1994
THINGS THAT DON'T CHANGE

John Connor is just shy of his ninth birthday when he gets his first mugshot taken. Trespassing. He's only been away from his mom for a few weeks, but he's over it. Her. Suburbia. All of it. He smiles for the camera, because he's heard you're not supposed to. It gets the officer looking heated, but he doesn't object. The shutter clicks, and John's left with a hollow feeling in his chest for reasons he can't quite define.

2002
AFTER THE END

The walls look diseased, with paint peeling like giant sores, but the decals on the doors are pristine as ever. John takes a moment to admire them. It's hard to believe anything could stay perfect in this world, and particularly ironic that it's the emblem of the law. In Skynet's world, the only law is "survive."

John crosses the threshold. The air is thick with dust. Rubble crunches underneath his feet. Not good. The machines could be anywhere. Hell, they might have beaten him here. It's a risk to go on, but it might be a greater risk to abandon the mission. He treks onward, treading carefully.

Each room holds remnants of the world past. The conference room is full of overturned chairs. John tries not to wonder about the people who must have been sitting in them. The canteen still has soda bottles and chip bags strewn across the floor. He checks the armory, expecting it to be empty, and is surprised to find it's not. Most of the heavy artillery is gone, but a few pistols remain. He takes one, just for the hell of it.

As he inspects the shelves for ammo, he hears a curious sound: another set of footsteps. He grabs a magazine and follows. They don't sound like the footsteps of a machine. They're too hurried and lack rhythm. Then again, they're getting better every day at luring humans out of their camps. He loads the gun and slips inside the room marked "Records." Just what he was looking for. Just what they were looking for?

He finds himself in a Mexican standoff with a girl. She looks to be about his age, and her eyes are fierce, but her hands are shaking. John lowers his gun.

"It's okay," he says. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

She still has her gun at the ready. "Who are you?"

"My name's John Connor. What's yours?"

"Kate Parker."

Gun be damned, he steps closer to her. He has to get a better look. She's about as tired and dirty as any other scavenger, but underneath the grime she's quite pretty. Something about her eyes draws him in. Brilliantly green, they have a fire to them that shines despite her obvious nerves.

"How'd you get here?" he asks. "Why aren't you with a group?"

"Why aren't you?"

Fair enough.

"I am. I'm just here on a solo mission."

"What kind of mission?"

"I've got a record." He points at the file cabinets. "I need to get a hold of it before Skynet does."

Her brow furrows in confusion. "What would Skynet want your record for?"

Oh, no reason, he thinks. I'm only the future savior of the human race.

Better not open with that. That's heavy.

I'm kind of a big deal.

If he was talking to anyone else, he'd probably go with that. It's deflective and cocky, just his style. But the girl has a gun on him, so he should probably be on his best behavior.

"I'm a resistance fighter," he says. Yeah, that's good. Doesn't give too much away.

Kate's eyes widen. "So the rumors about a resistance are true?"

"Yes."

"Dad always said those were just stories." She lowers her gun at last. "But you're real."

John sifts through the file cabinet marked A-C. "We're small, but we're real. A-ha!" He pulls out his folder and opens it. Immediately, memories of simpler times come flooding back to him. Oh, to be nothing but a suburban delinquent. He's so wrapped up in his nostalgia that he hardly notices Kate peering over his shoulder.

"You smiled in your mugshot?" she asks.

"Only the first one."

"Cute."

She means "cute" in the way that a child is cute, and he knows this, but it feeds straight into his ego anyway. He flashes her a smile, near identical to the one in his mugshot, before he shuts the folder and tucks it under his arm.

"Your turn. Where's your group?"

"They're probably dead by now," she says.

Talk about heavy.

"What happened?"

"They got word about some grocery store up in Glendale that hadn't been raided yet. I told them to wait, that the machines were going to be there. But they wouldn't listen to me. Not even my dad."

So she's truly alone. His heart goes out to her. But his head has a question that's nagging at it. "How did you know the machines would be in Glendale?"

"The same way I knew they wouldn't be here." She pulls a small notebook out of her pocket and starts flipping through the pages. "I've been listening to the distress signals. After a while, you start to see patterns. Right now, they should be in the San Fernando area, but they'll be back by nightfall."

"That's incredible..."

With a heavy sigh, she shuts the notebook. "What good is it if no one wants to listen?"

"I know a whole group of people who would love to listen."

"Are you... recruiting me?"

"Yes."

"You want me to become a resistance fighter?"

"Well, really you'd be more like a strategist, but... yeah. Interested?"

He feels deep in his heart that she must be interested. The sheer wonder with which she regarded the resistance says she is. Besides, no one can make it alone in this world, certainly not a teenage girl. It's practically guaranteed that she'll agree to come back with him. Yet, every second it takes for her to answer, his anticipation grows more palpable.

Finally, she puts him out of his misery and says, "Yeah, I'm interested."

"Nice!" He offers her a hand, which she shakes. "Welcome aboard, Kate Parker."

"Thank you, John Connor."

They stop shaking hands, but neither one lets go immediately. A few seconds pass as if they're playing chicken and neither wants to lose. John can feel her warmth through his fingerless gloves. It quickly becomes overwhelming. He pulls away and scratches the back of his neck.

"So, Kate. Is that short for something?"

"Katheryn."

He nods sagely. "I thought so."