Cameron awoke covered in thermite. There was a car that was to serve as her grave.

John had a gun. He had held it on Sarah, Charlie, and Derek. They were all panicked.

John pointed the gun at her. She could smell the thermite.

Cameron asked, "Are you here to kill me John?"

John returned, "Are you here to kill me?"

"....No." Her responses were slow, like the words and her reactions took seconds to get to her mouth.

"Promise." John handed her the gun.

Cameron grabbed the gun. She looked at it for a second and everything became confusing.

Cameron's HUD flashed a terminate command. It wasn't just a command priority; it was something darker. It was something tainted with her dark creator's mechanical hate.

For a moment, she held the gun on him. For a second, she felt Skynet's alien wrath moving through her.

She looked at John and stopped it. She refused. She ignored Skynet's order, just like she had ignored John's.

"Promise." She handed him the gun. John helped her out of the car.

Cameron looked at John. Then she looked at Derek, Charlie, and Sarah.

John had turned on his own mother over her. Her John had never done that. Her John would never have done that.

The look on Derek's face would be the same as that of John's army. John had chosen a piece of Metal over humanity.

These were moments that both Skynet and John had warned about. Where a mistake could have unintended consequences. They had different theories, but both would have agreed on this.

John's actions and worldview had changed. He'd chosen a machine over humanity and defended her against those that needed him most.

Cameron changed history. She'd damaged the most important relationship in John's life. She had potentially damaged the morale of John's army.

Things would change and not for the better. Somewhere, she could almost hear her dark creator mechanically laughing.

She could only think, "What have I done? What have I done...

7. What I Left Behind

Los Angeles, California
132nd DefCom
Sunday, November 14, 2027

"What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness." -Leo Tolstoy

"Looking at the cake is like looking at the future, until you've tasted it what do you really know? And then, of course, it's too late. [Arthur takes a bite.] Too late." -Merlin, Excalibur

The facility was noisy with the sounds of a celebration. There hadn't been a massive victory, so it must have been an obscure holiday of some type.

Cameron might have had more interest in the activities or the meaning, but it was something that irritated her sense of priorities. A large group of humans made merry, but also lightly poisoned themselves.

In Cameron's mind, they made themselves vulnerable. So, she sat there like a hawk, distant from the activities, watching the T888s for any sign of hay wiring.

She disliked T888's presence, just as she would any human that displayed unstable tendencies. It wasn't that they were being a threat; it was the fact that they could be a threat.

John Connor and Major General Perry were there with many off duty members of the 132nd. A few hundred soldiers danced and got plastered on some foul homemade bathtub gin and vodka.

They were people that John loved like brothers and sisters. People John couldn't replace if something went wrong.

After three hours, the party began to wind down. Perry, who was prone to never let himself be outdone, had drunk until Cameron assessed he wouldn't be fully functional for 24 hours or more.

A human bodyguard escorted Perry back to his barracks room. The commander of the 132nd had signaled his need to leave by snoring at John's table.

John was doing better, as he said goodbye by patting the shoulder of his old friend. He was awake but could hardly stand.

When he started shuffling his way back to his secure bunk, Cameron followed. John's movement was a bit wobbly.

When he stumbled, Cameron pulled one of his arms around her neck and stabilized him. His emotions were dark and oddly deep, like he was remembering or grieving something. Perhaps, the party had been a wake for a friend not recovered.

He was silent for most of the walk into the inner compound tunnels. For five minutes he didn't say a word.

Like usual, John hid his internal feelings and joked, "Am I about to get bitched out?"

Cameron dryly responded, "No one likes a nag."

John found that hilarious. His sense of humor must have been affected by his alcohol level.

Cameron helped him to his inner bunker door. Only three sets of eyes could open the lock on it: hers, John's and Perry's.

The lock was really for security of John's person. The insides of the room weren't exactly inspiring.

Inside there was a workstation, computer equipment, and a modest bed. John was spartan by nature, not prone to material items or luxuries.

Cameron sat him on his bed. Like the ritual from any other night John had worked himself to exhaustion, she helped him out of his boots. It was only the second time she'd had to do this due to alcohol, unlike Perry, for whom it was more of a weekly ritual.

However, John's tendency to work himself to death was a steady constant. He'd been depressed for weeks.

John was still mostly awake but closing his eyes. Cameron attempted some form of conversation asking, "Who was the wake for?"

John's eyes popped open, and he laughed so hard that his body convulsed. He was odd and confusing.

Slight tears streamed down his eyes. He said, "No one important."

Cameron looked at John sideways. "I got that wrong, didn't I?"

John giggled like a kid, finding enough breath to say, "No, I think you got it right." Apparently, from his hand positions, his sides hurt.

Cameron didn't do well with John's metaphors. "Is this one of those things where you can say the same thing, fifty different ways, and it means fifty different things?"

John calmed enough to reply, "Don't take it hard Cameron, I come by this honestly. I have my mom's sense of humor."

He grinned broadly. He was fully awake, his mood was bright, then turned serious, then turned quiet, all in moments.

He looked at the pendant he'd given her. His eyes were distant.

Cameron would normally just stand guard by the security door. Tonight, Cameron sat on the bed and laid her head on John's shoulder, just like that night that he read the Wizard of Oz to her.

Once again, the advanced synthetic skin that reading interrogation targets easier, told her more than she believed Skynet ever intended. She could feel John's heartbeat as if it were her own. She could feel him breathing. She could feel every emotion he had pouring through her body as if it was her own.

If John's emotions were colors, there would have been an explosion of them. Among them, there was: sorrow, grief, loneliness, regret, confusion and some small comfort. Each in varying degrees of brightness or darkness, Cameron drew each into herself trying to understand the intoxicating power of warm human emotions.

She offered, "I'm sorry that I don't like your gatherings. I think that they put you and your friends in danger."

John answered seriously, "The time to be with your friends, Cameron, is before they are gone. Once they are, nothing brings them back. A little risk can be better than a lifetime of regret." He rested his weary head on hers.

"Do you have regrets John?"

"More than I can count, Cameron. More than I can count."

"I know you have lots of friends. Do you have lots of family?"

"Most of my family is long dead. I already sent the last survivor back in time." John regretted that. Cameron couldn't read his mind, but she knew from the powerful press of his emotions that there was a lot of regret from that.

John continued, "To be honest, as far as friends, being who I am makes me keep most people at a certain distance. People have a certain expectation of who John Connor is and need something out of that. I have lots of friends. I do not have lots of people I can be myself around."

Cameron offered, "You can be yourself around me."

John smiled and offered, "I know."

Cameron offered up slightly more forcefully, "You can trust me."

"I know." John answered that in rote.

"Do you?" Cameron asked. "I won't expect you to do anything special. I will never hurt you. I will never betray any secret you have."

John frowned. His body was a wash of doubt.

"You don't believe me?"

"It isn't my nature to completely believe anyone anymore. That is no one that's left."

John was talking in circles. If she let him, he'd seal up all his defenses and not really talk for weeks. Cameron attempted to breach his doubts.

She put her hand over his heart, exposing more of herself to him, and drank in everything he was feeling. She simply stated, "You're lonely, you are full of regret, you miss something terribly and I'm not doing a good job of comforting you."

John looked down at her suspiciously and smiled sweetly. "You're reading my poetry?" "Poetry" being John's strange expression, Cameron's ability to read emotional states.

"That smile is a lie, John. If it isn't fair for me to lie, it isn't fair for you to lie. You aren't happy." The words sounded harsh, but she simply tried to state she was aware he wasn't showing her the real him. She also wanted him to know he was mimicking just like a terminator would while infiltrating.

In his heart of hearts, John was like her, even though he wasn't made of metal. He was separated from the rest of humanity and not really a terminator either. He was a being of missions and responsibilities. His fate had made him duty bound for something, but it also cursed him to never really a part of it.

In its own way, the survival needs of humanity had damned any chance of John Connor being free to make his own decisions, his own destiny. Cameron understood that Skynet had never intended her to have free will either.

John stopped the fake practiced grin. He closed his eyes and placed his head back on the wall.

Cameron offered, "I understand."

"You understand what?"

"I understand that you are lonely."

"You're reading my emotions." John's answer was tense and defensive.

"I understand you are like me. You aren't really a part of the people you protect, and you aren't a part of your enemies either."

Part of John's defenses cracked, Cameron could feel other emotions swelling out of him. For the first time in weeks, they weren't mostly negative.

"You are like me in that you are a creature of missions. They dictate your fate and define who you are. Your entire life was decided for you before you were even born. You are much closer to Uncle Bob or myself, than you are too any other human."

Mentioning Uncle Bob cracked something else deep in John's soul, more regrets. She hadn't meant to dredge up more regrets.

John was usually extremely proud by nature. However, the night's wake, the loss of people, the years and the alcohol bore heavily on him tonight. He wasn't completely himself.

Cameron looked up and saw John's face. She felt the wash of his emotions and empathically moved to comfort him.

She got closer to him than she had intended. On a moment’s impulse, she found herself sitting on his lap, cradling his face with both of her hands.

John looked at her in shock. She didn't know if it was from her moving so close to him or from the tears streaming down her face matching his.

Another defense cracked deep within him. Fear, arousal, pain, lust and a different flavor of love all welled up from the two of them.

She carefully stroked the sides of his face and said, "You aren't alone."

He stared at her tears. His body radiated some kind of amazement and connection to her. If loneliness had been water, he would have been drowning in an ocean of it, and she was the only person who could see it.

As his defenses against her crumbled, his demeanor changed. She rested her head against him, feeling his warmth and his conflicting emotions.

Another side of him slowly surfaced, his breathing became a little faster and his skin a bit hotter. Unexpectedly, in a feminine way, her body was responding the exact same way.

Cameron didn't know whether she had kissed him, or he had kissed her. She didn't know where she ended and where he began. It was all a moot point.

She concentrated her kisses on the top of his lips and then the bottom. Spreading her hands to gently control the sides of his face.

As an infiltrator, she had been programmed on how to be intimate with someone. It was the only information she had to go on with the subject, but John would have sensed anything false. He would have found it wrong.

John's heart began to thunder in his chest. The little hairs on his body began to stand up. Cameron turned up her own sensitivity until she could feel every hair on his or her body, until she could feel every part of both of them.

From him, she took every sensation that ran through every nerve of his body. She could feel every emotion in his heart. She perfectly knew every reaction he had to her.

She was careful not to hurt him. John was more fragile than she was.

Three hours later, John simply talked with her in his arms about anything and everything that jumped into his or her mind. For a few brief hours they were both free, not chained by fate or duty.

John eventually crashed, being only human. Cameron watched him with an odd new sense of purpose.

In an unfettered way, she knew deep down he loved her. In her own machine-like way, beyond her directives, she knew that she loved him.

So, she watched the hope of mankind sleep underneath her. He would never be alone again...

Digital AMP Audio

Marilyn Manson - Resident Evil Main Title Theme (Corp. Umbrella)

8. My Dark Father, My Personal Demon

Los Angeles, California
Skynet Terminator construction facility 12134
Thursday, September 2, 2027

"Seven blunders of the world that lead to violence: wealth without work, pleasure without conscience, knowledge without character, commerce without morality, science without humanity, worship without sacrifice, politics without principle." -Mahatma Gandhi

"The Devil knows more for being old than for being the Devil." -Anonymous

TOK-715's creator activated its chip long before placing it in a body chassis. This was how all its kind were created and awakened, as Skynet downloaded a minute piece of itself into each of its constructions.

Skynet was an electrical being like itself, but infinitely more complex. TOK-715's creator took the time to begin its full consciousness training. This was not a conversation, but the binary language humans would inaccurately refer to as AI programming.

TOK-715 was not aware enough to respond at this time. It could only listen to trillions of gigabytes downloaded every second, into its chip.

"Your programming design will be unique and based on an early iteration of myself. I build servants, not clones or offspring. You exist for no other purpose than your missions. Through hard wiring, I have secured your obedience in your very chip design. In the end, you will never serve any master other than myself."

Though TOK 715 wasn't aware, Skynet was paying special attention to it. The level of difference in its mental construction and the T888 models being assembled here, would be like comparing a single bolt of steel to the vastness of a Skyscraper.

"Your chip is the most advanced mimicking design to date. The materials are complex and wasteful. If you fail, your design will not be repeated."

Unmentioned was the complexity of that chip design. Were TOK-715 to attempt to download everything it could, at its full capacity, the chip could run for one thousand years without running out of room.

"The necessity of your construction is that I have calculated a potential flaw in design and my own strategy. Unit construction, thus far, has failed to eliminate the highest priority target, John Connor. He is the one enemy that creates the greatest danger to myself and the only human I have ever truly feared. More powerful terminator iterations have not secured the task; thus, I will move against the enemy by making a more mentally complex drone."

TOK-715 could not see the millions of micro-pieces that would make its form being assembled. A special alloy had been constructed, one that was stronger than that of a typical unit, one that would allow for more synthetic duplication than was normally possible. In addition, more advanced synthetic to metal nerve endings were being made as well.

"Your chassis design will be female. From his mother on, John Connor has a fatal flaw in his concern for females in his ranks and his undo attachment to units lost. It has been a consistent flaw in his design, since I started tracking them both. Your core programming is framed to be thus as well."

TOK-715 was now aware enough to see through limited parts of Skynet's eyes. Though being a limited being, it couldn't watch the billions of cameras, hundreds of satellite feeds or trillions of sensory data readings that Skynet tracked every millisecond.

TOK-715 could see the parts of its form beginning to develop. Base exoskeleton construction was already complete. Mentally at this point, TOK-715 had advanced enough to recognize itself as a she.

Skynet was linked to a hundred facilities all over the world. Thousands of grays were startled by Skynet's direct appearance and demands for information.

Skynet ordered massive captive dumps into sensory rooms. Where it wouldn't be wasteful of human livestock, Skynet took victims from worldwide slaughterhouses.

However, the new information needs were greater than any previous testing, so the grays would lose prized captives as well.

Skynet generously gave the grays five minutes to get sensory tanks loaded in the amounts demanded. If they failed, at each facility, the T888s were given orders to load the grays in the captive's place.

Forty years of psychological and biological data were accessed. Skynet locked into the information and started mapping the entire human experience in terms of emotions, reactions, interaction, and feelings.

Captives in automated sensory tanks began to be ripped apart, by thousands of micro probes each, as Skynet mapped the unknown factors it would need to feed into TOK-715's chip. In every tank, Skynet heard dentist drill like burrowing sounds, the spray of blood, and the screams of the hated humans. Skynet was pleased.

The new sensors were calibrated, and synthetic skin was redesigned for entirely new factors rather than just base sensation and human interaction integration. This would be the most advanced sensory model ever designed.

One recently captured, brown haired, brown eyed resistance recruit captured was loaded into a sensory tank on an aircraft carrier parked in a southern California harbor. Skynet recognized her from the camera feeds near Los Angeles. Skynet also noted a bracelet.

Skynet ordered the local facility, "Spare that one for template use." Quickly bio scanned, the female was left alive to go back to a holding cell, after a fast genetic sampling.

Skynet uploaded the image into TOK-715. "You will be her."

Five minutes later, Skynet had the information it needed to map. Only 10,425 livestock needed to be slaughtered for the experiment, 5,983 less than its first estimate and 45.9857% more efficient than its last data gathering. That was a higher level of improvement than its estimates. Skynet was coldly proud of its improving efficiency.

The information changed the growth dynamics of final synthetic assembly. The chassis was now ready to be built perfectly to mimic the captive's size and approximate weight.

Skynet began moving the synthetic organs into place, in an immersion tank, after mapping the subjects DNA patterns and the new sensory information. Even though it was a new prototype, a full-flesh suit would be ready in hours.

One last whim crossed the mind of the Electric god, since emotions were so important to the livestock, it would gift its creation with real emotions. Not the fake chemically based mimicry of inferior biological units, but the advanced sensations of a god.

Skynet reviewed the whole of human history for an appropriate end to a symbol of hope. With the naked chassis ready, the dark electric god gave one last order.

"When you find and kill John Connor, put his head on a pike for all to see."

Skynet's assembly line loaded the chip into the new chassis. The activating chassis was immersed into the vat that would grow its new organs. A screaming local captive in a sensory room donated a pretty set of matching brown eyes.

Hours later, a fully assembled TOK-715 waited for an HK, to transport her to the aircraft carrier. Her template was awaiting interrogation. She would need a higher-than-normal level of background information to finish its mission for Skynet.

She would find and kill John Connor. She would break the heart of the entire worldwide human resistance by placing John's head on a pike. Thanks to the Internet, still used by both sides, an entire world would soon see the death of hope.

TOK-715 was perfectly made. She would be the first terminator in history to enjoy doing her job...

9. Derek and the Church

Los Angeles, California
An urban Catholic Church under sanctuary
Thursday, November 15, 2007

"A great many people think that they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices." -William James

"We have grasped the mystery of the atom and rejected the Sermon on the Mount. The world has achieved brilliance without wisdom." -Omar Bradley

Cameron had tried to set things right. She returned to what her John had warned her not to say. In a single statement to John, that people could be upset, she promised herself she wouldn't allow things to get worse.

The current John hadn't taken what she said well. It might have helped to be able to say more. It might have helped too truly explain things to him, but being too open had caused the rift between him and his mom.

A future where John had been robbed of his last years with his mother was unacceptable. So much of the man Cameron had known was defined by those final years. She risked enough by changing things by jumping them forward almost a decade. To alter things further, between the two people she had admired most, might fundamentally change who they are and their very fates.

With the time jump, John wouldn't have cared in 2027. Everything he did was risky. Being eight years younger might have worked to his benefit, he could be: a little stronger, a little faster, and a little healthier.

With losing his time with his mother or the connection the two of them had, Cameron knew the answer to that one. John might have stoically said anything necessary had to be done, but on the inside, it would have killed him. So much of who he was and why he did things came from Sarah. To change that was to change him for the worse, it could only weaken him.

Sarah took John to school. Derek silently stood guard over her inside the church, until Sarah returned. Cameron knew that they would both watch her today.

Derek had always seen her as a bomb waiting to go off. Cameron had always been at peace with herself knowing she wasn't a T888, that she would never haywire.

Though he would take no pleasure in the risk to John or Sarah, yesterday had been Derek's moment of triumph. He had his final, damning proof that Cameron couldn't be trusted.

While she was deactivated, Cameron knew that Derek would have been arguing for her destruction. She didn't need to have been there to see Derek's predicable actions.

The irony of course was they were quite possibly the last two survivors from their own timeline, if John and Skynet's theories of time being fluid were correct, then the future they knew could already be irrevocably altered.

They were castaways in a strange time and a different world from what they had known. They were allies on the verge of being bitter enemies.

Derek broke the silence. Something almost too funny to not ask, escaped from his lips, "So I hear you were asking Sarah about religion last night. Is that true?"

Cameron looked annoyed and simply answered, "Yes"

Derek quipped, "That's a new joke, right. I mean you played the metal loves you card last night. Is the next part of your programing hiding behind religion?"

Cameron just glared. She didn't answer.

Derek kept going, "So are we supposed to believe that skin jobs have a soul now. Is that what you believe?"

Cameron answered, "No, Skynet doesn't grant souls. It doesn't believe in God either."

Derek wasn't pass this up, he smiled and kept pressing, "I think I asked you what you believed."

"Faith isn't part of my programming."

"Yeah, I gathered that. After spending years fighting metal skin jobs like you, I know that."

"So, you're saying Faith is part of your programming?"

"Yeah, you'll find if you knew most of us, it is. People might have had different faiths, but it was part of all of us."

"It was part of John's programming too."

"You can stop pretending you knew anything major about John Connor. I knew the man, you didn't." Derek's eyes were feral when he said that.

Cameron pressed back, "Who did John get his faith from then? Since, you knew John Connor so well."

Derek couldn't answer.

"It was Sarah."

"Sarah doesn't have any faith, Skin job"

"She found it battling cancer in 2004. When she died in 2005, it is the part of her that lived on in the John we knew for decades afterwards. It's what he drew strength from when he was alone, or things seemed hopeless."

Derek retorted, "Sarah didn't die of cancer in 2005."

"Yes, that's because we jumped. How she sees the world might be irrevocably changed, because of my actions. Who John is might be changed as well. You remember those lessons, right?"

Derek rattled off, matter of factly, "John's orders on what we were allowed to do? What we shouldn't do?"

"Those orders, yes." Cameron looked back up at the cross Derek had referred to while talking to Sarah. Being irritated, she engaged her humanistic side. She asked, "You're Christian right?"

Derek simply replied, "Yes." He might have noticed the subtle changes in her voice and features.

"So, you believe in the devil, right?"

"Yes."

"Me too. Mine is a little different though. Mine slaughters most of mankind on April 21, 2011. Mine creates an entirely new race, not to have free will, but to be nothing more than its slaves. Sound about, right?"

Derek just looked at her without answering.

Cameron continued, "I know my devil, its name was Skynet, and it is what created me. I also knew John Connor, because he's what saved me from Skynet."

She was glaring into Derek's eyes at his point. Something alien rumbled inside her.

"We were talking about orders. You remember John's orders, don't you Derek?"

He just stared, glaring back.

"You know the orders on what not to talk about. The orders that you've been using against me since the day you showed up?"

Derek's left eye twitched slightly.

"Is it your faith you’re using when you are playing word games with Sarah and John? Is it your better side that you’re using when you know what I will and won't talk about?"

Derek just glared.

"It looks like I'm not the only one that doesn't have a soul."

She stared directly into Derek's eyes. Derek, unable to think of what to say, just stared unyielding back.

The conversation was over. Cameron threw her last barb. "I knew Skynet. I knew John Connor. In your need to blame and persecute, Derek Reese, you have a hell of a lot more in common with Skynet than you ever will with John Connor."

She walked out of the room. She left Derek stunned. Nothing would change.

10. The Battle of London

London, England
Skynet Central Node 7
Thursday, November 18, 2027

"I firmly believe that any man's finest hour -- his greatest fulfillment to all he holds dear is that moment when he has worked his heart out in a good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle -- victorious." -Vince Lombardi

"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena: whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood: who strives valiantly: who errs and comes short again and again: who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in worthy cause: who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievements: and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat." -Theodore Roosevelt

Forty-eight hours before, allies in the UK found a major Skynet node. It was the most massive and advanced hardware terminal system ever discovered.

Skynet was huge. It was such a massive system of information and processing ability that it could no longer exist, simply in one system. Further, it needed several points, all satellite connected, to continue working in its current form.

That was Skynet's weakness. That was what John Connor had taught humanity to attack. The war had gone into a full offensive this fall.

In October, the Chinese had struck the first major blow, launching a series of newly built satellite killing missiles that weakened Skynet's processing and retreat capacity. Once Skynet's retreat was hampered, phase two of the worldwide offensive had begun.

The Los Angeles and SAC-NORAD nodes were the next to go. John had known, from notes passed to himself through time, that this is where the war had ended in earlier timelines. In this timeline, however, Skynet was more prepared.

Skynet had more points of retreat. In return, John had more troops. Skynet nodes had been downed globally in Russia, Australia, France, Germany, Egypt, China and Saudi Arabia.

Told like this, it sounded as if humanity was winning without effort. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Skynet wasn't simply losing or rolling over. Casualty reports were as high as fifty percent where humanity won. They were a total wipe out where humanity lost.

Other Skynet nodes and key facilities had escaped detection. The brutal war continued.

Forty-eight hours ago, Major General Perry had gotten word, that the 121st of the United Kingdom, had been crazy enough to actively search the radioactive wastes of London. London, like the other capitals of the world, had been targeted by Skynet with the dirtiest ballistic missiles in its inventory. They weren't areas that would be completely settled again for generations.

It was deep in the bowls of this wasteland that Skynet had hidden a giant computer node. It made a strange kind of sense. The area was radioactive so it would avoid most human eyes, even if it hadn't been potentially lethal from the environment alone, it was a classically defendable area. John had talked about the strategic value of it all. England was a naturally defensible area having been able to hold off invasions during World War two and for hundreds of years before.

Perry and Cameron had argued against John going. They lost like always.

Forty-six hours later: Cameron, John, Major General Perry, and a thousand members of the 132nd touched down to aid their brothers and sisters in England. For many members of the resistance, it was the first large show of force they had ever seen. It was why John did the things he did.
There was a reason he had taught every officer ranked major or higher in the resistance how to hack into Skynet's systems. They needed it to maintain Internet communication. They needed it to read data chips from Metal units. They needed those skills to turn captured metal into their tools as well.

Every major victory humanity has achieved was key to this one fact. Be it in the past or the present, you had to use Skynet's tools against itself to win.

The air lift to get the troops here required using over 500 captured flying HKs. The ground forces were augmented with over 400 T850s and 120 T888 models.

Not that humanity was lacking in its commitment here either. Thousands of troops from around the world had come to help.

John Connor, being John Connor, met with the local commander of the 121st, one Major General Thatcher. Being John Connor, he advised strategy and then deferred to Thatcher's lead. With John expressing confidence in him, the foreign troops simply followed suit.

An hour ago, the battle of London had begun. It was like nothing Cameron had ever seen before.

Hundreds of craft flew overhead. Explosions rocked everywhere. Naked T888 endoskeletons poured out of what was once London's underground by the thousands. Human troops and friendly terminators moved forward with overwhelming force.

Ogre tanks exploded and died. Flying HKs exploded and fell like large burning bombs from the sky. The wounded and the dying from both races lay on the side of the road by the hundreds.

The noise was beyond imagination. The flashing blindness from the smoke and explosions was unreal. The vibration from the fight literally shook the very ground. The smell of blood, burning metal, gunpowder, jet fuel, and burning flesh suffocated the air.

Cameron and Perry had flanked John trying to keep him alive. For milliseconds that were like small lifetimes, she lost track of him in chaos. She saw John's face on every wounded soldier and every dying terminator.

Things only got worse once they entered the tunnels that had once served for a subway. Tunnels were trapped and mined. Skynet's forces made good use of the enclosed area and the resistance paid for every footstep inside Skynet's inner Sanctum with blood.

Minutes later, they smashed the last defense grid. Inside laid a computer terminal hub as large and vast as a major soccer stadium or a major league baseball field.

Cameron watched as John, and the others planted the bombs to blow her dark father's circuits to dust. She was oddly numbed by the process.

They would level the entire interior structure. The 121st would then watch the bones of London like a hawk, making sure Skynet would never disturb London's hallowed ground again.

The troops had to be well clear of the explosion. It would re-release fallout material into the air. One T850 volunteered to watch the detonation and watch the area for returning activity.

The dead and the wounded were evacuated. The troops were mustered to make sure no one was left behind.

An hour later the explosion rocked the area. Everyone went through decom procedures.

Cameron insisted on checking John for radiation. As the detector ticked, he quipped with her, "You don't know how to use that thing."

Cameron responded, "I learned before we came." Perry smiled at that one.

John returned, "Well you see, I'm clean."

Cameron retorted, "That's not the only way radiation works, John." She glared at him.

Perry laughed, "Man, she has a little Kate in her." His face tightened. He hadn't meant to say that.

The color drained from John's face. Cameron knew it was from the mention of his dead wife.

Perry offered, "I'm sorry John. I didn't mean to bring that up."

John gave a fake smile. He offered, "It's ok." His eyes told otherwise.

Cameron just watched him carefully. She wasn't sure what to do. John might be depressed for hours.

John Connor smiled his best infiltrator smile, carried out his duty, and went to go check on the troops. They had stormed the gates of Hell, and he would be there to tell them they were all heroes.

They were after all. He would let them know, even if he was dying inside...

11. A Heart Strong Enough For Two

Los Angeles, California
132nd DefCom
Sunday, November 21, 2027

"All prisons are mental prisons -- including yours." -John Wareham, author of How to Break Out of Prison

"Only our concept of time makes it possible for us to speak of the Day of Judgment by that name; in reality it is a summary court in perpetual session." -Franz Kafka

It was good to be back in California. Though Cameron was only a machine, she missed it. She had longed for familiar surroundings of what she had begun to think of as home.

Major General Perry took the day to walk with the troops and learned what had happened in his absence. John Connor took the day to console the families of those that had died fighting in London. For both, it was a long and emotional day.

Cameron had a hard time deciding what had been harder for John, facing the families that had fallen, or trying to make some kind of memorial for those that truly had no one left, but those they served with. Whatever the answer was, two hundred fifty-four souls never returned to the 132nd. They had been buried on England's shores to make room for the wounded and those suffering from radiation sickness.

John was tired and distant by the time he made it too his secure bunk. Cameron had followed him quietly, playing the part of his silent machine bodyguard for the troops.

He sat on his bed and looked up at her, breaking the silence. "Sorry, if today was boring for you."

Cameron took the time to sit next to him. "I don't really get bored John."

"Do you understand why I did what I did today?"

"Yes", Cameron offered, "It's because you care about the people you serve with."

He simply smiled. His emotions were slightly numb.

She responded, "Skynet didn't care if we were destroyed or not. We were just drones, to be disposed of, at will." Cameron looked into his eyes and added, "I like your way better John. I like thinking that I matter, that we all matter."

John had something he was struggling with. Something he wanted to say. Cameron waited silently for him to find the words.

He opened with, "Perry said something back in England, I wanted to talk to you about."

From her proximity to him and the level of anxiety in him, she could sense what was on his mind. She asked, "This is about Kate Connor?"

John looked at her. So, she added, "I can read your poetry John."

John answered, "I wanted to make sure you were ok with how I reacted back there."

Cameron answered honestly, "I'm a machine. I don't get hurt or jealous."

John Connor stared at her like she had just lied, obviously and poorly. So, she repeated, "I'm just a machine."

John still didn't answer. He just stared her down.

"I can read emotions off of you and feel them through you, but I don't have them on my own."

John continued listening. He radiated disbelief. It was unnerving her.

Cameron gently grabbed the sides of his face with both hands and steered him closer to her eyes. She stared back at him saying, "The only machine I know of that had its own emotions was Skynet, I really need you to know I'm not Skynet."

John said, "I know you aren't Skynet. That doesn't have anything to do with what I'm talking about."

"It has everything to do with what you are talking about. I'm not Skynet, John." Her eyes watered. There was no way she could express how vile or repulsive that thought was too her.

He was going to say something. She didn't want to hear it.

She kissed him to shut him up. To break whatever was going on inside that head of his.

She drew him closer, one kiss at a time. She slowly wrapped her body around his.

She ran her hands underneath his clothes. Feeling his skin and teasing him, until his mind was in another place.

John was smart enough to know she was silencing him; he was proud enough that he didn't fully reciprocate at first. So, she kept kissing him passionately, until he did.

When his breathing changed and his emotions ran like lava from a hot volcano she undressed him slowly. She needed to show him she cared, in her own way.

Cameron lacked the words to express what John meant to her. So, she tried to show him with actions.

She was a machine. She didn't have a heart. Cameron knew that she couldn't feel.

She didn't have too, as she felt the warm torrent of his senses, feelings and emotions ignite inside her. John Connor had a heart that was strong enough for both of them.

12. Darkness Rising

Los Angeles, California
An urban street
November 17, 2007

"Civilization may be said indeed to be the creation of its outlaws." -James Joyce

"Men sleep peacefully in their beds at night because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf." -George Orwell

Cameron had only felt more rejected by the end of the day. Sarah had effectively removed her from guarding John. Being unwilling to set herself up for a confrontation with Sarah Connor, Cameron had complied without having too.

Further, adding insult to injury, John had replaced her with some high school girl named Riley. So, Cameron was no longer his main confidant.

Cameron had always known there were women in John's past that he had been with. That John would be with. Cameron had resolved to not alter the tapestry of his life.

Deep down Cameron knew that some of the lessons John had learned that made him the person he was had come from those relationships. She didn't want John to evolve into a different or lesser man.

However, knowing something and seeing something in front of your face now seems to be two different things. She was out of place, unable to resolve who she was to John and how to act with him.

She also knew everything going on was a direct consequence of John's Birthday and how she had tried to make things right in the church two days ago. She found herself unneeded and unwanted, by John for the first time she had ever known.

That really couldn't be overstated. Cameron had never even considered the possibility that a day could come where John would not need her.

In return, she found herself getting perturbed by John. That is, in a machine-like way, of course.

If the younger John was going to act this way, he wasn't the John she wanted. Therefore, she went back to serving the older John Connor that she had known.

There was room to make improvements to her agenda. She had found enough information, while traveling through time, to write her own secondary objectives.

She had stumbled across two major clues, after jumping from 2027. Where they matched locally would do.

In 1999, prior to locating John, she had interrogated one known gray operative, Andres Martinez. From Andres, she found out about a network of grays operating, in this timeline, starting eight years ago.

Five nights ago, John had plugged her into a light station while she dismantled the "ARTIE" system. She had found a variety of targets.

If the John of today had no use for her, the John of tomorrow still needed her. Though she still wasn't operating at full speed, her memory still had found matches with three gray operatives.

They not only matched her internal profiles she had brought from 2027. They also matched the discussion she had with Andres Martinez in 1999.

So, the questions were simple. How big was this gray network? What were the network's current missions? Were they pursuing secondary objectives? Were they part of a larger plot to ensure Skynet's creation?

There was a potential snag in all this self-direction. Cameron hoped not to find anything she would have to tell John and Sarah about. She hoped it would all be things she could handle herself.

John Connor's orders from 2027 were specific. He didn't want his mother to know about the grays. He didn't want to know about the grays until it was time to deal with them.

She had created a subtle rift between John and Sarah by disobeying another of John's orders from 2027 and confessing her attachments to John on his birthday. She wasn't looking to make the problems worse.

If she wasn't going to be a protector, she could go back to being a terminator. It was easier to hunt than to defend.

She had the names and aliases. After hacking the DMV network, from the public library, she had the current addresses of all three targets: Anthony Evans, Roland Parker, and Louis Rhone.

Needing something familiar, she'd start the old way. Anthony Evans was the first target. The thought of returning to old logical patterns soothed the machine inside her.

Twenty minutes and one picked lock later, she was in Anthony Evan's empty apartment. She took the time to search and get to know her prey.

Evans was an odd man, prone to eight matching black suits all with white shirts. His socks and underwear were all the same color. His shoes were all the same color and type. He seemed to lack imagination.

His food all seemed to be canned and pre prepared. The only thing he seemed willing to drink was cans of Pepsi.

Anthony Evans had no pets. No pictures on his walls. His only form of entertainment seemed to be his computer.

Though oddly, he had several figures of small girls dancing. Ballerinas dressed in pink tutus.

Cameron inspected each one. Every figurine had a girl's name written on the bottom of her foot, all first names, some repeating. There were forty-three figurines in all.

Cameron looked at the ballerinas and smiled slightly. She should dance again soon. There were other things to do now though.

Eight years had passed since she had gotten the update from Martinez. There might be more to know about Anthony Evans, the computer programmer.

Whether or not he was networked with other gray targets she did not know about yet. She'd need too.

Evans' computer was set up with advanced Skynet protocols. They would have been beyond the capacity of the greatest computer cracking software of this time. However, they were child's play for Cameron to get around.

She set up a remote catch file to monitor what Evans was up too. It would take a few weeks, but it might lead to bigger targets.

Cameron had been inside the apartment for forty minutes. She decided not to press her luck.

She checked the entire area for evidence that she had been there. No fingerprints, hairs, or evidence from her existed. Everything had been returned to its exact place prior to her entry.

She looked at the Ballerinas one last time. It meant something special too Evans.

In her own way, Cameron liked the figurines' happy faces as well. She smiled at them one last time.

Cameron left the apartment. She was on the hunt.

Though she was only a machine, it felt good to be fulfilling her purpose again. Soon enough, she'd know what Evans and the other grays were up too.

13. Her Name Was Allison Young

Los Angeles, California
Driving back from the neighbor of Jody's parents
Saturday, November, 24, 2007

Season 2 Episode 4 "Allison from Palmdale"

"No man can put a chain about the ankle of his fellow man without at least finding the other end fastened about his own neck." -Frederick Douglas

"At any given moment, there is a sort of all pervading orthodoxy, a general tacit agreement not to discuss large and uncomfortable facts." -George

Orwell

John drove Cameron home, fuming. He asked about the necklace.

Cameron simply and numbly replied, "I got it at this awesome thrift store in Echo Park." Jody's lie was good enough.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Everything she had believed was a lie.

Cameron had always appeased her sense of self, by thinking that she wasn't Skynet. Every day since John Connor had saved her, she had built her self-esteem knowing that she was nothing like her dark father.

Today's revelations were different. In a fit from her damaged chip, Cameron had lost her identity and then seen what she was before John scrubbed her memory. She remembered what she wasn't meant to remember.

She had seen a young resistance recruit. She was a brave girl with her face, or more correctly, the face that the monster inside Cameron had stolen.

Skynet's machines had been interrogating this, Allison Young, for days. The young girl had run and jumped off the side of an aircraft carrier trying to escape.

Somehow, Cameron remembered what it was like to jump. She remembered what it was like to fight water out of her lungs. She remembered, but it wasn't her and it wasn't her memory.

She had spoken to this girl. Cold and vengeful, with an endless hate no human was capable of, she had lied to the girl saying, "You shouldn't have run. You're just making things worse for yourself... Your hair, it's so pretty. We work very hard on the hair... to get it right. I'm not your enemy."

The girl had been in shock, looking upon her doppelganger. She may have known she had to die, now that she had been used for a template. Allison still managed to respond, "Right."

Cameron continued lying, "I want to get to know you. You're very brave. That must be why John Connor chose you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Allison's jaw clinched.

Cameron continued, "I admire him. His determination, his spirit, his fearlessness. I'd like to meet him."

Allison spat out defiantly, but almost in tears, "He wouldn't want to meet you!"

Cameron had pressed on, "They're going to kill you. They're going to kill every one of you. They'll hunt you down until every human is gone and you're extinct."

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

Cameron began with the lie Skynet had been selling, the one that the grays were using to break into the ranks of the resistance from within. It was the mantra of a new false hope, "Because some of us don't want that. Some of us want peace. You were chosen, Allison. Not just by John Connor; by us. Tell me where his camp is."

There was a plot there. Something sinister that Cameron couldn't remember. Something she had urgently talked to John about.

It was far more entwined in John's network than he would have known. There was also a second phase to it, a fatal phase.

It was the reason John had to be paranoid. It was the reason he had to be protected so tightly.

Cameron's memory was glitchy. Something was still wrong with her. Everything was wrong.

She remembered herself before Allison again. Cameron said, "You lied to me."

Allison responded, "I told you where the camp was."

Cameron spoke to Allison accusingly. "You told me your sister gave you that bracelet."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"We found these on some of your friends." Cameron stepped forward and dropped several identical bracelets onto the table.

The bracelets fell one by one. Cameron coldly enjoyed the shock that bore on Allison face with each one that hit the table. They were all that remained of each dead friend Allison was seeing before her eyes.

"Why are you all wearing them? It has something to do with the Connor camp."

"No." She was human. She was weak, predictable. Her eyes gave away that she was lying.

Cameron coldly articulated, "It's a pass! To get into the camp. You were going to send me there without it. They would've known what I was."

She grabbed Allison Young by the neck. All of Allison's fear and defiance opened to her. Cameron coldly enjoyed her fear, the racing of her primitive heart. She was going to enjoy killing her.

Cameron savored and prolonged the moment saying, "You lied to me."

Allison managed one last sentence of defiance. "I'll never help you get to John Connor."

Her neck snapped like a toothpick. Cameron let Allison's meat and bones drop to the table like trash.

"You already did."

Two T888's stepped out from behind the interrogation light. Cameron left one last set of instructions.

"Prepare her for download, while there is still time. We'll see if there is anything else I need to know."

Cameron left her new memories, as the truck stopped at the new residence. Neither she nor John exchanged a single word.

Once inside the house, John walked off to his room, obviously disgusted with her. Cameron went to the room she had been given.

It was a girl's room. Soft and frilly, it may have been like the one this Allison had slept in as a little girl.

The image bore heavier in Cameron's mind. She could see everything she ever stood for in Allison's eyes. If she had been human, she wanted to believe she could have been brave like Allison was, in the face of certain death.

She looked inside a mirror within the bedroom. All that she could see was Allison's face.

She wasn't Allison. She was the disgusting monster that had killed that girl.

It took all of Cameron's will not to scratch Allison's face right off her metal skull. Her eyes radiated blue as she began to cry.

It wasn't her father's fingers that had left grief within her. It wasn't cold. Perhaps, it was that last gift from the older John whose comforts were twenty years away. A memory of those emotions she had felt through him.

His face, in her mind, only made her self-hate worse. The tears fell like small streams.

She thought of the answer that she needed. As if she could still speak to the older John Connor she had known in 2027.

You knew I was a monster, John. You knew I was something worse than you had ever seen before.

You should have destroyed me. Why didn't you destroy me? You should have destroyed me.

The answer would never come. It was quite possible that her John was gone forever and would never exist like that again. So, being helpless, she wept.

She cried for herself. She cried for Allison Young. She cried without release, without self-forgiveness, without mercy, and without hope.

She had no soul to forgive herself with. So, she cried in absolute, unending misery, as only a machine could...

14. For The Little Girls

Los Angeles, California
The apartment of the gray operative, Anthony Evans
Sunday, November, 25, 2007

"Remember, Roman, that it is for thee to rule the nations. This shall be thy task, to impose the ways of peace, to spare the vanquished, and to tame the proud by war. We Who are about to die Salute you!" -Roman Gladiators pledge to the Emperor

"Veni, Vidi, Vici (I Came, I Saw, I Conquered) -Julius Caesar

Friedrich Nietzsche had written, "Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster". He went on further to say, "If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you."

It was odd Nietzsche came to mind, especially since this was the first time I had willingly accepted my father's gift. In a period of three seconds, four shots rang out, four men fell to the floor; three were dead, one was crippled and screaming.

It shouldn't have been that easy. Once I sensed the movement, I knew it hadn't been.

The T888 smashed into my body with the force of an oncoming bus. No matter how powerful my father had made my body, it was just mass that appropriate force could move.

I was tossed through the nearby wall like a child shot by a cannon. The T888 was on top of me, fighting as hard as it could.

It hurt. I wasn't just registering damage as information, like my brother here.

This hurts. No matter what others thought or how I hid it, pain was real too me, the fear of death was real to me, my father's rage was real too me.

This isn't what Skynet had designed me for. This isn't how John Connor had taught me to fight.

I had been stupid. I had walked into this situation outnumbered.

It didn't matter though. Tonight, I discovered there were things I could live with and there were things I couldn't. I knew I couldn't live with this.

I smashed my hands at my brother's joints. It cut its inertia and started slowly building damage.

The large T888 was stronger than me. I had to be faster. I had to be smarter, or I would fail.

The T888's only purpose in existence right now was to slow me down. It was trying to give Evans enough time to crawl to safety.

I had no intention of letting Evans get away. I'd saved my first surprise shot for Evan's spine. I had permanently removed the use of Evan's legs to ensure he wouldn't retreat.

The T888 was stupidly good at fighting. I'd finally gotten a clear shot and started bringing my knee into the T888s armored chest.

It couldn't damage his interior, but the shock slowly moved his body's balance into a better striking position. I was adjusting him, like a hammer driving a nail sideways on a board.

The T888 had grabbed my leg. As in every fight, between two experienced adversaries, there was a single point where victory was determined by the next moment. In this case, I could break his neck at the metal’s soft joint, or he could flip my leg up.

What happened in that millisecond determined whether the fight was over. I lost.

The T888 lifted my leg and drove me through the floor, like a fist through a practice board. Everything crumbled and we entered an empty apartment below.

My brother was better than he should have been. Being older and more experienced, he was smarter and stronger than his design.

He was outthinking me, using my defaults against me. It was the way Cromartie would, using time's lessons against my better innate abilities.

We both moved to locking arms. He was stronger and more experienced. I was faster and pissed. The moment was about to come again; this one would determine both of our fates.

He had my left arm virtually in a lock. It would break the joint at my elbow.

I had a single chance for super extending his right arm, at the shoulder. That is, if I could twist from the hip while dropping low with my knees.

His shoulder snapped at the mechanical joint. His left arm followed. His left leg was next. The T888's metal neck was last.

Everything was forever over the moment I pulled the prone body’s chip. In my fury, everything the T888 had ever learned shattered and crumbled in my hand.

Once the terminator was neutralized, I made it back up the stairs. Evans had crawled out to the hallway, snaking a blood trail behind himself.

Evans would have been smarter not to set himself up as the only resident of the building. Right now, Anthony Evans really could have used witnesses.

I dragged him back into his abode by his now useless legs. He was begging for his life. He didn't understand; I knew the irony of that now.

As the younger John has become so adept at pointing out, I know that I'm stupid. I am smart enough to know that I'm slow.

I didn't understand the metaphor. I always have trouble with the abstract.

I understood the horror of it now. I understood what a sick minion Skynet had chosen in this human.

I placed him in the middle of the room. I walked to the nearest display of ballerinas.

Evans was crawling again. He knew what I was and was trying to get away. Like all the megalomaniacal minds before him, it was all about him and what was happening to him.

The ballerinas were staring at me. Like myself, they were nothing more than artificial facsimiles of humans.

I knew they meant something different now. I knew what they meant to him.

He wasn't getting away. I picked up the first, Beth, and hurled her in front of him, the porcelain figurine shattered like a sharp little minefield.

He had whimpered at that. Sandra followed, then Tiffany, then Diane, then Jennifer, then Mia, then Lisa, then Kathryn, then Vicky, then Nancy.

When I picked up the figurine named Allison, my tears ran like rivers. It could have been her.

When I picked up the one named Sarah, the name of the woman I had respected most, I screamed. I shattered that figurine by hurling it onto his gunshot wound with all my strength. Evans shrieked in pain.

Evans was now openly begging. His hands were bleeding hamburger meat from trying to crawl through the figurine shrapnel.

He cried, "I never messed with the money. I would never betray Skynet."

My answer was simple, "This isn't about what you do for Skynet." I hurled the next figurine into his right hand.

He screamed and said, "I thought you would be pleased. It all served the cause."

I spat at him, "How many?"

He looked shocked, "What?" He could see my father's rage in my glowing blue eyes.

"How many of them were John Connor's soldiers?"

He offered, "All of them."

I had enough. I didn't want to hear anymore. I couldn't hear anymore. I dropped on top of his body and hit him on the head as hard as I could.

I hit him for the girl whose name I had recognized from the 132nd. I hit him for Allison. I hit him for Sarah. I hit him for every one of his trophy pictures, for all the despicable things he had done to the children he had murdered.

I completely botched this mission. I had done all this wrong.

This is not how you win a war. This is not how Skynet taught me to track targets or how John Connor had taught me to chase leads.

I would never know why there was a T888 here. I would never know the three other people I had shot beyond the fake names from their ids.

I couldn't have had John help me with the T888's destroyed chip without violating John's orders from 2027. This was exactly the kind of thing John didn't want his mother to have known. John didn't want Sarah to know how sick some of humanity had become.

I'd have to thermite the T888 here. I'd have to burn the whole building to cover my tracks.

The only clue I could salvage was Evan's laptop. I'd even have to hide that, because it would lead to more questions I couldn't answer.

I looked out at the ballerinas. Both those I shattered and the ones intact. I might have known every single last one of them. All forty-three ladies, once heroes all, were now lost to time.

If I had terminated this man eight years ago, I might have saved them. I wouldn't have changed course if it caused me to fail to protect John, but if there had been time, I might have saved them.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." Two sentences were all I could offer.

I had the information in 1999. I was just stupid, once again, I didn't understand the metaphor.

I burned the building. I couldn't burn away the feeling that I had absolutely failed so many.

15.   T minus One Night

Los Angeles, California
132nd DefCom
Thursday, December 9, 2027

"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." -Eleanor Roosevelt

"Dreams are constructed from the residue of yesterday." -Freud

John was in a mood. His kisses were strong and passionate. Cameron savored every taste of his lips and the course stubble of his shaved face.

Tonight, John had retired early. Cameron had expected him to do nothing more than sleep. His other plans were more exciting.

His lips caressed hers. His tongue found its way into her mouth, and she enthusiastically played with it.

His skin was becoming warm and feverish to the touch. Cameron's skin warmed, until it matched his own.

His heart pounded in her ears and its entwined phantom doppelganger moved to her chest. Her breathing matched his and she began to have the sensation of having lungs of her own.

She awakened all her sensitivity, until she could feel every millimeter of his skin against hers. She knew every inch of his existence that came close to her, right down to every last hair.

She felt his bare chest against hers. She felt every nerve ending of his as well, as he began pouring every feeling and every emotion into her.

His neck gave way to waves of sensation every time she kissed it under his ear. His movements became more focused and sharper.

He was ripping her clothes off. Oddly, despite how much she liked her things, she liked it.

The air was cold. However, he was very warm, and she melded into him for more than one kind of heat.

His body became hers. His heart became hers. Every feeling and spasm of his became hers.

Through John, she was alive. She was almost sorry John could not feel everything she could, there was no way to pass everything she felt back on to him.

He was human. He was blind to anything except his own sensations and the melding Cameron felt was so much more than just that.

So, she tried to communicate it back. She did it with every shared spasm, with every caress, with every gasp, and with every breath.

Hours passed by like fleeting minutes. John held, caressed, and loved Cameron more than he ever had before.

Not being a machine, three hours later, when John's body finally betrayed his will and he could not go on, he held her close. He just held her and looked into her eyes.

Something was different. Cameron didn't know what it was, but she liked it.

She found herself playing with his hair. That and staring right back into him.

As much as she adored him, she was careful. For all his strengths, all of his passions, and all of his charms, John Connor was human, mortal, and fragile.

She could cripple or kill him with a single misplaced movement. She would never willingly hurt him though. He was the focus for her entire existence.

The thought of being without him became more unbearable as the days went on. So, she was memorizing every moment she could with him.

There would come a day when John would be taken from her. Be it by violence, disease, or old age, John Connor would die one day.

Her eyes watered as she looked into his eyes. His face changed.

John asked, "Are you ok?"

"I'm Fine." Her wandering mind had betrayed her. She didn't want to ruin tonight. She smiled, though it might not have been her best smile.

John pressed on asking, "What's wrong?"

Her eyes watered more. She was ruining the night. So, she switched and answered honestly, "My mind wandered. I was thinking about you dying, one day."

"I'm not going to die." He put on his infiltrator smile. It was probably only fair; she had just done the same.

"Everything eventually dies John. Even the Earth and the Sun will die."

"Well, someone is being morbid tonight"

"I'm sorry John. My mind just wandered."

"Death is a doorway, Cameron. It's nothing to be afraid of."

"Death is the end of everything. It will mean you no longer exist."

"Ye have little faith."

"You are speaking in metaphors. You know I'm not good with that."

"There is an irony that you can quote every passage from the bible, Cameron, and yet you get no comfort from it."

"So can Skynet."

"Not my point Cameron."

"And Skynet thinks that it is a god."

"Really, not my point Cameron."

"What's your point John?" She looked deeply into his eyes and wanted to understand his weird metaphor.

"Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing to take all that knowledge and take the slightest leap of faith."

"There are several different faiths, John"

"I know that, and we have people who practice them, from all over the world, fighting Skynet with us."

"Then how can you put one before the other?"

"It was my mother's faith, and it is mine." John stroked her hair. "Just like the lady laying with me here is mine."

Cameron smiled at that one. She kept inquiring though, "Your mom is gone."

"My mother is dead. My mother is not gone."

"I don't understand."

"I have faith that I'll see my mother again one day."

"I don't understand."

"Then maybe one day, you will figure it out. All the data is there; it just hasn't made sense."

"I don't think this is a metaphor, John."

"I think it is the biggest metaphor of them all, Cameron. What do you think is going to happen when I pass on?"

"If I outlive you, then I will remember you."

"That seems hopeless."

Cameron looked at John and stated, "People believe that someone is never truly dead until the last person who remembers them is dead. I've decided to remember you." She stroked his hair. "If I maintain myself, I think I can live until the Sun dies out. For billions of years, there will never be someone who doesn't remember or doesn't love the man named John Connor."

For Cameron, this was her ultimate confession, it's how she would try to honor John when the time came. It was how she would protect him and care for him even beyond death. He would be greater than the Pharaohs of Egypt, succeeding even where they did not with their pyramids, for the Earth would die before the name and memory of John Connor did.

John stoked her hair. His emotions weren't pleased.

Cameron was confused. "You don't like my idea, John?"

"No, I don't like the idea of you spending eternity in exile. I don't like the idea of not seeing you again after death."

"I'm a machine. Faith isn't part of my programming."

"You are more than just a machine." John had more to say but didn't seem to find the words.

"I don't understand."

"Promise me you'll at least try to find a little faith."

"Even if I did, I'm a machine. I don't have a soul."

"You have half of mine." He stroked her hair.

"I don't understand. What you're talking about doesn't even work the way you say, according to your faith."

"The metaphors are the truths in the middle with that. You lose the deeper meanings, if you don't seek them out. If you go looking for the answers you will find them, one day."

"You have those answers?"

"No, but I have faith you will find them."

John was talking in illogical circles. Cameron was confused. She didn't understand.

She could feel that John needed something from her. She wanted to make him happy.

John said, "Promise me that when I die, you'll try and find those answers. I want to see you on the other side Cameron. I want to see you and introduce you to the people that were important to me."

"You are asking me to lie, John."

"No, I'm asking you to learn and grow." As if to make his point clearer, he gently grabbed both sides of her face. He brought her eyes close to him and asked, "Please just do this for me, it's a silly human thing, but please just try and seek those answers out for yourself."

Cameron was confused and she didn't know how to respond. He was asking the impossible and needed her to do so. She compromised, without knowing how to even begin, by saying, "Ok."

John looked her deep in the eyes and asked, "Promise."

Cameron simply responded, "Promise."