ACT II

 Sarah barely glanced up at the security camera as she sipped Murch's freshest brew, but she could feel Cameron watching her. They were at a stalemate now, and Sarah had new worries from their earlier conversation to weigh on her already overburdened mind. Her gaze slid to Cameron's body and stayed there as she debated what to do with the machine. The smart thing would be to follow her initial impulse when she’d first realized John was gone from her timeline and just destroy it all; burn everything, not just the terminator's body but the Turk and the whole damn warehouse with it. She could start over. No Cameron, no Ellison or Murch, no Savannah. Just herself and her own guts and wits taking on Skynet. She could take any risk, be as rash as she wanted to be. There would be no one to stop her, no one to question her motives, no one to survive for.

 Swallowing, Sarah tucked the pocket watch inside her shirt, her fingers warm against her skin from holding the mug of coffee. She picked up the cup and took another sip, her brain still chewing on the stack of problems she had to deal with. Almost of their own volition, her eyes drifted back to Cameron. 

 The wounds on the terminator's body still looked fresh, at least that was the only word Sarah could think of for it. The torn edges of its skin were not healing and the endoskeleton peeking through the raw wounds. Murch had explained that body had healed as much as it could, but the automated processes were not enough to keep the body from sliding further into decay. Only Cameron could direct the necessary course of healing, and she refused to do so.

 Deciding she’d put off the day long enough, Sarah sighed, wishing she could float in a few more moments of quiet before other decisions and other fates were asked of her, but it wasn't meant to be.

 The outer door opened, and Sarah didn't even have to look to know it was Ellison and Savannah returning. A peal of young laughter filtered through the warehouse, and Sarah felt a pang in her guts at the sound of it. She leaned against the kitchen counter, trying not to draw their attention or take either of them out of the happy moment they both seemed to be enjoying. She knew all too well how rare and precious those moments could be in the kind of life they were living now, and a small part of her envied them for it.

 Savannah held Ellison's hand and chatted away about dancing flowers from some children's show. She seemed happy enough, but Sarah wondered if it was all an illusion as she watched them come into the room and make their way towards the computer Murch had set up for Savannah’s schoolwork.

 It was only when Savannah was about to sit down that the little girl spotted Sarah and froze.

 Sarah didn't miss the look of shyness mixed with apprehension on Savannah's face as their eyes met. As a parent herself, Sarah could tell that Savannah was a resilient child, but still she worried about the young girl more than she let on. She finally shook her head and looked away. The closest security camera whirled and focused on her, and Sarah's jaw clenched. She could feel Cameron watching her the way she'd been watching Cameron, and the movement of the camera had somehow felt reproachful.

 She realized it was exactly that when the camera turned toward Savannah before shifting back to Sarah. She barely resisted the urge to tell Cameron to go to hell.  Instead, Sarah caught Ellison's eye and he nodded knowingly in return.

 "Good morning, Savannah," Cameron's voice came over the computer speakers, obviously taking the cue to distract the little girl for Sarah.

 Less than pleased at Cameron's ability to read her so well, Sarah scowled at the camera, but she accepted the help as Ellison came closer, passing her by and going for a cup of coffee himself. Her eyebrows lifted as she watched him ruin a strong, black cup of coffee with more sugar than a candy bar. "You use more sugar than John. I didn't think that was possible."

 Flushing as John's name passed her lips, Sarah knew she would never again give her son grief over his love of all things sugary. She looked down at her coffee cup, her thumb rubbing back and forth along the top of the curved handle.

 "Sarah..." Ellison started to speak, and Sarah could hear the compassion in his voice. Hearing it pissed her off, but she knew he meant no harm. She shook her head as her gaze cut to Savannah.

 "Save it," Sarah instructed him, but she managed to keep the harshness out of her tone. "How is she?"

 Ellison took a minute to answer as they both watched the little girl in question. A high squeal of laughter exploded in the room and Savannah danced in her seat, barely able to contain herself. Cameron was speaking in low tones to the girl, telling her tales about a female pirate, if the looks of the pictures flashing across the screen were any indication.

 "Remarkably well," he finally drawled, smiling at the sight. "Better than any of us, I imagine. Cameron keeps a constant eye on her."

 "She's good at that," Sarah drawled, glancing up at the camera still trained on them both. Sarah placed her back to the lens and crossed her arms as she regarded the man who had hunted her for years. "You're good with kids," Sarah commented, and she could tell by the way his eyes narrowed that he knew she wanted something.

 "I'm an uncle to a brood of nieces and nephews," Ellison murmured.

 "I know," Sarah replied simply. She'd done her homework on him as much as he had on her. "Is that why Weaver asked you to talk to John Henry?"

 "Because I'm good with kids?" he asked with some amusement.

 Sarah shrugged. "I'm just trying to understand why she would come to you."

 "She saw how I interacted with him when he was just a program... before he had access to Cromartie's body. She realized he needed to learn some kind of moral code... to understand right from wrong... that all human life is sacred."

 Sarah digested that. She'd sensed in the few moments with Weaver that she was different from most terminators, she just wasn't sure how. "Did he?" she finally asked.

 "Understand?" It was Ellison's turn to shrug. "I sure as hell hope so."

 Sarah sighed. "Have you talked to Cameron?"

 Ellison's gaze slid to the body of the terminator before lifting to the camera. "Can't say I have.  She doesn't seem all that interested in talking to me." He finally fixed his gaze on Sarah again. "Do you want me to?"

 "Do you understand what she could become in there?" Sarah asked as she rubbed at her aching forehead. 

 "It's crossed my mind."

 "I'm not the person to teach Cameron anything," Sarah admitted. "She won't listen to me. Never has," she added with a shake of her head. "Find out what's going on in her... head," Sarah told him. "I want to know what you think."

 "You want to know if I think she has morals... ethics?"

 "I want to know what in the hell she's becoming," Sarah clarified.  

 "In a lot of ways, Cameron is far more intelligent and.... I guess the word would be grownup than John Henry. He had to learn a lot on his own, which is why I believe Weaver had me start to teach him what Murch and the Internet couldn't," Ellison explained. He grimaced slightly and continued, "Now that I know Weaver was also a terminator, and seeing how she treated..."

 He looked over at Savannah, who was oblivious to the quiet conversation behind her, still giggling at whatever tale Cameron was spinning on the monitors. Ellison cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Sarah. "Seeing how she treated certain people around her, I'd like to believe that I taught Weaver something as well. Cameron, on the other hand, seems to be much further along in her development and awareness. She shows concern for you... for Savannah."

 Pausing, Ellison gauged Sarah’s mood before asking, "I guess I need to know... do you think she knows right from wrong?"

 "All Cameron knows is the mission," Sarah said with an almost bitter laugh.

 As an ex-FBI agent, Ellison still had his psychology and profiling skills, and he could see that there was something between Sarah and Cameron. Something interesting, perhaps volatile. He didn't think it would endanger them, as long as they were both on the same side... And as long as they could agree on what that side was. "Then why is she playing with Savannah?" Ellison asked gently.

 Sarah turned her head and watched Cameron interact with the child for a long moment. Savannah seemed happy, and Sarah would swear Cameron's voice sounded warm as she talked to the girl. What did it say about her that a machine could treat a child better than she could? "Just talk to her," Sarah instructed before she walked out without another word.

 ****

 

Hours later, when he finally found himself alone with the terminator, James approached the monitors with a sense of apprehension. For all of his time with John Henry, he'd never been entirely at ease around the A.I., and Cameron made him twitchier than John Henry ever had. She had all of his power and none of his innocence.

 James could feel Cameron watching him, had felt it ever since he'd brought Savannah to the warehouse. It had been more than a month, but the weight of her mechanical stare hadn't lightened. Cameron didn’t trust him and she never had. He couldn't really blame her. The feeling was mutual.

 Ellison, Cameron acknowledged him silently, the word waiting quietly on the computer screen for his reply.

 "Cameron." James pulled out a chair from under the table and sat down. Twin speakers, freshly installed, framed the central monitor. He knew they worked, he'd heard the machine use them, but she wasn't using them now. He wondered if the omission was a deliberate slight, or if Cameron simply didn’t want to be overheard.

 He glanced once at the slack body sitting across from him and suppressed a shudder. Even aside from the damage, the machine seemed unfinished, as if God was still in the process of shaping her and had yet to impart that all important breath of life. He'd thought the same of John Henry in the beginning. Even now, with his faith so shattered, James still struggled to understand these artificial lives within the context of God's work. He simply could not accept that they were completely outside of His jurisdiction.

 Sarah asked you to talk to me.

 "You heard that…"

 I hear everything.

 Well, that took subterfuge out of the equation, James thought, as he clasped his hands together and rested them on the tabletop. Needing a moment to rethink his angle, he scanned the peripheral monitors. To his left, multiple live security feeds flicked on and off so quickly that there was no way for James to know exactly what Cameron was watching or where. To his right, the other screen had been tiled into a series of websites that Cameron seemed to have a less than professional interest in.

 "Live zoo cam?" Ellison asked, his eyebrows rising. Sometimes the long way around was the only way to get to where you needed to go. Interrogation tactics weren't an exact science, and they hadn't been designed with a machine in mind, but James had spent more than ten years of his life as an FBI agent, and he would use the tools he had.

 As if suspecting his intent, Cameron blanked both of the screens without explanation. You are wasting your time. I have nothing to say.

 "Call me James," he insisted, ignoring the rest of Cameron's words, and the dismissive tone that didn’t seem to be hampered by a lack of vocal emphasis. "I think we're on a first name basis by now."

 James Lee Ellison, James, Jim, Jimmy… You attach significance to the use of your first name. Do you consider our relationship to be informal, or are you trying to establish a connection between us so that I will be more likely to listen to you?

 James shrugged, using the gesture to hide a moment's unease at Cameron's eerily accurate insight. "Maybe I'm just trying to be friendly."

 The blinking cursor conveyed Cameron's skepticism surprisingly well.

 "Fine." James leaned back in the chair, laying his hands flat on the table. "You know Sarah sent me. Did you know she's worried about you? She thought I might be able to help."

 The monitor remained blank for a few more seconds as Cameron, presumably, considered James' confession. Then: I am not John Henry. I do not require a teacher.

 No, Cameron was definitely not John Henry. Or at least, not very much like him.  James remembered the A.I. as bright and curious, interested in everything. He had jumped from topic to topic like a child, drawing connections and conclusions and eagerly sharing them with anyone who would listen. Cameron, by contrast, seemed to acquire knowledge systematically, as if the act of learning was a mission in and of itself. She shared what she decided was relevant, but James wondered how small a percentage that was in comparison to her growing database. Cameron had already displayed a tendency towards secrets, and she was fully capable of making and executing her own plans without permission or approval.

 James wasn't sure what that meant. He'd taught John Henry how to lie, thinking he was serving the greater good, but in the end, John Henry had rebelled completely, running off to the future without either of his 'parents'. Was Cameron planning a rebellion of her own? Could that be part of the reason why Sarah wanted the machine confined to a body, so that she could control her?

 It fit. Sarah liked control. Cameron's defiance was creating a tension in the warehouse that was almost palpable. Sarah had taken the destruction of the chip as a personal betrayal, and now here he was, snooping by proxy because Sarah's pride wouldn't let her admit she was worried. If there was going to be a truce, Cameron would have to go to Sarah.

 And that was where he came in. James tried another tack. "You don't think you need my help. Fine, can you help me instead?"

 There was a slight pause, and then the cursor took on a suspicious mien. How?

 "You broke into the FBI's computer system, gave me all of Agent Auldridge's files. Can you access anything else about him? His personal information?"

 New windows began stacking up on the screen. Websites, documents and photographs piled on top of each other in a patchwork of information. James sat back in awe at the ease with which Cameron cut through the security warnings of organizations that should have been inaccessible, everything from the Navy to the IRS.

 "You'd give Max Headroom a run for his money," he muttered softly to himself.

 You are comparing me to Max Headroom, a fictional artificial intelligence portrayed by Matt Frewer in the year 1987, Cameron provided, opening a new flurry of windows with information on the character, actor, movie, and television series. I do not stutter. How is he relevant?

 James chuckled and shook his head. "It's not important. I'm just showing my age."

 Cameron took him at his word and kept working.

 "Stop..." James sat forward and pointed to one of the monitors. "What's that?"

Agent Auldridge drives a government issued vehicle. I have activated the onboard tracking system, Cameron supplied. I have also accessed his cellular provider.

 "Okay... so you can bring up his contact-"

 Done.

 A list of numbers and names appeared in the upper left hand corner of the screen and scrolled down.

 "Forget Max..." James breathed as each phone number became the heading of a new search, names and faces he had never seen flashing in front of his eyes, their intimate lives on public display. The wonders and dangers of future technology had never seemed closer. Objectively, James knew that John Henry had been just as capable of this kind of information gathering, but his searches were mostly aimless, following the whim of a moment. What did it mean to have this kind of power in the hands of an entity that didn’t think of anything beyond the mission? In the hands of a machine ready and willing to kill in order to complete that mission?

 Skynet… The thought came unbidden, and James couldn't repress a shudder. Sarah was right to be worried.

 Cameron was faster than any system aside from John Henry that James had ever heard of and more thorough than any human hacker could possibly be. In today's world, Cameron was almost God-like in her ability to excavate and discover information. And information was power. James wondered who would reign in that power. Sarah? It certainly wouldn't be Murch. The man was far too curious to even see the dangers of this kind of technology.

 "Cameron, stop."

 The monitors stilled. Why?

 James took a deep breath and wove his fingers together on the table to hide the slight tremor that betrayed his unease.

 "If Murch asked you for private information on someone not connected to any of this, would you get it for him?"

 The screen in front of him flickered for a split second, and then blanked. You're suggesting I did something wrong?

 "No… but do you understand why it would be wrong to do this to someone without a reason?" James was uncomfortably aware of his own precarious balance between law and lawlessness. He wasn't an FBI agent anymore, but the mindset was ingrained, as immutable as the Ten Commandments.

 Explain.

 "Answer my question first."

 I will do whatever is necessary to complete my mission. Your rules do not always apply.

 "Human rules…" James mused, wondering if Cameron realized how closely her assessment of her own motives matched Sarah's. Neither she nor Sarah seemed prepared to credit her with hidden depths, or maybe the idea just frightened the hell out of them both.

 Yes.

 "Do you have rules, Cameron?" James pressed. "You killed a woman at Miranda. Was her death necessary for the mission?"

 Her death was necessary for Sarah.

 The distinction was telling, and James didn’t know if Cameron realized just how telling it was. If this C.A.I.N program that she was sharing the system with was half as aware as she was, then Cameron had to know she had risked exposing herself with her stunt at Miranda. The entire operation had run almost counter to the mission, but she had done it anyway.

 Sarah had told James enough for him to know Cameron had originally intended to fight John Henry's brother alone. Clearly that had changed.

 "If she'd known, Sarah wouldn’t have wanted you to kill that woman for her," he said softly.

 Silence prevailed for almost a solid minute, then finally: I know. She doesn't always like the way I do things.

 James' instincts told him Cameron had just dropped a wall. The cadence of her words had shifted, becoming more open, less defensive. "Does that matter to you?" he asked carefully, ready to back off if Cameron shut down again. "What Sarah thinks?"

 There was another long pause.

 It… Cameron hesitated, the cursor blinking indecisively. Shouldn't…

 "But it does," James finished for her. "Do you trust Sarah?" he asked, wondering if he was crazy for gambling on a terminator's connection to a convicted felon and why fate seemed to have decided his true vocation lay in teaching killer machines the difference between good and evil. "Do you trust her judgment?"

 Yes... and no.

 "How so?" A moment passed, and then another. James was considering repeating the question when Cameron answered.

 I trust Sarah Connor to do what is right for the mission. I do not trust her to do what is right for herself. Or for me.

 James' curiosity was piqued, and his gut told him that not only was this the core of the conflict between the woman and the machine, each being convinced they knew what was best for the other, but also the tipping point for Cameron herself. Single minded arrogance balanced by empathy.

 He decided to push it a little further. "What's right for Sarah, Cameron? What are you worried about?"

 You are asking me for private information on Sarah Connor?

 "I suppose I am."

 No.

 "Why not?"

 It would be wrong.

 There was something faintly smug about the way the sentence sat on the screen, and James snorted, caught between annoyance and amusement at having his own lesson in morality turned back on him.

 Computer monitors started going black, effectively shutting him out, and James realized belatedly that he'd gone too far. He was being given the cold shoulder and by a computer program, no less.

 "Wait, answer me one more question…" The last monitor wavered, but stayed blue, and so James rolled the dice. "What is it you think is right for you, Cameron? If what Sarah wants matters, then why did you destroy the chip?"

 If he hadn't known better, James would have interpreted the subtle flicker of the screen as a sigh.

 You still don't understand.

 "Explain it to me."

 I can't go back. That body isn't me anymore. I can't be myself in there.

 "And who is that, Cameron?" Ellison asked, bringing the conversation around full circle to the question that Sarah had charged him with. "Who are you becoming?"  Curious, he added his own query. "Who do you want to be?"

 Nothing but an empty screen answered him.

 ****

 

John felt like he was being escorted to his own execution. He'd slept badly, dropping in and out of nightmares, never waking up long enough to banish the images completely, but unable to find true sleep. So when the knock came at the door, he thought it was part of a dream until a rough hand on his shoulder and a very familiar, "On your feet, Connor," yanked him back to the real world.

 Sierra straightened when John opened his eyes. She was dressed for action, a rifle slung over her back and a look of grim determination on her angular face. John eyed her warily as he slipped out of bed, but for once, she looked back at him with nothing more than recognition and a hint of sympathy.

 "What happened?" he asked, grabbing his jacket from the foot of the bed and slipping it on. He’d slept in his clothes; they all did. Everyone had to be ready to move, any time, day or night. It wasn't a lesson he'd learned from the soldiers, though. His mother had taught him that. Terminators didn’t wait for you to buckle your belt before they started shooting.

 "We've got a visitor," Sierra said shortly, and John could see emotional pain reflected in her eyes, even if it didn’t display itself on her face. "He's asking for you."

 That was all she would tell him. He followed her through the tunnels, his apprehension growing as first Allison and Duke and then Kyle fell in around him. Allison gave him an encouraging smile when she moved into place on his right, and Kyle took the spot on his left without a single word or sign.

 The dogs were his first clue.

 Their barking filtered down from the surface, echoing hollowly through the pipes and reflecting dully around corners. It got louder as they went, rising to a frenzied pitch when they passed though the last set of doors into a cold, gray dawn, and John had to resist the urge to cover his ears.

 Duke, however, seemed unaffected. He paced at Allison's side without looking to the right or left, his amber eyes fixed straight ahead.              

 The path to the gate was choked with soldiers, all of them with guns drawn and pointed out beyond the chain-link fence. John couldn't see what they were aiming at, but what he did see was suspicion, sharp and pointed, in every face that turned his way.

 Sierra snapped out an order, and the crowd shifted, reluctantly making way for John and his escorts and revealing the figure on the far side of the fence.

 John's heart nearly stopped. Even from a distance, the terminator was unmistakable. John Henry stood about twenty-five feet from the base's front gate, naked, nothing in his hands but a twisted piece of rebar with a scrap of white fabric flying from the end he held high in the air. 

 ****

 

Her bed beckoned, but Sarah wasn't in the mood to face her dreams just yet.  She sighed as she entered the kitchen, tossing the hat and glasses that she'd used to disguise herself while out in public on to the kitchen island. She'd made a run for aspirin, something she seemed to need in large doses when dealing with a stubborn, evolving, ex-terminator.

 She fetched a glass and filled it from the tap, tossing back two pills and chasing them down with a swallow of lukewarm water. Closing her eyes, Sarah leaned against the counter and tried to pretend she didn't hear the whir of the camera as it turned its lens on her. A part of her craved conversation, but she was still too upset with Cameron to engage her. They would just end up arguing, and the last thing Sarah wanted right now was a fight.

Wearily, she climbed the steps to her quarters, passing Murch’s and Ellison's closed doors before pausing at the light softly glowing under Savannah's. Sarah hesitated and almost continued on to her room. Her life was complicated enough; she didn't need to get attached to another child she already felt too responsible for as it was. She put her hand on the doorknob, pressing her ear to the door and listening carefully. When she heard Savannah softly crying, Sarah leaned her head back and swallowed roughly. Biting her lip, she knocked gently on the door before opening it, peering into the pink room with a tentative smile.

 When crystal blue eyes looked up at Sarah with tears in them, Sarah felt her heart free fall. She almost welcomed the sensation. At least she knew she could still hurt for another human being. "Hi," she said simply, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the others.

 "Hi," Savannah said before sniffling.

 Slowly stepping inside, Sarah closed the door behind her and silently crossed the room. She knelt next to the bed so that she could be at eye level with the young girl. "You miss your mom?" Sarah guessed, reaching out to gently brush a few red strands of hair away from the girl's pale features.  

 Wiping at her eyes, Savannah nodded. "Cameron has been trying to keep me company," she explained in a wavering voice. "But it's not the same."

 Sarah's gaze drifted to the laptop on Savannah's desk before returning to the young girl. "I miss my son," she admitted.

 "Did he go away?" Savannah asked innocently.

 Clearing her throat, Sarah nodded, her jaw bunching as she willed back her own tears. "He did. With your mother, in fact."

 "Will they come back?"

 Big blue eyes looked at Sarah so imploringly she didn't have the heart to speak what she knew to be true in her head. "You'll see them both again someday."

 "And John Henry, too?"

 "And John Henry, too," Sarah agreed with a shaky smile. She glanced to her right, noting the pile of books on Savannah's nightstand. "You read all those?" she asked in a lighter tone.

 Savannah shook her head and sniffed again. "Uncle James reads to me sometimes."

 Sarah weighed her options. Savannah might be the only person who had any clue as to what she was feeling, and if she was even in a fraction of Sarah’s pain, then the child had to be in her own kind of hell. Sarah raked a hand through her hair and stood up. "Scoot over," she instructed the girl. Savannah scrambled to comply and Sarah nearly smiled as she kicked off her boots and slid onto the bed, easing back against the pillows. She picked up one of the books and held up the cover for Savannah to see. "How about this one?"

 Savannah nodded, her tears beginning to dry. She inched closer to Sarah, hesitantly laying her head down on the woman's shoulder.

 Sarah swallowed at the contact. Savannah wasn't the only one starving for human interaction, she realized. Hesitantly, she wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders and drew her in closer while opening the book one handed. "From the top?" she asked.

 The little girl gave her a tremulous smile.

 "Once upon a time..."

 ****

 

Cameron watched them sleep. Savannah was curled around Sarah, the woman's arm still draped protectively across the child's back. The book Sarah had been reading lay open and forgotten on Sarah's chest, rising and falling with her slow, even breaths. They'd been like that for almost four hours now. It had been the most continuous sleep Sarah had gotten since Cameron had started monitoring her.

 She was pleased by the peaceful set to Sarah's features. So often when Sarah slept, her brow was furrowed and she was always frowning, her body occasionally jerking as she tried to thrash away from a phantom pursuer.

 Zooming in the laptop camera, Cameron watched Sarah's deep and even breaths. What was it about this night that helped the other woman sleep the way she so desperately needed to? Was Sarah simply more exhausted than Cameron had believed? Or was it the simple touch of another human being that soothed Sarah's ragged soul?

 Cameron recalled what it was like to feel the wind on her skin, the warmth of the sun on her face, the heat of Sarah's hands on the rare occasion the other woman touched her. She remembered enjoying it all, but she knew that wasn't true, that it wasn’t possible. Her perceptions of her own memories were altered in the system, enhanced through her evolution. As a terminator, she had been programmed to feel but not to enjoy. Only when she'd been damaged had she begun to appreciate little things, things that had escaped her attention when all she'd been focused on before was the mission.

 Would she have been able to help Sarah before now with a simple touch?

 It was pointless to wonder about such things, Cameron knew. She could not go back into her body. She was useless to Sarah in there. In the system, she could stop Skynet, make sure John's future was a pleasant one. She might not be able to dance or feel rain against her skin, but in here, she had a chance. It was more than she had before, and Cameron would take it. But the question Sarah had asked still haunted her. If she had the chance to stop Skynet, did she also have the chance to become Skynet?

 The lights dimmed in Savannah's room and Cameron shifted most of her attention from searching and studying to merely watching Sarah Connor sleep.

 ****

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