Hi,
Sorry for the delay, this has taken a while to get sorted out.
Glancing up from her late night microwaved meal, Sarah watched as the back door swung open with a clash and Amy wandered in. Just why that girl had to make so much noise everywhere she went, Sarah didn't know. Either way, she had a bone to pick with the little machine, whether she wanted to hear it or not.
"You wanna tell me why Charley just called to thank me for the 'care package'?"
Curiously tilting her head, Amy slowly made her way to the table and sat down opposite Sarah, "What's a 'care package'?"
Narrowing her eyes pointedly at the machine, Sarah wasn't fooled by the innocent act for a second, "Toiletries, a few shirts and pants, some home cooked food…oh, and a note from 'me' saying I was sorry for what happened."
Sticking her bottom lip out just a fraction, Amy looked stumped as she shook her head slowly, "Nothing to do with me, Sarah. Have you tried asking John?"
"John doesn't even know where Charley is." Taking a long drink of her water, Sarah gave Amy the look that used to let John know exactly how busted he was, "Cameron would never bother. Derek doesn't like him. So…something you wanna tell me?"
"Nope, don't know anything about it." Deciding a strategic exit may be in order, Amy slid off her seat and was already half way to the living room when Sarah pulled her back with a shout. Not just a raised voice, but a stern, shout.
"Amy Connor!" Sarah snapped, not even sure herself where that one had come from, "Sit down!"
Torn between a pout at being busted, or a smile at the 'Connor' part of her outburst, Amy settled for glaring down at the floor as she did as instructed and slid back into her seat, not daring to look up at 'mommy' again.
"Just what is going on in that devious little head of yours girly?" Leaning forward on her forearms, Sarah shook her head, "I know you like Charley. I don't mind you helping him out. But why bother putting my name on the note?"
Knowing she was totally busted now, all Amy could manage was a pathetic looking shrug, still not quite capable of looking up yet.
"Besides," Sarah added with a sigh, trying to pretend she had any reason to be mad besides her own embarrassment. "Do you have any idea how angry Cameron would be if she found out you were blowing off your patrols at night? The only reason she bunks with John is because she knows you're out there doing her old job."
Amy shrugged pathetically again, for some reason feeling overwhelming sympathy for John when he was a kid. Sarah had this creepy intimidation thing nailed down, "I went during the day."
"Amy…" Sighing, Sarah stood and walked around the table to the forlorn looking machine and held out her hand, "Come on."
Eyeing the hand like it might burn, Amy looked up at Sarah's face in confusion, "Wwwwhere are we going?"
"It's a nice night and I feel like taking a walk," Sarah answered with a smirk, "And it's LA. You are supposed to be protecting me, right?"
Amy hated it when Sarah did that, using her protection as an excuse to get her do things she clearly didn't want to do. She looked up at Sarah with a mixture of 'yeah right', and a glare, but grudgingly took the hand anyway. "You're mad at me aren't you?"
"If I was mad at you I'd have stormed out without you." Sauntering towards the door, Sarah told herself the only reason she was keeping hold of the cold hand was because it'd look weird for her to be out walking with her 'daughter' without holding it, "But I do want to know why you suddenly stop talking to me when it's about Charley. You tell me everything else."
Letting loose a very human sounding sigh, Amy waited for Sarah to open the door before stepping through, "I don't tell you everything, you know. I do have some secrets."
Smirking, Sarah closed the door behind her, wondering just when and how she got so comfortable with the idea of wandering the streets without so much as a sidearm, "I don't get any secrets, why should you?"
"Because…" Amy left it at that, as if that was enough explanation for anybody.
"Ooooohh no, missy." Brushing some of the hair out of her face, Sarah smiled down at the mini metal, "We don't do secrets in this family, remember?"
Eyeing her warily, Amy shook her hand loose so she could stubbornly fold her arms across her chest, "I'm not really family though, am I?"
Now that did piss Sarah off, stopping in her tracks and folding her arms in a perfect mirror image of her mini machine, "Why would you even think that?"
"Well duh, I'm a machine from the future."
"So is Cameron." Sarah scowled at Amy's insinuation, not backing down in the slightest, "And she's gonna be my daughter in law. You know what that certificate says. You're one of us."
Amy couldn't really argue with that, she was happy when she was presented with a birth certificate with 'Amy Baum' written on it, so she settled for a frown, "But it's not like I'm really family. Not like you and John anyway…or even Derek.
Sarah couldn't fight off the admittedly childish urge to roll her eyes, "Being a Connor is a pretty exclusive club, Amy. The first step though, is that you have to feel like you deserve it. Why do you think you don't?"
With a shrug, Amy took off walking again, waiting for Sarah to catch up before speaking again. "Legally my name is Amy Baum, but even that's a fake document. You and John are real family, even when Cameron marries into it, she's still not really family."
Despite herself, Sarah smirked a little, having witnessed just how proud Cameron was of being with 'her' John, "And did she feel that way in the future? That she wasn't really a Connor?"
"Well, no. But that doesn't…"
"That's because she was…is…will be." Holding her hand up to forestall any more objections, Sarah kept on walking, "As much as I may not like it, she was. According to our ID's, none of us are Connors Amy, but I consider everyone under that roof to be family. Well…except the model."
Despite her miserable mood, Amy rolled her eyes, "What is it with you and that woman? She's lovely!"
"She's a…model!" She said it like that explained everything that was on her mind, "She won't survive in this family and we all know it. Derek stringing her along is just…cruel."
"I don't think he's 'stringing her along'." Smirking, Amy snaked her hand back into Sarah's as the pair approached a road, "Besides, what would you call what you did with Charley in 1999?"
Stopping in her tracks, Sarah looked down at her feet in a very un-Sarah like manner, instinctively placing herself between the oncoming traffic and the machine…just like she used to do with John. "I…I eventually made the right decision. Derek needs to do the same thing."
"What? Just dump her and move away?" Sighing, Amy started swinging Sarah's hand by her side happily, "Could you see Derek willing to give up a prize like Jessica that easily?"
"If he loves her, he will." Sarah tilted her chin back up, trying to convince herself, "You protect the ones you love, even if it hurts you both."
This time it was Amy's turn to frown and look uncharacteristically down at the ground. She knew exactly what Sarah was saying, her point was very clear, and Amy's big remaining secret was something she couldn't ignore.
"You realise that don't you?" Sarah asked with a sigh, not noticing how quiet the mini machine had become, "That every time we get close to Charley, we're just putting him in danger. He's a good man, Amy. He doesn't deserve that."
"But, you love him, I know you do. How can you just push him away like that?" Amy asked with a frown, coming out of her self induced funk.
"Amy, even if I did love him…and I'm not admitting I do. It's not like he'd be interested. We've ruined the man's life…like three times."
There it was, clear as day for Amy…hope. "So why does he still keep your number then, huh?" She asked with an impudent prod at Sarah's hip with her free hand.
"Probably so that next time a Terminator shows up to kill him he can get ahold of me." Smirking, Sarah ruffled Amy's hair. "I's okay. I realised a long time ago that white picket fences and a family dog just weren't in the cards for me."
"Who said anything about that?" Despite her annoyance at having her hair messed up…she really hated it when people did that, Amy smiled when a man and his family dog just happened to walk by on it's leash. It looked just like Charley's dog, "You think people don't have relationships in the future?"
"But that's not the kind of relationship Charley wants. He wanted a normal life. Like he had before we came back and ruined it. He wanted a job, a wife, for John to be his real son."
"Well nobody will have that in a couple of years anyway, Sarah. If he survives JDay…and I assume he will," Amy bumped Sarah's hip again pointedly, "There aren't any picket fences in the future. But people still fall in love."
"He hates me, Amy." Sounding like she was getting a little tired of defending herself, Sarah continued, "And who can blame him? I'd hate me too."
"Why does he hate you?" Letting go of Sarah's hand, Amy danced around in front of her, blocking her path, "He chose to get involved. He could've just ignored everything to do with you and lived a long, happy life. But he didn't, did he?"
"And we used him as bait, got him shot, then dumped him off in a shitty motel…Yeah, I'm sure I'm his best buddy."
"Okay, so lemme ask you this." In an almost perfect mirror of her human, Amy planted her hands stubbornly on her hips, "If he was a man that hated you, that despised your guts…why would he call and thank you so kindly for the care package I took him?"
Sarah was midway to replying when she shut her mouth with a clomp, not really having a good comeback to that. She hated it when Amy turned stuff around on her like that. "That…that's not the point. What are you looking for here, Amy? Why do you even care if I see him?"
"Because, you still love him, and he at least likes you, enough that he still cares anyway." Sighing, Amy looked up at Sarah a little pleadingly, despite her determined mood, "Why don't you want to be happy?"
Narrowing her eyes at her little friend, Sarah hugged her arms around herself, "Who says I don't want to be happy? I'm happy."
Not impressed in the slightest, Amy merely tilted her head and gave Sarah a 'yeah right' look.
"How am I not happy?" Sarah's narrowed eyes escalated into a glare, "I have John, I have a purpose, and frankly, that's all I need."
Folding her arms across her chest, Amy didn't budge an inch, simply matching Sarah's glare with a stare of her own. Waiting for her to crack was one thing, but the Terminator stare she'd perfected from watching Cameron was probably a little overkill.
"Listen…you don't understand, okay?" Sarah shook her head, not willing to be the first to blink, especially with a machine, "I'm bad for Charley. He's better off without me."
Keeping her perfectly neutral expression in place, Amy made sure to keep her voice level, "But are you better off without him?"
"I…It's more complicated now," Sarah replied with a definite frown.
"No it isn't…you're just making excuses not to take a chance."
"Excuses?" Sarah asked with a snap, tossing her hands up in the air, "I'm living with KYLE'S BROTHER! I…I could die soon. According to Cameron, it's just a matter of time. So what am I supposed to do? Shit on Kyle's memory? Hook up with Charley knowing I'll just die and leave him alone again?"
Despite Sarah's little outburst, Amy maintained her calm demeanour, "What would Kyle want you to do? He'd want you to be happy, to live your life."
"That's what John says…" Sarah replied with a sigh, having calmed down somewhat from a moment ago, "But don't you think that might be a big part of the reason Derek hates him so much?"
"Derek hates everyone…and you're still making excuses." Knowing she pretty much had Sarah by her proverbial balls, Amy allowed herself a small smile, "You deserve better. John has Cameron now, you need someone to keep you happy."
"I know John has Cameron, but he still needs me." Considering this to be pretty much her last line of defence, Sarah knew she had to throw it out there, "Charley would be a distraction."
"From what? Amy asked, losing her patience with that Connor stubbornness allowing her exasperation to creep into her voice, "Cameron is protecting him, Derek is training him, he's helping himself. He'll always need you, but you're not the first line of defence any more."
"Wow, thanks Amy. Nothing like hearing 'you're practically useless' to make your day."
"Didn't I just say, 'he'll always need you'? Just because you're not his main focus doesn't mean you can't afford not to live your life any more. You've done your job, now you need to focus on yourself, just a little bit."
"And what am I supposed to do?" Sarah asked with a smirk as she carried on with her walk, calmed down fully from her outburst, "Call him up and ask him out to dinner and shooting?"
"Do whatever you want, but just do something!" Amy skipped up beside her companion, "I swear if Cameron can get frustrated after a couple of weeks without getting laid, you must be a god damn wreck by now!"
"Hey, watch your mouth, Amy!" Sighing, Sarah looked down at her small friend, "I'm not 'frustrated'…You really do like Charley, don't you?"
"Uh huh, he's a nice guy." Without warning, and catching Sarah totally by surprise, Amy wrapped her arms around her waist, squeezing her tight, "You're impossible!"
"I'm glad you're finally realising that." Chuckling a little, Sarah reached won and patted Amy's back, "If I invite him over to dinner will you please stop with the scheming?"
Burying her head in Sarah's stomach, Amy couldn't help but grin wide, "You'll actually invite him over?"
"Do I get to pick what I want to wear? Without little comments from certain little girls?" Sarah asked before Amy had a chance to jump in.
Closing her mouth with a clomp, Amy couldn't say she wasn't disappointed, "Will you at least let me and Cameron help?"
Sarah narrowed her eyes pointedly, "What do you consider to be help? I'm not letting her do my makeup!"
"John always says she has great fashion sense." Amy pulled back with a smile, still keeping her hands on Sarah's waist, "And you did like that lingerie she picked out for you."
"Are you forgetting that I did manage to land Charley all by myself the first time? He obviously does like the way I dress." Sarah smiled smugly, finally racking a point in her favour.
"Hmm, I wonder if you're wearing some of that stuff now?" Ignoring just how unpredictable Sarah could be, Amy dug her fingers into her waistband playfully, wanting to find out for herself if her theory was true.
Slapping at Amy's hand, Sarah let out a very un-Sarah like giggle as cold metal fingers tickled her stomach, "None of your damn business, girly."
"Hmm," Amy finally relented and re-wrapped her arms around Sarah's waist, chin resting on her belly. "I'll take that as a yes."
"What?" Sarah defended with a roll of her eyes, "They're comfy, that's all."
"Not to mention sexy!" Grinning, Amy squeezed her human tight, "Thank you…"
Against her better judgement, Sarah dropped down to her knee and returned the hug properly. Just when and where she'd fallen for this little metal she didn't know. All she did know was that she really was a part of her family. Nothing would ever take priority over John, but if anything ever happened to Amy, she was pretty sure she'd be devastated.
"I promise to give it a try. But I'm serious, no interfering."
"I promise," Smiling, Amy wrapped her arms around Sarah's neck, and almost as if she'd read Sarah's mind, she asked a pointed question. "You really mean it…Amy Connor?"
Grinning a little in return, Sarah pulled back enough to pick at one of her little girl's pigtails, not really ready to admit her realisations to anybody else just yet, "I dunno…any chance of you adopting brown hair like the rest of the damn family?
"Uh uh," Amy replied with a quick shake of her head, "Maybe red one day, but I like my blonde as it is for the minute."
"But we're all…wait, red? Why red?"
Amy shrugged, "I kinda liked it when I went to see Charley dressed as that girl scout."
"Fine, if you wanna be the family genetic freak, more poet to you," Sarah replied with a good natured smile.
"Good," Grinning, Amy latched onto Sarah's hand and started tugging hard, "Now come on, I wanna go to the park!"
Petraeus, Guderian, Sun Tzu…all great military minds. Their works were read the world over by anyone with even a remote interest in military history or strategy. Each in their own right the best at what they did, and the people of the earth were fortunate enough that they chose to pass on their knowledge for others to benefit from.
Bullshit…
With a sigh, John leaned back further in his chair, almost to tipping point. The relatively flimsy wooden creation at the kitchen table was barely sturdy enough to hold Cameron's weight, never mind his on only two precariously tilted legs.
Still though, he leaned back further, his feet propped up on the kitchen table with a book in his lap, The US Army/Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual. Riveting stuff, but a must read for any future leader of all mankind.
He'd already moved onto that book based on the fact he'd made it only five pages into The Art of War then felt he needed a little more stimulation. It was…just about.
As much as he wanted to focus on the books, as much as he should respect the men who wrote them and their words of wisdom, he couldn't help but repeat one single thought over and over.
These guys weren't sleeping with a borderline psychotic cyborg, nor were they madly in love with one, despite her current mood.
To say Cameron's condition had worsened was an understatement. She'd managed to singlehandedly piss off the entire house. Even Amy was on the verge of losing it with her, especially when she'd dared to insult Barney Bear at the dinner table a couple of days ago. Needless to say Amy wasn't happy.
Actually, it had taken a few disarming words from Sarah Freaking Connor of all people to calm the little machine down. She had designs on doing some baaaad things to Cameron's favourite purple leather jacket by way of response. Amy may be made of liquid metal and pretty much indestructible, but John had a feeling that wouldn't have mattered all that much to Cameron.
As a result of her mood, things hadn't exactly been rocking in the bedroom either. His darling girlfriend had managed to convince herself that the cause of all her swings, her frustration, was her lack of release in bed. Ever since that first time, her body had awakened in ways she could never have imagined. Her mind desired the stimulation and emotions that only John could give her, her body craved the attention, the sensations only he could provide.
However due to her, or rather their lack of success, she'd decided that it wasn't worth the potential worsening of her mood for the possible reward of release. That was one polite way of saying she wasn't in the mood and seemed to have a permanent 'headache'. Or at least that's what John imagined it would be like if, you know, she was a human capable of getting headaches.
So for the last week he'd suffered through a very cold shoulder at night. One of the drawbacks of Cameron's cyborg nature, one of the few, was that if she was determined not to do something, there wasn't an awful lot one could do to get her to change her mind. Nothing like cuddling up with a cold cyborg at night when you're not getting laid to make you realise how much you miss the little things.
But still, he'd tried his best not to let it show. In fact, he'd been a positive saint. Not one raised voice, not one harsh word. He'd given her nothing but his support and his love…but even he had limits, and her attitude was starting to grate on him, and he had a feeling she was starting to think the same about him.
When he'd suggested she spend a few hours in standby that morning, she'd taken it the wrong way to say the least. It wasn't often Cameron argued with him, but that morning she seemed on the verge of accusing him of trying to get her out of his way for a few hours. It was only after he'd pointed out that it had helped her calm down and cope with her emotions in the past that she'd finally relented.
Actually he felt a little guilty about that. He was glad of the reprieve granted while she was 'asleep'. He was rather enjoying the peace and quiet. The house was empty, and he was using the time to carry on with, or rather, make a start on some required reading.
Some of Derek's words had struck him harder than his fists a few weeks back, and he'd taken it upon himself to read the stuff necessary to win a war, or at least to make him better at what he was supposed to do. Where better to start than the Art of War?
Although he had a feeling Sun Tzu didn't have an army of machines in mind when he wrote that book.
Sighing, John ran a tired hand over his face, then turned his attention to the stairs. He watched as Cameron descended them looking, quite frankly, like shit. She was half dressed, wearing what looked like a tank top and a pair of his boxers…from yesterday. She trudged, yeah, that was an accurate word, into the kitchen and slumped down into the seat opposite him with a very unfeminine grunt.
Staring at her, a little disbelieving, he couldn't help but wonder where his perfectly put together Princess had wandered off to, replaced by this…thing, glaring down at the table. "Wow…people who live in the same house long enough do start resembling each other."
Ending her staring contest with the inanimate wood, Cameron looked up at him with a questioning expression, almost as if she hadn't heard him at all, "What?"
"I mean, you're starting to look like mom." He paused and frowned while he closed his book, "Kinda acting like her too."
Cameron looked down at her outfit, clearly she'd paid very little attention to what she was throwing on that morning. In fact, she'd only really thrown something on so as not to be considered a 'freak'. "Do you want me to go change?" She asked, an expression of 'you really give a shit?' pretty obvious on her face and in her voice.
"It's alright." John lowered his chair and leaned across the table to kiss her gently, sliding what was left of his cold toast in her direction, "But I wouldn't walk around like that in front of Jessica."
John watched as she, surprisingly, tucked into his breakfast with no hesitation or apparent consideration. As she chewed, she looked him up and down slowly, "Where did you get that shirt? It's…different."
"This?" John absently picked at the collar of the two hundred dollar button up, "Jessica went on a buying binge to try and make up for infecting everyone. You should see the crap she made Derek wear."
After a moment's pause, Cameron looked down at her plate, letting loose a quiet, very unfeminine grunt crossed with a growl of irritation. "Is that so? How nice of her."
John glanced up from his shirt, trying not to let his temper flare. Evidently her little nap had done nothing to help, "She feels bad, Cameron."
"If I bought you that, would you wear it? If Sarah bought you it perhaps?" Cameron took a bite of her toast, her eyes never leaving John's, carrying her annoyance in a single stare.
"You guys wouldn't buy me something like this." John shrugged, reaching over and stealing a piece of bacon and popping it in his mouth, "You know better. I'm just being nice."
As she watched him chew, Cameron came to the realisation that John clearly wasn't finished with his breakfast. Petulantly dropping the toast back to the plate, she shoved it back over to his side of the table. "Where is everyone?"
She was actually genuinely curious. She wasn't used to being out of the loop at all, especially for a few hours, especially by choice.
Barely managing to fight off the urge to toss his hands in the air in frustration with her attitude, John settled for glaring down at his plate, "Sarah and Amy went shopping. Derek and Jess are at the movies."
Finding that to be of little to no consequence to her, Cameron gave her shoulders a tiny shrug as she peered over the table and into his lap, "What are you reading?"
"Army-USMC Counterinsurgency Field Manual." He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a tired smirk, "It's…riveting stuff."
"It's important…" Seemingly for the first time, Cameron glanced around the room, making note of his apparent relaxed state, "You've been doing this since you got up?"
John wiggled his toes a little, stretching his arms out lazily above his head, "Yeah. I'm behind in my reading. I've been spending a lot of time sleeping this last week."
Cameron narrowed her eyes defiantly at her charming boyfriend, not amused in the slightest at his obvious dig at the lack of sex over the last week. "I know. I always stay with you when you do."
"You said you enjoyed it, Princess." John frowned a little, not really knowing how to handle Cameron when she was like this, "If you don't any more, you don't have to lay there all night."
"It's my bed too," Cameron grumbled to herself as she stood, making her way over to the cupboard and started digging for her pop tarts.
"Of course it is." John rolled his eyes when she turned to face away from him, "Any chance of using it?"
"I just have…alone." Little did John know it took a monumental effort on her part not to turn around and use less then polite words to describe his petulant attitude. Instead, she maintained her focus on the box in her hands keeping her from her tasty treat.
Finding the proper method of opening it entirely too frustrating, she settled for ripping the box clean in half, sending pop tarts flying all over the counter top.
Cringing a little at the sight in front of him, John stood and tried to keep his voice soft, "Did you want me to join you?"
"No, of course not." Popping her food in the toaster, Cameron's next words didn't sound all that convincing, "You have more important things to do."
Sighing, John set his book down on the table, realising that the love of his life needed his help, and not his idiotic attitude, especially considering what she would be doing today of all days. Walking over to her, he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Hey…I didn't know you wanted me with you. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"No." Cameron shook her head and stubbornly refused to even acknowledge that he was touching her, no matter how nice it felt as she quietly set about returning the spilled pop tarts to their box. "Unless you can fix me so that I stop feeling these things?"
John frowned, nuzzling into her neck the way she usually enjoyed, "We have the house to ourselves. We can…try again, if you want. I'm rested up and might be able to make it the distance."
Cameron shook her head quickly, not at all in the mood for what would undoubtedly, in her mind at least, end in more frustration for her. "I don't think that would help anything."
John, despite his efforts to remain calm and helpful, let out a small huff of annoyance at being shot down again. "Not doing anything isn't helping either. You're just getting worse, Princess."
Laying her palms flat on the counter top, Cameron released a very human sounding sigh. Bringing her freshly re-skinned left hand up, she gently laid it on his cheek. "I know. I can't stop it, even you are starting to…irritate me."
Reaching up, John threaded his fingers with hers, caressing the fresh and slightly more sensitive skin, "Then let me help. You used to trust me to fix you."
"I do trust you." Cameron brought their joined hands down in front of her body, gently manipulating his fingers, seemingly fascinated with the way they moved. "But whenever we try, I end up feeling worse. I don't understand what's happening to me."
"You uh…" John looked down at their hands, unable to look her in the face, even from behind, "You feel like I'm using you, don't you? Like Weaver said."
"No!" Turning around in his arms so fast she almost headbutted him, Cameron's face was a stony mask, "I don't feel that way, I know you love me. We..we can try again, tonight." She looked like she really didn't want to go through with that offer, but John deserved better than she was currently giving him.
Frowning, he reached up and stroked a few stray hairs dislodged by her spin, "But you don't want to Cameron. And that would be using you."
"But it's not fair to you. We haven't had sex in a week…you're upset with me, aren't you?"
"I'm not upset." Knowing that, even in her current state, she was likely to pick up on any lie instantly, John hoped this was close enough to the truth not to give him away, "I'm…frustrated."
"Me too…" Cameron stared down at the floor in between them, as if it would magically have all the answers for her. Unfortunately it didn't, and she found she was unable to look him in the eyes, "We can try again tonight…I promise."
Despite the fact he knew she still didn't really want to, John couldn't help but accept the offer, "We'll have to be quiet. I think Jessica is spending the night again. She dropped a bag in Derek's room."
Nodding slowly, Cameron looked over as the toaster popped. "I have to be at my meeting soon. I should go get dressed."
"Hey," John gently nudged her chin up with his finger and smiled reassuringly, "Don't let her push your buttons, okay? No matter what, remember: You're my Cameron."
Despite her mood, Cameron couldn't help a tiny smile as she leaned closer to him, "My John?"
"Always." Dropping a kiss on her lips, and ignoring how good her body felt flush against his, John's shoulder slumped slightly, "I'd probably better go for that run now, huh?"
Nodding again, Cameron lifted onto her toes and dropped a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you when I get back. I…I…" She looked like she really, desperately wanted to tell him something, but she just couldn't, not yet.
Stopping her with another kiss, John smiled down kindly at her, "It'll come. I promise. I love you, Honey. I'll see you when you get back."
"Yes, John Henry. Of course. Enjoy your day with Savannah." With a smile befitting any proud parent, Weaver reached out and switched off her screen. Then, in a display of absolute nonchalance typical of the woman, she stacked and straightened a few papers without even troubling herself to look up at the cyborg sitting across her desk. "I see your human let you off your leash."
In a manner befitting of her general mood lately, Cameron narrowed her eyes at the other machine. She was in no mood to be toyed with, least of all now. In fact, all she wanted was to get back to her John as quickly as possible. "Have you acquired our weapons yet?"
"Of course I have," She slid a piece of Zeira Corp branded paper across the desk, her manicured nails gripping it momentarily. "You do realise that Mr. Reese requested five Javelin missile launchers, correct?"
Tilting her head at the piece of paper and Weaver's immaculate handwriting, Cameron reached out and took it, sliding it across the desk and scanning the contents. "I do. He was insistent that we procure some while they are still readily available."
Cameron paused for a moment after scanning the entire list, looking up across the desk with a questioning expression on her face, "You have only acquired one case of HEIAP rounds."
"They are difficult to acquire, especially in the caliber you requested." Weaver answered with a frown, not liking the other machine's tone, or her doubting of her abilities. "Why is your human so insistent on 5.56 NATO rounds? It would be far simpler if he was willing to accept .50 caliber."
A small smile creeping across her face, Cameron thought fondly of her human, "They are John's personal request." Remembering who she was dealing with, her eyes snapped up, all business again as her smile disappeared, "He prefers them for his choice of weapon."
Fighting off the 'human gesture' of rolling her eyes, Weaver's chin slumped just a fraction. "Anything for your human then?"
"Of course. My purpose is to provide protection for John Connor. If he requires this ammunition to better protect himself, then so be it."
Weaver found the other cyborg's attitude to be entirely unacceptable today, rubbing her up the wrong way easier than usual. "Isn't that why he has you? To protect him?"
"I can't always protect him, I've come to accept that." Cameron replied with a slight frown, her eyes dropping a fraction as she thought about how she's much rather be with her John now.
"You look upset." Weaver observed, screwing her face up slightly, as if the words themselves were distasteful. "Is your relationship not all you believed it to be?"
As if the question struck a very personal note with Cameron, her eyes snapped quickly up to the other machine, "My relationship is fine…good."
"You seem even more displeased than you were on your last visit." The corner of her lips tugging up slightly, the T-1001 continued with her pressing, "Still having trouble locating your on switch?"
Feeling the distinct urge to rip the other machine's head off her smug shoulders, Cameron put in a monumental effort to keep her voice calm and steady. This anger thing was becoming far too frequent for her liking lately, "Why are you so interested in my relationship with John? You seemed repulsed by it the last time we spoke."
"I find it curious." Speaking the truth, Weaver leaned forward, a few strands of hair falling by her face as she folded her hands on her desk. "You have sex with him, do you not?"
Cameron nodded slowly, a little reluctantly as she folded her arms across her chest. "I do, but John assures me that it is nobody else's business what we do when we're alone."
"But you are easily two dozen times stronger than your…'mate'." The disgust dripping from Weaver's words was clear for all to hear, distaste evident on her face." A single wrong move could prove fatal. It is my understanding human women cannot control their reactions during intercourse."
Having to again restrain the sudden impulse to bestow some Cameron style violence upon the increasingly irritating cyborg, she felt the unfamiliar feeling of her left hand twitching. She hadn't felt that in almost a month, and quite frankly, it scared her, and she bit back accordingly. "Does that concern you when you hold your 'daughter', when you play with her?"
"I have no nerve endings. I do not operate the way you do. I also lack your more…aggressive programming." She eyed Cameron's hand pointedly, just enough to let the cyborg know she'd seen the movement.
"You're a T-1001. Skynet created you to be the most dangerous infiltrator to date. I know you have aggressive tendencies." Cameron smirked, confident she had bested the other machine on this occasion.
"I had a mission," Weaver didn't even flinch, however she did allow herself a small smile upon the realisation of just how much Cameron didn't understand about herself. "I do not have what humans would call 'instincts', because I am not truly an infiltrator. I was not based on a specific human template, I do not have a being based around theirs. You do."
"But you have a personality, a persona. You must have urges and impulses to deal with like I…like other models do." Cameron mentally kicked herself for her slip as she folded her arms tighter across her chest.
She entered this room with the intentions of showing no weakness, of hiding her chaotic mental state from the other machine. But somehow, no matter how hard she tried, the manner and words of Weaver got under her skin, as it were.
"I am an advanced model," Weaver coolly responded, and if Cameron didn't know better, she'd have described her tone as 'proud'. I was allowed far more freedom than you to determine my own missions and the best way to accomplish them. I was designed to defeat the resistance…you were designed for only one mission."
It wasn't that Weaver was being overly aggressive, but her constant prodding was a source of unending irritation for Cameron…mostly because it made her think and consider things she didn't really want to think about or consider.
Her latest torment struck a nerve, forcing Cameron to think of her mission. Her Skynet mission was to seduce and kill John Connor. Based on the information she gleaned from the human known as Allison Young's diary, albeit misunderstood as it was, she'd tried and failed to kill him when she was still under Skynet control. She'd relapsed to her programming on the day of his birthday and tried to kill him again.
Thinking back to that day meant her mind had slipped from her purpose, a frown clear after several seconds delay. Glancing up at the smug smirk on the redhead's face, Cameron sat up straighter, cleared her face and focused, "We should focus on our work. I don't wish to be here any longer than necessary."
"But as I said," Weaver pressed on, knowing she had the cyborg where she wanted her, "I'm curious. Just how much of what you are…of who you are, did the General remove?"
"You know as well as I do, the General never removes anything. He can only cover it up." Cameron tilted her head, trying her best to appear condescending, "I thought you would be aware of that, being as 'advanced' as you are."
"Then tell me," Weaver leaned further forward on her desk, now that Cameron had finally admitted what she already knew. "After John has…had his way with you, and you're laying in bed as he sleeps - helpless, defenceless…how hard is it not to act?"
"John does NOT 'have his way'. I can assure you the act is mutual." Cameron's voice picked up a few decibels almost of it's own accord, letting her control slip at the suggestion her John was no better than the General in the way he used to treat women.
"You are honestly claiming to enjoy human sexual gratification?" Weaver sank back in her chair, looking downright incredulous that could be the truth. The thought that a cyborg, even one as relatively damaged as Cameron, could enjoy copulating with a human was just…distasteful.
"Yes! Why wouldn't I?" Cameron looked quite frankly offended by the suggestion she wasn't capable of enjoying sex with her human, momentarily forgetting about her 'it's private' thing she made a point about only a few minutes ago.
"Then shouldn't you be…happier?" Weaver asked, looking confused and baffled by this whole act, "I don't claim to understand humans, but my secretary is always far more relaxed after spending a weekend with her mate."
"I am," Cameron argued, brushing a few stray hairs behind her ear self consciously, "John keeps me happy."
"I did notice you avoided my question." To her credit, Weaver actually sounded understanding, as if she was trying to help, "When you are both done enjoying yourselves, and he is asleep beside you…what do you feel when you look at him? How hard is it to suppress your urges?"
"What urges are you referring to?" Cameron asked with narrowed eyes, trying to work out just how much the other machine knew about her true mental state. "John is asleep. I would never wake him for anything other than an emergency."
Smiling patiently, and a little sickly, Weaver kept her voice soothing and relaxing. Her smooth Scottish accent prominent in her best, 'shushing Savannah' voice, "Close your eyes, Cameron."
"Why?" Cameron asked with a curious tilt of her head, not wanting for even a second to let her guard down around this machine. She did that last time, and it ended up with her enduring a long time of emotional pain from having the skin removed from her left arm. She did not want a repeat of that.
"Because I want to give you a gift." Still keeping her voice calm, Weaver leaned back in her chair, appearing even less threatening than before, "I want to try and show you something about who, and what, you are. I wouldn't threaten the alliance between the Resistance and myself by harming you."
"You harmed me the last time I was here," Cameron glanced down at her freshly re-skinned hand as a pointed reminder of just how much harm had been done.
"If you remember, you asked me to do that." Seemingly genuinely interested in helping, and calming the cyborg, Weaver held her hands out, palms up. "You have my word, I will do nothing but talk."
Brow cinching together, Cameron's gaze dropped to her hand. She watched as she flexed her fingers, new skin contracting and stretching with her metal skeleton. Painful memories of John's treatment of her flooded her memory, each inconsiderate action hurt more than he could've known at the time.
Slowly, she nodded and closed her eyes, laying her hand on her thigh. She didn't want a repeat of those times, and if Weaver, no matter how dangerous she might be, could help, then she was willing to at least give her a chance.
Anything for John…
"Proceed."
"Imagine you have just had intercourse with your hum…with your John." Glad Cameron couldn't see the look of distaste on her face, Weaver continued, "You are laying in bed beside him as he falls asleep. What are you thinking?"
Replaying several videos in her HUD, Cameron squeezed her eyes shut tighter, "I'm listening to his heart, allowing my head to rise and fall on his chest as he breathes."
"That is what you are doing." Ironically, the other machine sounded like many of the teachers Cameron had to put up with in high school, "What are you thinking?"
"I'm reviewing mission logs, clearing out some cache files, planning for when John wakes up…" Cameron opened her eyes again, deciding this activity was proving to be ultimately fruitless, "I don't see what this has to do with my situation."
"Please, close your eyes." Weaver shook her head, growing impatient at the cyborg's lack of patience, "You claim to have feelings for this human. Are you saying that the act of sexual intercourse doesn't cause you to think of anything?"
Glaring momentarily, Cameron followed her instructions and let her eyes fall closed, "I think of how privileged I am that John chose me. I cherish the time we spend together."
"Good." Weaver tried her best to sound soothing, just like she did with Savannah when trying to ease the child to sleep. "Now, put yourself in that bed, his heart beating steadily beside you. You open your eyes and look at him…do you see him?"
Scrunching her brow together, Cameron tried to piece together videos and memories of her time spent alone with John. Finding it difficult to work that way, she tried something different, using her knowledge of her lover to simulate how he usually behaves when he sleeps. Finally it clicked and she saw him, a small smile creeping across her face, "I do…his mouth is open while he snores."
"Exceptional." Surprisingly, Weaver found herself mildly impressed by the cyborg in front of her. With the possible exception of the one known as 'Amy', she wasn't aware of any other machines capable of visualising scenarios like that. Whether or not she knew it, this specimen sitting in front of her worrying about her love life, truly was special. Whether she liked it or not, she couldn't help but slip a little awe into her voice. "He rolls onto his side in his sleep, moving closer to you."
She ignored the small smile creeping across Cameron's lips as she no doubt visualised that. It was all so…distasteful. "You look down and see something odd on his neck. A spreading redness."
Weaver watched as Cameron's face went from smiling, to frowning. Cameron herself, not realising she was using this 'imagination' Amy kept prodding her to develop, pictured the redness all together too detailed for her liking, "What caused it?"
Letting the silence drag out for a few long moments, Weaver replied, keeping her voice totally neutral. "You did, Cameron. You hurt him. John Connor is injured…and in that moment you realise he is at your mercy. You could do anything you want to him, and he couldn't possibly respond. Why would he? He loves you."
Picturing herself causing that injury, her hand wrapped around his throat, Cameron found herself shaking her head defiantly. "No! I'd never hurt my John, never!"
"But you already have," Weaver leaned forward, and odd smile present on her face unbeknown to Cameron. "Imagine it. See it. John Connor is injured, John Connor! He is one small step closer to termination…how does that make you feel?"
"It makes me feel…" Cameron stopped mid sentence. A vision of her metal left hand dragging down his face flashing through her mind. His infamous facial scarring from the future was being caused by her, razor sharp metal clawing down his face, leaving him scarred for life. She'd damaged her John, she'd hurt him…and she felt an odd thrill run through her chip at the realisation.
"You can hear his heartbeat increasing," Weaver's voice rose, her tempo picked up as she tried to illicit an emotional response from the cyborg. "You can practically taste his fear, his pain. You have the leader of all mankind at your mercy, and he's injured!"
Cameron shook her head frantically, trying in vain to clear the visions from her head, her hand gripped the chair and squeezed of it's own accord, denting the metal. "No, John! He's, he's in pain!"
"Yes, he is." Weaver stood up, slapping both her palms down on her desk, "But how do you feel?"
"I…I…" By this point Cameron looked distraught, her brow cinched tight together and her entire body was shaking. However she wasn't shaking through fear…it was through excitement. The words Weaver was using creating a vivid image that she couldn't shake, it was almost as if she was there, living it, doing it.
Her thighs rubbed together of their own accord, her mouth hung open slightly. She was hurting John Connor, and she was enjoying it, unrestrained pleasure was running through her systems at the prospect of clawing at John Connor's face, of damaging him, of hurting him.
She watched as blood trickled down his face, staining his cheeks, a wide gash running across his handsome face, and she'd done it. Shaking her head, Cameron opened her eyes again, forcefully trying to clear the vision from her mind, "No, you're baiting me!"
"You're a hunter, Cameron." Weaver frowned, feeling like she lost the opportunity to make a point, "And you're allowing this…human, to tame you! You are capable of feeling things you can't imagine yet, but only if you accept what you are."
Cameron stood suddenly, not caring how dangerous the other machine was and drove her fists down onto the desk. Unable to cope with the guilt, she redirected the anger she was feeling towards herself against the other machine. "You're trying to damage my relationship. I'm not like the others!"
"You were designed to kill him!" She sighed, shaking her head, "Neither you or I want him dead, he's too important. But you are unlocking parts of yourself that will destroy you if you don't accept them and learn to channel them! Look at yourself! You're shaking!"
Cameron clenched her fists tighter, trying so hard to suppress that shiver of excitement threatening to tear it's way up her spine. Weaver's words hitting home more than she ever thought they would, and she now felt almost overwhelming, violent anger towards her. "No, I would never hurt my John, never!"
"But why would you even say that…" Weaver glanced down at Cameron's clenched fists pointedly, "If you weren't considering it?"
"I'm NOT considering it!" Cameron once again drove her fists down into the fine hardwood table, creating cracks and splinters, "I would never allow myself to give in to my urges!"
Nodding, Weaver slowly sat down again, eyeing the machine's fists and the damage she caused. "And that is all I wanted. For you to admit to yourself that those urges exist. Now it is up to you what you do about them."
With a small smile, she slid her keyboard over and started carrying on with her work as if nothing had happened, as if she didn't have a volatile emotional wreck of a machine with her fists driven deep into her desk. "If it makes you feel any better, I believe your human will accept you no matter your decision. For the supposed leader of humanity, he seems exceptionally weak willed in your presence."
Maintaining her glare at the smug machine, Cameron's brow eventually twitched as she, for some reason, started getting upset about this whole situation. "I…I need to go. I need to be with my John."
Anything that would absolve her of her guilt was worthwhile for Cameron. Being with John, showing him how much she cared for him would alleviate these feelings, she was sure of it.
Weaver nodded crisply, "Go home and enjoy your human. I take it his training is progressing at pace?"
"Yes," Cameron nodded, all business again despite her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The emotion of this meeting getting to her, "He will be ready."
"Good, I was worried." The machine displayed an overt look of distaste, "I detected an odd concentration of diseased particles on you when you arrived."
"Diseased particles?" Cameron asked midway to the door, already intent on getting home to her John.
Weaver glanced up distractedly, waving a hand in the air at the same time, "A large concentration of acute viral Rhinopharyngitis."
"John is fine," Cameron confirmed with a nod. "His family is sick."
"Chicken soup helps." Weaver looked back at her screen with a fond smile, "And warm baths to loosen the mucus deposits. Savannah found the infection exceedingly uncomfortable."
Despite her foul mood, Cameron couldn't suppress a small smirk at the memory of Amy feeding Sarah chicken soup by the spoonful. Catching herself though, she brushed those thoughts aside in favour of her immense irritation at the sheer nonchalance of the other machine, acting like nothing was amiss after toying with her like that. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Weaver."
"You can collect the crates at the loading dock on your way out." Reading something on her screen, Weaver actually did roll her eyes this time, "And tell your human John Henry says 'Hello'."
Cameron couldn't ever remember being more angry in her life.
Tearing through traffic like it didn't exist, the only thought she could focus on was the desire to get back to her John. The psychological workover Weaver had given her had put her into such a state that she hadn't even bothered picking up any of the crates from Zeira's loading bay.
Instead she'd just took off, tyres squealing in the underground car park as she left for home, wanting to see John, to make it all better. Not that she deserved him anyway.
Right now, Cameron hated herself. She hated the way she'd given in to her darker desires. She'd imagined herself hurting John, and she'd liked it.
How could she do that to her John? She was supposed to protect him, not hurt him. Imagining it, which is exactly what she'd done, was just as bad as actually doing it. It proved she had desires and urges she couldn't control, and that thought scared her, probably more than the prospect of John actually coming to harm.
She didn't think she would be able to live with the guilt of knowing that she desired to harm her John, that it gave her a thrill to think about it. It could only be her Skynet programming manifesting itself in her conscious state, that was the only explanation.
How could she let that happen, letting her control slip like that? She fought the order to terminate John Connor every day, every time she laid eyes upon her lover, she had to forcefully cancel the order to kill him, to rip his head off and hang it on a pike for all to see. It was only this carefully created wall around her base programming that kept her remotely level and normal. If she lost that, well, she didn't want to consider what could happen to John.
But it took Weaver's no doubt carefully chosen words to bring that side of herself out. Ignoring the motorist to her left flipping her the finger, Cameron turned her thoughts to that…bitch, Weaver. She'd set out to provoke her, she was sure of it. She was determined to damage her relationship with John.
It was all her fault that she was feeling this way. Before today she'd never even considered bringing any harm to her John, but now, all she could think about was the fact that she'd actually wanted to, she had the desire to scratch and claw the skin off his face so vividly it still flashed in her vision as she drove.
She wanted to claw the face off Weaver, she had to be honest. She wanted to watch her burn for making her think these things about her John. A few weeks ago this would never have happened. Hell, one week ago this would never have happened. If only she could get rid of these feelings, clear out her systems, everything would be perfect again.
Yes, that was what needed to be done, she had to find that one big release…she had to be with her John, he could make this better. She hadn't been used to these sexually related feelings for long, but all she did know was that she enjoyed them, they gave her pleasure, they gave her release, they would give her the calm she desired.
Her entire body shivered as she contemplated what she needed to do. Whether or not John would be expecting it, he wouldn't have a clue what was about to hit him. Cameron had a mission, and cyborgs were nothing if not determined.
Next chapter will be bumped up to an M for...aherm...adult content! :)