Kyle."
John rolled his eyes at the mention of Kyle. It was like the guy walked on water or something. "But I have to, right," He sighed and shook his head, "Look, what in the hell do I need to do to get better at this stuff? We've been doing this for what feels like forever and it just doesn't seem to be working...I have a lot of shit on my mind."
"See, that is your problem!" Derek stood up, brushing the leaves and dirt off his ass, "You expect this shit to just come to you. Because you're John fucking Connor you should just naturally be perfect at anything you try. It takes years to perfect this kind of thing!"
"I'm trying aren't I? I know all the basic stuff, mom taught me all that. I just don't know how to think and fight like...well, like you." John propped the rifle down on the ground, "I can't keep freezing up like that. Somebody is gonna get hurt because of me." He immediately clammed up as he felt a huge pang of guilt over Charley, replaying the moment he hit the dirt through his mind.
"Freezing up is safer than that shit you pulled last night." The older man shook his head, wondering just how John could be so dense, "You really have no idea the kind of fanatical devotion people have for you, do you? You think that's gonna change? If Connor goes running into the line of fire, every guy who sees it is going to try to get between you and danger!"
Again John was being told what he did was wrong. What, trying to save someone is wrong? "You want me to leave Charley out there to die? Would people follow my lead if I did that all the time too?"
Derek couldn't help but feel a pang of his own, "Some day John... you'll have to send your own father to die. You'd best get your mind around losing people."
John stayed silent for a long minute or so, eventually he looked up and out towards the target. "We can't just keep going like this then can we. Something's gotta change."
"You have to change." Derek rubbed his face wearily, "Being John Connor is like standing at a track switch while two trains come barreling at each other. One carries ten people, one carries a hundred. You can derail the train with ten people, killing them, or you can let them smash into each other... and everyone dies."
John again stayed quiet for a while, "I need some time to sort my head out. I, I need to get away."
Derek visibly perked up at that, imagining being able to spend some time with Jessica, hopefully making up for all this, "I think that's a good idea. Why don't you and Cameron take a little vacation? Sarah will be pissed, but fuck it, she already is."
"I...I meant some time away from her, from mom. I can't think straight when I'm too busy worrying about...everything that's going on with them."
"Oh... oh hell no!" Derek protested, already getting worked up, "You want me to skip town with you? What the fuck John, you just said you weren't trying to fuck up my life!"
"I'm not. I'm just trying not to fuck up everybody else's by screwing everything up because I'm too worried about my mom getting sick and my girlfriend who I can't even bring myself to touch!" John took a deep breath, realising he'd just revealed pretty intimate details. But he didn't care in the slightest, it was nice to be able to vent once in a while, even if it was only to Derek.
Derek sighed tiredly, rubbing between his eyes. He was going to fight John on this tooth and nail, but... "God dammit. Why did you have to go and be all fucking honest with me?"
John got a half smile, "Because it's the only way you'd listen and understand. Please Derek, this is important."
"You realise that if I do this... If I do this, it's only because you finally fessed up like a man." He thought back to something John said earlier, "You really think she'd stay? If she knew?"
"Do you wanna try being honest for a change? Do you think she'd stay?"
"I think it scares her... my past." He answered, remembering back to their conversation in bed the night before, "And I don't know how to convince someone the world is going to end. Sarah tried that, remember? How'd it work out for her?"
"You'll have to tell her eventually. If you want her to live anyway." John said sadly, the spectre of a looming Judgement Day difficult to ignore.
"We should probably start a little smaller than that, don't you think?" He quirked a brow at John, "She wants to meet you guys. God knows why, but she does."
"When?" John asked, already turning back to the rifle.
Derek sensed he had more than a little leverage at that moment, "If I have to skip town for a while, I'd like to leave her happy rather than pissed off."
"Yeah, makes sense. I mean we wouldn't want her to think that..." He didn't get a chance to finish as Derek cut him off.
"Tonight." He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, and failing miserably, "I uh... might have let something slip I shouldn't have. I think it would help if she had something to take her mind off it."
"TONIGHT? Are you insane? Mom will freak. Hell, she might even try to kill the poor girl...God knows what Cameron will think." John's eyes flew wide, genuinely worried about this poor mystery girl who was about to have a very unpleasant experience with his family. Hell, they traumatised him sometimes, and he was used to them, loved them in fact.
"Oh come on, John. Don't you think you're overreacting just a little?" He sighed, "Sure, Sarah will be pissed, but again, what else is new? And you can keep Cameron from doing anything too aggressive. Remember, I already had Amy check her out, she's clean!"
John eyed his uncle, pretty certain he'd blown a gasket. "Whatever, I'm just not gonna be held responsible for anything that might happen. It could end up scarring her for life."
"Like any dinner with us might not do that?"
John smirked a little while shaking his head. Laying back down, he picked up the rifle, took aim and fired, hitting the target square in the 'chest'. "Hey, I'm getting better!"
"Yeah." Derek could at least give him that much, he smiled, "Another few weeks you might be ready to miss moving targets instead of stationary ones."
Damn, missed my deadline of a pre-superbowl post by about 3 minutes :(
Because of that this is barely proofread. Please be understanding until I can go over it properly and correct any mistakes.
Thanks as always to Dekardkain for his help, hopefully a new chapter of Becoming John Connor should be ready soon barring anything major happening. At least, I hope it will!