quietus | inspector boxer

act 3

John watched her as they drove.

Cameron could feel his eyes on her profile, and she wondered what he was thinking. He'd once had an uncanny ability to read her, as she had him, but that closeness was gone, leaving them more like strangers than friends. The bond they'd once shared was in tatters; Cameron had evolved beyond the artificial devotion to him, the only purpose she'd ever known, and John had trouble accepting the fact. It was obvious that he resented her unexpected closeness with his mother, and she couldn't deny her fury at watching him take Sarah for granted.

They'd been orbiting each other ever since his return, testing the boundaries that defined their new relationship, and his scrutiny of her now made her self-conscious. Cameron struggled against the urge to snap at him, her eyes trained on the Sarah's profile in the car ahead.

“I’m sorry.”

Cameron glanced away from the road at the sound of John’s hoarse voice. He looked like hell, as Sarah would say, bruises forming on his chin and around one eye. She suspected more would soon follow. Vaughn, her thoughts reminded her. Another way she’d failed Sarah tonight. With everything she was feeling held carefully in check, she returned his stare blankly.

“I know... I mean...” John swallowed. “In the future, Sierra indicated you were close. That you and mom raised her. I know you only had a few weeks to get to know her but...”

“It was enough,” Cameron murmured, her gaze drifting back to the road.

“Sometimes that’s all you need,” John agreed. He was quiet a moment, watching the taillights of the doctor’s car in front of them. “You would have been proud of her. She was...” he tripped over the past tense and how easily he used it. “She was a great leader.”

Cameron felt her jaw tighten at the reminder of the loss, but his words lifted a fraction of the heaviness she hadn’t been able to shake from her shoulders. “I know.” Cameron hadn’t needed to see Sierra in her future to know what kind of a leader she and Sarah could produce. She glanced at John again, feeling a tiny thread of the bond they had lost trying to weave itself back together. “So were you.”

John’s shoulders relaxed marginally, the difference so slight only a machine would have noticed it. “Thanks,” he said softly, turning his attention to the scenery flashing by outside his window for a moment before he was drawn back to Cameron. “Mom’s really pissed at you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Cameron quipped deliberately, a classic John Connor response, though shorter and less sulky than his usual delivery. 

The slightest of smirks appeared, and John actually looked at Cameron, seeming to see her for the first time since they’d gotten into the car. She really had changed, he thought, and her old parroting trick only made the difference more obvious. She’d matured, both physically and emotionally, her features bearing the lines of that experience. Cameron was grieving, John realized, and he felt his smile fade. “You kept Sierra a secret, Cameron. You know how Mom feels about secrets.” He frowned. “I’m not so fond of them myself.”

Bitterly, Cameron wondered what John would think of the secret she and Sarah had been keeping from him since he’d gotten back, but she stayed silent. Maybe it didn’t even matter now. If she and Sarah were... Cameron’s thoughts shied away from the end of that sentence. She couldn’t handle that possibility right now.

“Why?” John asked, breaking into her thoughts. His interest surprised Cameron a little, she’d thought he wanted as little to do with her connection to his mother as possible.

“Sierra asked me to,” she replied, the sharpness in her voice startling them both.

“Do you know why?” John prodded.

Feeling some of her hostility fade as she realized John wasn’t angry with her or accusing her of anything, Cameron stared straight ahead, wishing she could get a glimpse of Sarah in the car up ahead. “She knew.”

“Knew?”

“That the universe corrects itself.”

John drew in a slow breath that hitched slightly, drawing Cameron’s focus back on him. “You mean... two versions of the same person can’t exist in the same time.”

“Not for long. Yes.”

John considered all the people that had come and gone in his life, realizing how many fit Cameron’s description. “What about you? The universe hasn’t corrected you.”

Cameron considered that. “There is only one me.”

“There’s Allison,” John started to argue.

“I’m not Allison,” Cameron corrected him almost before he had finished. 

John searched her face, seeing very little of the woman he’d come to love in the machine sitting next to him. “No,” he realized with a strange sense of relief. “You’re not.”

****

The morning sun slanted in through the windows, feeling unnaturally hot on Sarah’s back as she lingered in the doorway. John stepped past her without hesitation, striding across the hanger to scan the walls. It was strange to think he had known Sierra for far longer than Sarah had. He had spoken to her, sat beside her, and fought alongside her in the future. They were practically siblings, she realized. Was that how John saw them? Did he feel like he’d lost a soldier or a sister today?

The scent of engine oil was pungent as Sarah drew in a slow breath, her green eyes sweeping over a hanger wall covered with pictures and drawings. The scene eerily reminded her of a basement, of another wall, one with the names and dates written in blood. 

She didn’t know what she was looking at; she only knew it did nothing to ease the constant ache that felt like it was squeezing the breath out of her. She wasn’t sure who John had lost today, but she had lost a daughter. She had lost her chance to know the woman her daughter had become, a chance that, given her life expectancy, she might never have again.

Cameron stood mere inches away, their shoulders nearly touching. Sarah could feel her hovering, her anxiety, worry, and pain a mirror image of Sarah’s own. A part of her wanted to turn and sink into Cameron’s arms, wanted to feel that comforting strength as Cameron drew her in close. Some hungry part of Sarah’s soul wanted to just forget the betrayal and let go of the anger. Her need for the terminator pulled at her, but Sarah refused it. As much as losing Sierra was killing her, Cameron’s betrayal made it worse.

Finally risking a glance, Sarah found herself riveted on Cameron’s profile. She was staring at the wall, her dark eyes darting from image to image as Felicia lingered in the background, letting them all take the room in. Cameron was stricken by what she was seeing, but Sarah doubted anyone else would know that but her. She had learned to read every flicker on Cameron’s features, every movement of that body that she knew as intimately as her own.

Sarah had gotten her wish. Her lover was hurting like hell, and far from being as satisfying as she’d hoped it would be, Sarah found it took more effort than she would have believed not to offer some sliver of the solace she was so desperate for herself, and she cursed herself for the weakness.

John moved closer to the wall, his fingers running over the collage. Some of the images were photographs, others were drawings mixed in with newspaper and magazine articles. John stumbled when he saw a carefully clipped announcement of the birth of Kyle Reese.

“What does it mean?” Sarah asked, needing some explanation of what she was seeing and, damnably, needing to hear Cameron’s voice.

Cameron turned to look at her but wouldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s the story of a life.” When Sarah shifted her attention back on the wall, Cameron greedily soaked in her features. “The people she knew and trusted... and the ones she didn’t.”

Sarah moved closer, spying a drawing that was clearly herself at an older age. The pads of her fingers rested next to the image as she took it in, marveling a little at Sierra’s talent and thinking that perhaps she should buy some art supplies. Sierra had drawn Cameron beside her, they were both smiling, and Sarah wondered when her daughter had captured what seemed to be a happy, content moment in their lives. She wondered if they would ever experience it now, and felt a stab of guilt. They, she and Cameron together, had obviously given Savannah some kind of happy childhood, and it would be tragic if Sierra’s death destroyed something so precious. She glanced over at Cameron again, feeling the familiar weight of all the possible futures settle on her shoulders.

This version of herself had died to save Savannah, Sarah realized. Her end hadn’t come from cancer; it had come on the receiving end of a bullet, keeping her daughter safe. “The way it should have been,” she whispered.

John peeled the birth announcement from the wall and folded it before tucking the small slip of paper into his jacket pocket for safekeeping. There were other images of his father and Derek lining the walls, some of them in recent photographs and others from the artist’s memory. John made a vow to take them all, suspecting Sierra wouldn’t mind. This way he could have something of her as well as his uncle and father, something he wouldn’t have thought he wanted until now.

He slowed when he came to a series of faded newspaper clippings, frowning at the face that stared back at him across time. According to the small, neatly printed date in the corner, decades had passed since the images had been taken, and John felt his world tunnel and tilt. He leaned his hand against the wall to steady himself, sucking in a sharp breath that made his ribs spasm. He was too stunned to notice.

His mother’s hand on his shoulder startled him. “What?” Sarah asked, ever tuned to his wants and needs.

John shook his head, barely able to articulate what he was seeing. He could hear the steady thump of Cameron’s boots as she came closer, steering clear of his mother to stand on his opposite side. John peeled the clipping away, feeling part of it tear, but the picture remained intact.

Sarah gently took the page from him, staring down at the date and picture before lifting her gaze to meet Cameron’s. It shook her, almost as much as her son, to see a face looking back at her that was simultaneously familiar and unknown. Her jaw tightened as her grip on her son did the same. “Anybody you know?” she asked Cameron, her voice low.

Cameron took the page, resisting the urge to let her fingers brush Sarah’s. She looked down into a mirror image of her own features, frowning when she saw the date and the caption.

Allison Young to wed David Herman. June 16, 1946.

The picture was of a smiling couple posing for the camera. Palm trees dotted the background. Cameron stared at the photograph for a long time before looking up to meet John’s anguished gaze. “It’s Allison,” she murmured.

John shook his head. “I don’t understand. That says 1946...”

“You said the time machine malfunctioned... it sent you back... and Sierra.” Cameron said slowly.

“To here! To this time!” John snapped, his composure fraying. “It sent us all back here! What was she doing there?"

Cameron shook her head, her lips pressed into a hard line. “Any answer would just be speculation,” Cameron murmured, her eyes briefly meeting Sarah’s. She still felt the jolt she so often did when their gazes locked, but now it was coupled with pain.

“Then speculate,” John spat, his grief turning instantly to anger. He glanced at her profile and had to turn away, the resemblance between them suddenly strong. But she was there, not Allison. Allison would never be with him again.

“Time travel is not a perfected science, even in the future. The result of the malfunction and instability of the technology may have sent her back to the 1940s.”

“But she was with me in the time bubble. She should be here!”

Cameron shrugged her shoulders helplessly as John took the page from her hand and ran his thumb over Allison’s smiling features. “I thought she was here,” he said weakly. “I thought I just had to find her...”

Loneliness welled up, and tears began to pool in his eyes. He had been trying to prepare himself for the worst, but this... Finding her dead would have been hard enough, but finding out that he would never find her at all, that she had lived her life without him, cut through him like a knife. “It’s not fair,” he whispered. “Why do I have to be alone?”

Sarah felt like something sharp and serrated had just plunged into her heart. Her breath caught in shared pain, and forgetting everything else between them, she gripped John behind his neck and pulled him close. He began to sob, gut-wrenching sounds that Sarah could feel echoes of in her own soul.

Cameron stepped away to let them have their moment, her gaze reading over the section of the wall about Allison Young. She’d lived a full life, dying at the age of 83 surrounded by her friends and family. Cameron noted the names of her children. Derek. Kyle. John.

Sierra.

For a moment, the wall blurred, and Cameron had to look away. At least she hadn’t destroyed this version of Allison. The universe had taken pity on this version. Allison Young had known mercy that fate had shown to no one else.

“Is he all right?” Felicia asked, drawing cautiously closer.

Cameron nodded. “He was just reminded of... someone he lost.” She met the doctor’s blue eyes. “Thank you, for bringing us here.”

“It’s what she wanted,” Felicia told her. She swallowed and pointed to the corner where pictures and writing migrated from one wall to the next. “That’s the stuff that made me nervous,” she indicated with a dip of her head.

Cameron moved closer, her gaze scanning the photos and documents. Her eyes landed on one photograph and hardened. Vaughn. She knelt, taking in everything that had been posted on the wall from the floor up. It was all about Kaliba. Plans for their AI projects and their robotics’ division. In the middle of everything, Sierra had written two letters on the wall and circled them. Cameron felt her jaw clench at their implications.

H.K.

“Hunter Killer,” Sarah murmured over Cameron’s shoulder. “One of them came through Weaver’s office at Ziera Corp.”

Glancing back, Cameron let her gaze linger on Sarah’s face before sliding past to see Felicia handing a sitting John a glass of water. “Is he all right?”

“He’s hurting. We all are.” Sarah drew in a slow breath. “Did you know this was here? That she was collecting intel on Kaliba?”

Cameron shook her head. “She never told me about this. She rarely spoke about the future.” She stared at Sarah. “I wanted to tell you...” she whispered, hastening to explain now that Sarah was willing to talk to her.

Sarah stepped back abruptly, cutting off the excuses she was not ready to hear. Moments flickered through her mind, flashes where she had sensed there was something Cameron wasn’t telling her. She didn’t need Cameron to confess all the times she had considered coming clean and hadn’t. Honesty demanded more than good intentions. “It doesn’t matter.”

Dropping her eyes, Cameron turned back to the wall, staring at the words in front of her until her vision cleared and she could read them clearly. “Kaliba has kept their robotics division under the radar. I didn’t know they had gotten this far.”

“How did she?”

Cameron braved meeting her eyes again. One look was all Sarah needed. She nodded.

“Skynet,” Sarah murmured.

“A threat, at least,” Cameron acknowledged before frowning.

“What?” Sarah asked at the look.

“Allison was flung back the farthest, but Sierra had to be here longer than I thought to have gathered all of this. Months, maybe longer.”

Something unraveled in Sarah’s chest and she felt herself able to draw in a breath. “How long have you known she was here?”

“A few weeks,” Cameron admitted. “I know she didn’t come back when John did. It’s possible Weaver and John Henry could have come back months... even years before John returned.”

“Or months after,” Sarah mused. “Fucking time travel,” she scowled, hating how it twisted lives. “You got all this in your head, Tin Miss?” Sarah asked with a wave at the wall.

Cameron tried not to feel hope at the nickname that fell so easily from Sarah’s lips, suspecting the new intel on Kaliba and worry over Weaver’s plans had temporarily eclipsed her transgressions. “I do.”

“Then we should get back. Looks like we have work to do.” Sarah spun on her heel, walking past the wall without another glance until she came to a picture she hadn’t seen before. This one was a watercolor, simple but deliberate brushstrokes defining a familiar beach bungalow. She and Cameron leaned against the porch rail watching the sunrise, and a small child played in the waves, her hair a wash of bright copper against the blue. 

Sarah felt her throat close and the heat of fresh tears threatening her vision, but she reached up and peeled the image from the wall, folding it neatly and tucking it carefully into her back pocket.

“Sarah,” Felicia called to her before she could leave. Sarah hesitated in the doorway as the doctor came closer. “How’s the arm?” the doctor asked faintly.

Sarah blinked having to think for a moment to even realize what the doctor was asking about. Her left hand drifted up to cover the small surgical scar on bicep. “Fine,” she breathed, trying to keep her tone civil. “You were in on all this? On keeping her from me?”

Felicia sighed. “Sierra was wounded. It was the only way she would let me treat her. I didn’t like it, but I did what I had to do for my patient.”

“Why?” Sarah demanded, determined to get answers to questions she wasn’t ready to ask Cameron. “Why did she shut me out?”

“I don’t know,” the doctor admitted honestly. She cast a quick look over her shoulder as Cameron warily approached John. “I only know she was certain she was doing the right thing. I know she wanted to protect you.”

“Protect me? Is that what you call all this? Protecting me?”

“Sarah...” Felicia drew in another slow breath in the face of Sarah’s anger. “She knew this was going to happen. She didn’t want to cause you more pain.”

“I guess she failed then,” Sarah growled, pivoting on her boot to leave. She was startled when Felicia grabbed her arm and spun her back around.

“You missed out on knowing her,” Felicia admitted, tears collecting in her eyes. “But right now I wish like hell I hadn’t. As much as you hurt... Cameron and I knew her. We know what the world lost. So as unfair as all of this is for you... I promise you that you have the better end of this deal.”

Sarah stared at her before glancing back at John and Cameron. They were both watching her, unsure of what she would say or do next. “No one gave me a choice,” Sarah answered, her voice rough and breaking. “No one ever gives me a goddamn choice.” She pushed past the doctor and stumbled out into harsh sunlight, more tears falling against her will.

Rage and grief blossomed inside her, consumed her, and Sarah spun and punched the hanger wall, the thin metal caving but still sturdy enough to send pain jolting up through Sarah’s wrist and arm. It actually felt good, better than her misery, and Sarah pulled back to hit it again, but she found her wrist held in a vice-like grip. “Let me go, girlie,” she snarled.

“No.” Cameron’s voice was quiet in her ear. “This is not what she would have wanted.”

Sarah spun to face Cameron, nearly succeeding in wrenching her arm from Cameron’s hold. “Yeah? What about what I would have wanted? Like a chance to know her? Or to have you...” She sputtered to a stop for a second before spitting out, “You promised me.”

Cameron flinched but held her ground. “I promised her too,” she said simply, meeting Sarah’s eyes. “I didn’t know what to do,” she explained quietly, feeling all eyes upon her as she tried to make Sarah understand.

“You should have told me. I thought...” She broke off, shaking her head.

When she pulled on her arm again, Cameron released her reluctantly, watching as she stalked out of the hanger. Without a word, Sarah climbed into the truck and revved it, throwing it into reverse and leaving them all behind.

****

When the front door banged open, James went for his gun, his fingers curling around the butt as he swung the weapon around, drawing a bead on a figure he belatedly realized was Sarah Connor. She blew past him, moving with purpose up the stairs, without even a nod in greeting.

His heart thumping, James sank back into the couch and set the gun back on the coffee table. He expected Cameron and John to follow, but after a few minutes with no other dramatic entrances, he went to the door and looked out, spying only the empty truck in the drive. He glanced back toward the stairs as Sarah reappeared with two duffle bags slung over one arm and a sleepy Savannah in the other.

“What’s happened?” James asked, moving toward her.

“What hasn’t?” Sarah wondered under her breath. She faced him, stopping long enough for a short and terse explanation. “I need to clear my head. I’m taking Savannah. We’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“Clear your...” James swore as Sarah stepped around him and headed for the door. Savannah had already laid her head down on the woman’s shoulder, her eyelids drooping and her small hands fisting in Sarah’s leather jacket. “Sarah, wait,” James pleaded, grabbing her arm and holding her in place. “Where are John and Cameron? Are they meeting you?”

“Just watch the damn house,” Sarah ordered. “And if you haven’t burned that metal bastard in the shed then he better be dust by the time I get back.”

They both heard tires crunching gravel in the driveway, and Sarah’s features tightened in anger as she jerked her arm away from the former agent.

“Running away doesn’t solve anything,” James told her.

“It’s kept me alive this long,” Sarah pointed out. Movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn her head toward the door just as Cameron stepped through it. She shook her head before the terminator could utter a word. “No,” Sarah spat preemptively. “Just get out of my way.”

Cameron’s hand shot out and gripped the doorframe. The only way out was for Sarah to duck under, impossible with the child in her arms. “Dammit, Cameron.”

“You’re not leaving,” the terminator vowed, steely determination in her voice. “Weaver is out there.” Just the thought banished her grief and filled her with fear.

“Listen to her, mom,” John pleaded as he came up behind Cameron, leaving Felicia to sit behind the wheel of her car and watch the standoff. “We need to stay together right now.”

“Don’t talk to me about staying together,” Sarah said with a hint of disbelief. “You’re the one who wants to be anywhere but here.”

“Sarah,” James warned as John flinched.

Savannah merely tightened her grip on Sarah’s jacket, but she lifted her head to watch Cameron. Her other aunt wouldn’t even look at her. Cameron’s gaze was intent on Sarah and Sarah alone. “What’s wrong?” Savannah asked, feeling her voice quaver just a little, and swallowing to hide it.

Sarah reached up and let her hand drift through Savannah’s loose hair. “Nothing. We’re going to go to the beach for a few days.”

“It’s not safe,” Cameron snapped, oblivious to the startled look John shot her. “You’re upset and you are not thinking clearly...”

“And whose fault is that?” Sarah fired back, stepping toward Cameron until they were nearly toe-to-toe. “Cameron, get out of my way, or so help me...”

“You’ll what? Dismantle me?” Cameron stepped forward, letting go of the doorframe and forcing Sarah to retreat a step. “I...” She started to say a word she didn’t dare utter until she and Sarah were alone, and cursed the audience that made her hold it in. “I care about you...” she corrected, seeing the ghost of understanding in Sarah’s eyes. “Both of you.” Her gaze finally took in Savannah and lingered there for a long moment before drifting back to the green of Sarah’s eyes. “I’m not going to let you go alone.”

John watched his mother and the terminator in fascination, held spellbound by the angry energy he could feel snapping between them. He’d known they had become a team of sorts in his absence, that they relied heavily on each other now, but his mother had never seemed more betrayed by someone’s actions, not even some of his own. “Mom...” he murmured weakly, not sure what he wanted to say or stop her from doing.

“I need to get away from you,” Sarah bluntly replied, not really caring how much of her relationship she was exposing to the others in that moment.

“Aunt Sarah?” Savannah tugged on Sarah’s collar to get her attention, her stomach beginning to hurt as she realized her aunts were fighting in earnest. “Don’t be mad.”

A visible tremor worked its way through Sarah at her words, and even Cameron seemed to pale at the reminder of the woman who’d died in that very room hours before.

“Sarah,” James’ deep baritone drew everyone’s eyes on him. “Cameron is right. Weaver is still out there. You going off on your own is a bad idea.” As much as he hated the thought of Sarah and Savannah being in this house with a lurking Weaver, the notion that they could be alone with her somewhere else was even more terrifying.

Cameron nodded once before looking back at Sarah, an imploring look in her eyes.

Sarah wanted to give in. She wanted to let go of the rage that seemed to be eating her up inside, but her own stubborn will refused to yield. She shook her head again. “I can’t be in this house. Not right now.” She started past Cameron only to find herself gently thrust against the wall, Cameron’s body flush with her own.

Even in her anger, Sarah’s body responded to the siren’s call of Cameron’s touch. She soaked in her heat and curves, feeling the contact soothe some of her ragged edges.

“Cameron!” John blurted in surprise. He started forward, but James put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m not letting you go alone,” Cameron said again. Her fingers slipped inside the pocket of Sarah’s leather jacket and retrieved the keys to the truck. She could have stepped back then but she didn’t, watching in fascination as Sarah’s nostrils flared at their contact. “As much as you need to go... that’s how much I need to make sure you’re safe.”

“You should stay with John,” Sarah breathed, cursing her traitorous body and how much it wanted to stay right where it was.

“I’ll be fine, mom,” John promised, desperate for a little time to himself to process all that had happened. “I’ll see if Felicia will look at my ribs then I’ll get some sleep.” It was a half truth, but John knew it was what his mother needed to hear.

“All the more reason she should stay with you. You’re injured,” Sarah said, but her eyes were on the terminator holding her against the wall instead of her son. Their gazes fenced while Savannah watching them both carefully.  

John could hardly believe his mother wasn’t clawing at Cameron’s face to get away from her. He’d seen casual contact between the two since he’d come home, but he would never have imagined his mother allowing a machine the kind of liberties Cameron was taking with her right now. “I’ll be fine,” he said again, his voice full of conviction.

Reluctantly, Cameron stepped back, missing Sarah’s heat instantly. The other woman watched her warily. “I’ll stay outside,” Cameron promised. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

“I always know when you’re there,” Sarah said on a sigh.

James glanced at John, wondering if the young man truly knew what he was seeing between the two women. John’s brow was furrowed with confusion, and James suspected on some level that John was finally waking up to what was happening between his mother and the machine.

Cameron’s hesitation was brief, but Sarah didn’t miss it as Cameron slowly reached for Savannah. The child went willingly, wrapping her arms around Cameron’s neck and snuggling against her. Cameron closed her eyes at the contact, trying to get a hold of the mixed emotions that washed through her. When she looked at Sarah again, there was a hint of compassion in her eyes. It was almost worse than seeing her anger.

Without a word, Cameron pivoted on the heel of her boot and headed for the truck. Sarah lingered, watching them go before shifting her attention back on her son. She dropped her head. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “For what I said before...”

John came closer and drew her into a hug. “I know. I’m sorry for a lot of things, too.” He kissed her temple. “Go,” he urged. “Let Cameron keep watch. If Weaver had wanted me she would have come for me by now. Savannah, though...” John shook his head. “I’d just feel better with Cameron close.”

“That makes one of us,” Sarah breathed into her son’s neck, but something in her soul called her a liar. She leaned back and cupped his face with one hand. “Let Felicia check you over. We have a doctor around for once. Might as well take advantage.”

John nodded. “Be safe,” he told her as Sarah slowly made her way toward the door.

“No place is safe,” she reminded him with a bitter smile.

“Being with Cameron is as close as we can get.” John slid his hands in his pockets as his mother considered that.

“I used to think so,” she said simply before closing the door behind her.

****    

He felt useless, a sensation that was becoming uncomfortably familiar. Danny paced the small bedroom at his mother’s house, eager to do something, anything, but not having a clue what that would be. He’d watched two people die today: a man who had scared him to death, and a selfless stranger who’d given everything to save a woman he couldn’t help but despise. He’d begun, grudgingly, to accept that Sarah Connor hadn’t murdered his father, but she still carried the lion’s share of responsibility for his death. Danny wouldn’t, couldn’t, let that go the way his mother had.

A knock on the door made him pause. Terissa carefully opened the door and peered inside, offering her son a tired smile. “Hey,” she greeted. “You hungry?”

Danny knew it had been hours and hours since he last ate, but the thought of food made him nauseous. He shook his head.

“Danny,” Terissa began slowly.

“Why are you here?” Danny blurted suddenly, needing to know. “Why are you working with these people?”

Terissa blinked before taking a deep breath and straightening, as if she had expected the question for some time. “Who else can stop all of this, Danny?”

“Maybe we’re not supposed to stop it. Maybe this is supposed to happen. Did you ever think about that?”

“It’s the end of the world for everyone on this earth. How can I stand by?” Terissa shook her head, unsure how to explain something that seemed so obvious. “How can I not help?”

“Maybe they don’t need to be helped. Maybe they aren’t on the right side.”

His mother’s jaw tightened as she came the rest of the way in the room. He could see her love for him in her eyes, but it was mixed with disappointment. “We’re talking about computers, Danny. Machines. They tried to kill me,” she reminded him. “We can’t let them destroy the world.”

“Mankind will never stop advancing the machines, mom. You cut off one head and another will take its place. These people are fighting a losing battle.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that! Technology is what I do. They tried to stop them before and..." He reminded her, seeing in her eyes that she too was thinking about his father.

Terissa’s eyes glittered. “Danny, Sarah and her son may be the only things standing between mankind and the end of the world,” she said with conviction. “After all you’ve seen... after all you’ve learned... How can you just stand by and do nothing?”

“Dad died to stop the machines, but his death solved nothing. You’re working with one of the very things he gave his life to end.”

“Cameron is... different,” Terissa countered, unsure how to explain. “She’s helping us. Trying to stop Skynet.”

“For how long? That other machine down there, he was supposed to be helping too.”

His words sent a chill through Terissa. She trusted Sarah, and trusted Cameron because Sarah did, but recent events showed that they could make mistakes with regards to the machines. Still, she had seen the evolution of the terminator, the bonds that had grown between Cameron and Sarah, and she had a hard time seeing Cameron as a threat. Even that idea bothered her, though, because if Cameron could evolve beyond her programming, could other machines as well?

With a heavy sigh, she sat down beside Danny on the bed, catching his hand in hers. “I have to trust someone. Your father... Miles trusted Sarah. He went out that night to help her.”

“He was a fool,” Danny retorted. “He left us to follow her, and it got him killed. The same thing is going to happen to us. You just don’t see it.”

Dropping her head, Terissa closed her eyes. Her son had made similar arguments in the past to justify his hurt and anger. He had never forgiven his father for leaving them that night with a promise to be home in a few hours, a promise he broke. She remembered Danny standing at the window all night, his face pressed up against the glass, watching and waiting for his father to return. He never truly recovered from the blow of his father’s death, his feeling of safety and security shattered by the first bullet that Sarah had fired into their home.

“Your father died to stop Skynet. He didn’t want to be the man who invented the machine that would destroy the world.” Terissa raised her head to look at her son, feeling a sick disappointment thread through her as she saw a stubborn set to his jaw. He had never accepted the reasons his father had died. Part of his decision to take the job at Kaliba had been in redeeming his father’s work, and she wasn’t sure that his escape from that company meant he had left that mission behind. “Is that what you want to do, Danny? Do you want to take up the legacy Miles died to avoid?”

Danny turned to look at her like a wounded animal.

“You either fight to honor your father’s sacrifice or you make it meaningless. Your choice.”

“It’s not that simple, mom,” he answered weakly.

“Then explain it to me,” she pleaded as Danny slipped his fingers from hers and stood, staring out the window with his back to her. “Danny?” she finally asked after several minutes of silence. When he still said nothing, she stood, staring into his eyes reflected in the glass. “The world was supposed to end more than a decade ago, Danny, but we’re still here. Don’t be so damn sure of yourself and your precious technology.” Without another word, Terissa turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

“You don’t understand,” Danny said softly. He sank down on to his bed, staring down at hands that felt useless without a keyboard under them, unaware that he was being watched.

<<< Back to Act 2

Continue Reading >>>