* Epilogue *

"You are quiet, John.", she stated a fact, looking at him.

They were lying on the bed, in his bedroom, John staring at the ceiling, Cameron staring at him. There was nothing extraordinary in that, in the last quarter-century they spent many evenings like that, talking about almost everything. Other times they would say nothing at all, John happy with her just being there. Today, however, he felt... different. The last few days took their toll on him.

"I'm thinking...", he whispered. "about many things.", he added, stroking her hair lazily.

He looked at her. She was wearing a normal, black t-shirt and military trousers – things she wore on many days, during everyday life in the base. In complete contrast to times before Judgement Day, when she could experiment with her taste and fashion sense – which at the time seemed pretty funny to him, considering what she was. She always seemed concerned about the way she looked and he sometimes wondered if she missed all of that. If she could miss all of that. Nowadays, her choice of attire was limited to a few worn t-shirts, four pairs of trousers, two skirts and several leather jackets. Perhaps that's why she steals my shirts so often, crossed his mind. Whichever it was, she never complained.

As far as John was concerned, her clothing didn't matter at all. Lying here now, as she was, with auburn hair spilled over the pillow, flawless skin and those huge, deer eyes staring at him without a single word she was more beautiful to him then ever before.

"You are sad." she picked up again.

"A little, Cam. Just a little."

Many things that Larson said were true. There were also many he couldn't even suspect. She fought for him, killed for him and was wounded for him, many times. For him, she worked in the labs, creating science projects and reversing enemy technology for the resistance's needs. She was also the one thing that kept him sane, she alone and nothing else. It was Cameron who cradled him to her breast when he had a nightmare attack, appearing at his side even in the middle of the night, whenever he needed her. It was her hand he held, when he needed support and she was the one to help him with thinking, planning and taking responsibility for his decisions.

What he said was true, however. She was never his lover.

Oh, he knew he loved her. He knew for a very long time, over twenty years now. You couldn't possibly jump into the future for someone, risking your fate, and the whole world that happened to ride on your back along with it, without asking yourself: Why? Even if he could try to deny it before, that decision forced him to finally look at his feelings, and finding love amongst them wasn't hard.

It was also then, when they returned to their time, placing history back on its tracks, that he made his choice and ordered his heart to stop, drawing a line between them. A teenager named John Connor could be in love with Cameron. The General John Connor couldn't be in love with a machine. It was too big of a risk.

Problem was, his heart wasn't a soldier and didn't take orders from anyone. The only way to save himself from his feelings would be to get her away from him, try to forget, and that, paradoxically, couldn't happen because of very practical reasons. He needed her as his bodyguard, even if her closeness tore at his soul every day.

And later... he simply could't find the strength to do it anymore.

He did the only thing he could. He used his will and built a dam around his feelings, that he kept intact and in place for over twenty years. He fought a silent battle each time he felt her touch, heard her voice or just looked at her beautiful, lithe body. And each time he won, staying in control, a master of his emotions.

Until a few days ago.

At that moment, up there on that damned rocky shelf, when he looked at her shattered, lifeless face, he felt something breaking inside of him. Even those next few days, despite knowing she'll be alright, when he kept her away, weaving his web, only served to deepen the wound. He really felt, for the first time since his mad jump into the future, he felt what would happen if he ever lost her. And then, to make things even worse, there was the context – the fact that she was a step away from death not because of Skynet's machines, but because of one of his own people.

What sense is there, in all of this, if they still want to kill her...?, the question circled around his head and even knowing he can answer it, he can find the sense, he couldn't get get it out.

It was just too much.

He was feeling the dam breaking apart.

And he was very scared of what that meant.

A touch of her hand on his cheek broke his chain of thought. When he opened his eyes, however, he saw her face just inches away. A face he saw in the features of every single woman he made love to in the last twenty five years. Her eyes were as big as ever, her lips parted a little and the man found out, with anxiety, that he can't stop staring at them. A small move of his head, was all it would take...

"John.", she suddenly said, looking into his eyes. "I don't want you to be sad."

Simple, innocent words.

They made him tremble.

He didn't know if it was the relief of still having her by his side, or the fear that despite all her strength, her life could be so fragile, or the excitement caused by her being so close. Or perhaps all of these things, and thousands more.

His reaction was faster then his thoughts. In fact, he understood what's happening only when he already felt his lips on hers. The kiss lasted only for a little while, for her lips didn't respond as he would've wished. She doesn't have such desires., he reminded himself sadly. There's no passion in her, no fire.

"John...?", he heard a quiet question.

"Cam... i'm... i'm sorry... i didn't mean... i don't know what came... ove...

His tirade was suddenly stopped when he once again felt her lips, unexpectedly hot and unexpectedly greedy, on his own. This time the kiss lasted a long, long while, passion almost overwhelming. He felt his hand crawling under her shirt despite his will, wanting to touch her bare skin, he felt it caressing places forbidden until now. He drew her closer to himself, feeling her hands moving over his neck and stomach in return.

Why did she...? Oh God...

And when moments later she straddled him, moving to his stomach and skillfully placing her weight as not to hurt him, when with her lips still on his own she suddenly ripped his shirt off his chest in one move, her hair tickling his suddenly very sensitive skin, he knew...

He knew that the dam just broke.

What am i doing?

...was the last, relatively sensible thought in the mind of John Connor, leader of what was left of humanity, when he slid the black t-shirt off the shoulders of a terminator, once sent to kill him.

Then, the wave, a quarter-century's worth of withheld feelings and desires flooded him completely.

Because for everything, there's a first time.

* FIN *

Afterword:

See the irony? ^^

Sorry for all hard moments but i hope it's more understandable now why the story was shaped like that. There's no pleasure without pain, and no happiness without sadness to contrast it.

Thanks for everyone who reached the end!

Please, review away!

P.s. I'm thinking about writing a sequel, picking the story up from this moment and showing the last years of war. Not sure yet, though, if it'll happen as i also have other ideas and i'm not sure if i want to break the unique way this ff ended.

Thanks, once again :)