Part Five – It's A Sad Funny Ending

Tuesday, September 6th 2016; 07:30hrs

While John devoured his breakfast, Cameron showered and washed her hair. She chose an outfit that would not attract too much interest, then pondered on how best to disguise the hole in the back of her skull. Combing or pinning her hair didn't quite achieve what she wanted. Her fashion sense dictated that wearing the beanie from the previous night was not an option, so she settled on a head scarf, a purchase from a thrift store they'd discovered while passing through Albuquerque on their journey to Texas. She smiled at her foresight in laying out the small amount it had set her back. Finally, she gathered the clothing she had worn the previous night and returned it to Jesse's bag, intending to burn it all later.

John smiled at her, applauding her choice of attire.

"You're making fun of me again," she said.

"No, not all," John replied. He gulped down the last of his coffee, then rose and gave her a brief kiss. "Not today, 'kay?"

She smiled at his reassurance. "Hurry up and clean your teeth; I'll drop you off at work, save you taking the bus."

"Sure, thanks," John said amiably, then turned serious. "You know the bullet is gonna have to come out."

"Yes."

"We'll need to repair the hole too."

"Yes."

"Got any spare hyper-alloy lying about?" he asked casually.

"Yes," Cameron responded. John gave her a look of disbelief. "I kept back a bit of John Henry, just in case."

"Just in case, eh?" he chuckled, then suddenly got all serious again. "Wait! A bit? What bit?"

"What I could extract quickly."

John winced. "I don't think I wanna know which bit."

"His right foot," Cameron stated.

John visibly relaxed. "Oh, okay."

"We still have a problem, however."

"Oh?"

"Your welding skills. Or lack thereof."

"None taken," replied John huffily.

Cameron moved in front of her husband. She straightened his collar, then smoothed out a wrinkle in his shirt, knowing that he enjoyed her touch, her closeness. "You are very sensitive to criticism, John. That's not a good trait for the leader of the Resistance to have." She pouted slightly for added effect.

"Seeing as how I'm not even the leader in my own house, I'd say that's a moot point. You gonna give me that lift, or do I run for the bus?"

It was another occasion when using feminine wiles had not worked for Cameron. "After you do your teeth."

"Fine, mom!" John replied testily.

Thirty minutes later, Cameron slowed the old Jeep to a halt outside Roy Strauss Engineering. Before getting out, John asked her if she still sneaked off at night.

"No, I stay with you. It's the only time I have you all to myself," she explained.

"That's nice," he responded with a smile.

"For me, yes," she said, smiling back.

"So, how do you know where to sell hot property?" John asked.

"I sneak off in the day, while you're at work," she said, now with a slight smirk.

John had a good laugh, before they bade each other farewell, his earlier irritation now forgotten.

Just before 5PM, Frank Lyman asked Roy Strauss if he could finish off the job he'd been working on, something he had secretly dithered over to create the opportunity to stay late.

"You keen to finish this up tonight? I'm sure it can wait," said Roy.

"We promised to have it done first thing Wednesday morning, and the holiday has cost us a day..." Frank pointed out.

"Yeah, true... Listen, sure, why not? I'll leave you the spare keys; you know the alarm code, right?" Frank confirmed that he did with a nod. "Okay, then. You sure are conscientious, Frank; I knew you'd be a good 'un right from the start, and you ain't let me down."

"Well, I'll certainly try not to, sir," replied Frank.

"Sir? There's no need to be callin' me that, Frank. This ain't the Marines!" joked Roy.

"No, it sure isn't," agreed Frank, laughing along with his boss. "I reckon it'll only take me another half-hour anyway."

Just then Strauss spotted Emily Lyman cautiously poking her head round the door. He waved her in and welcomed her with a fulsome smile. "Hi there, Emily!"

"Hey, Roy!" she greeted him. "I've come for my boy! He done yet?"

"Ah, no. He's just got this piece to finish up, he says it won't take long. You can wait in here, if you like..."

"Sure, thanks."

Roy could see that Emily's outfit was very different to the ones he had seen her in previously, which were either wild or demure. This one was functional: she was wearing denim dungarees with a plain white tee-shirt underneath, but interestingly, a scarf around her head, holding her hair off her face. He was reminded of the garb worn by women who had been drafted into factories for the first time in World War Two.

Emily noted his attention, and related her prepared story, that she had been spring-cleaning their home, and added with a slight chuckle, "Maybe it should be called a fall-clean?" Roy smiled pleasantly at her witticism.

She sidled up next to her husband and looked down at the assortment of circuit boards that he was working on. "Is that a computer?" She grimaced slightly. "They scare the heck outta me!"

"There ain't nothin' to worry 'bout, Emily! Least not when Frank's on the job: he knows his way round all kinds of computers, 'specially them ol' Nineties ones. He's good with his hands is our Frank," Roy said admiringly.

Emily could only agree. "Yeah, he sure is! Ain'tcha, honey?" she said, putting an arm round Frank's shoulders.

Roy moved to the door, where he was joined by Tanya, who shot a cold look at Emily before exiting rapidly. "You won't forget the alarm will you, Frank?" Roy reminded him.

"No, I sure won't; don't worry, boss. See ya in the morning, 'kay?" Frank smiled confidently and waved briefly. Roy returned the gesture and pointed to the spare keys on a rack just to his left. Frank gave him a thumbs-up signal and another smile for good measure. Satisfied, Roy departed for home.

"You can take your hand off my ass now, Frankie!" instructed Emily. "Hah! Good with your hands, indeed!"

"Ooh! Computers scare the heck outta me!" John said in a very 'girlie' voice, before resuming in his normal tone, "Geez, that's number one in the 'taking the cake' chart, Cameron."

She maintained her Emily persona long enough to give him a withering look. Or maybe she's already switched? he wondered silently.

John set about his task of repairing the hole in Cameron's skull. She had spent time that afternoon, in what passed for their yard, melting down some of the hyper-alloy acquired from John Henry in the small furnace she used to make metal fittings for her bags, finally beating it into the required size and shape. John hesitated as the moment arrived when he had to slice her almost-healed scalp.

Cameron was viewing his efforts through a couple of mirrors: one she held in front of her, one on a stand positioned behind her head. She angled the front mirror so that she could look John in the eye. "You can do this, John. You must do this, for me."

"Yeah," he said, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

He placed his left hand on her head, his right firmly gripping a scalpel. He made the incision and then peeled her scalp apart, using crocodile clips to hold it away from the heat of the welding tip he would be using. John decided to concentrate fully on removing the bullet and the subsequent repair of the damage it caused.

After more than an hour of silent activity, Cameron declared the repair a success. "It is cool enough to stitch my scalp now," she declared.

"Good," said her relieved husband. "Listen, how come the bullet didn't destroy your chip?" John repeated his earlier question. It was something that his thoughts had been revolving around, more or less since she had been rendered off-line.

"I have a metal plate in my head," Cameron repeated her earlier answer, though this time her voice conveyed the smirk on her face.

John chuckled in response, then abruptly stopped and moved around to face her. "Listen, when Derek used that Barrett on Cromartie, it did a lot more damage. Was it the range she fired from that saved you?"

"That was a factor, but also the bullet had an inadequate load," she said, holding up the squashed remnants.

"Okay. And yet Derek got it right..."

"No."

"No? You sure?"

"Yes."

John bore a countenance that told Cameron to clarify her simple assertions.

"I made the bullets and shells that we used on Cromartie; I knew how much was required for each and loaded them accordingly," she said.

"Derek didn't like using other people's stuff," John claimed.

"What Derek didn't know, didn't hurt him. Some things it was wise to hide from him, much like we hid certain facts from your mother."

"There was way too much secrecy going on back then," John said, shaking his head regretfully.

"Trust has to be earned. You told me that."

"I did? Me, or future-me?"

"You, John."

"Wise beyond my years; I'm obviously the right guy to lead mankind," he said, grinning cheekily.

"And modest too," Cameron teased.

Looking earnestly at her, he said: "I'm gonna have to check your chip for damage."

Cameron looked confused. "I ran a test; everything's good, it's fine. So, why check it?" she asked.

"The 'metal plate' thing? That was actually amusing; I'm worried you're glitching again," he joked.

"That is not funny, John Connor," Cameron replied, in a tone that reminded him of being told off by his mother. "And you used that line before Jesse shot out our tire."

"How come you always remember stuff that's bad for me, but never for you, huh?"

"It's called Convenient Memory Syndrome," Cameron said, but John was none the wiser. "It's a girl thing," she added. Realization dawned on John's face, but quickly faded. She said that? he thought. He was more confused than ever by his wife.

Cameron sighed pointedly. "I have extra protection around my chip. Remember, I was designed to get close to you, purely to terminate John Connor. Skynet didn't go to all that trouble just to have me stopped by one bullet."

"Right, that makes sense, I guess." With a rueful smile, John returned to his seat and resumed the stitching of her scalp.

In the Jeep on the way home, John had a further mystery to solve. "Why did it take longer than two minutes to reboot?" he asked.

"I have an instant shutdown program suitable for use in such situations as cranial damage; however it takes longer to reboot due to the need for my files to be fully checked and possibly reconfigured."

"You've been electro-shocked and seriously smacked about a bunch of times, some of which knocked you off-line, but you still popped back up in one-twenty... So what's different about this?"

"This is the first time I have been rendered off-line since we returned from the future; since you re-inserted my chip."

"Is it? Well, if you say so..."

"You refused many times to remove certain files on my chip that I do not wish to retain, so yes, my new start-up protocol has not been required until now."

"You're still sore about that? The memory thing? It's just that I didn't wanna do some kinda lobotomy. I saw how you were after you remembered Allison; you shouldn't have to struggle to know who you are. I get that down deep, you're a terminator, who some genius gave the name Cameron. But you're also my wife, and I love you. How you deal with all of that is part of what makes you you. So, deal with it."

Cameron smiled at him. He had changed a lot since she'd first met the teenaged John Connor; not everything for the better, but she conceded to him on this matter. Recent events dictated that soon she would have to bring up a potentially divisive subject; not this night, however.

Not far from their home, John suddenly recalled something that had passed him by with barely a flicker, something Cameron had said. "New start-up protocol?"

"Pardon?" Cameron replied.

"You said, and I quote: 'my new start-up protocol has not been required until now.'"

Cameron made a show of thinking for a few seconds, before answering. "Yes."

"New. What gives? And don't pretend you don't understand the question. Please?"

"It was devised to ensure that when I reboot I will always be Cameron, not just a terminator. So that I don't try to kill you again."

"And you worked this out on your own?" John asked, genuinely curious.

"John Henry devised it for me. He was made up of original Cyberdyne code, so it was easier for him."

"Oh? When was this?" John asked, mindful that she had not long since told him that her chip had not been off-line in years.

"When we were in the future, while we shared my chip."

"Right." John pondered on the ramifications of this new information. Sharing the chip? "So, you and he..?"

"Shared many conversations. What you would call conversations," she clarified.

"How... cozy," John said sarcastically.

Cameron smiled innocently. "Yes. It was a most interesting relationship."

"Uh-huh. So, while you two were having cyber-sex, he found a way to stop you reverting to Skynet's commands?"

"You still don't seem to understand how we work, John."

"Oh, I'm getting a pretty good picture."

"Maybe you're looking at the wrong one. But to answer your question, after an emergency shutdown, the elongated re-boot ensures that I do not revert to Skynet protocols."

As they pulled up outside their home John was somewhat placated, his irrational moment of jealousy forgotten. "I thought you just over-rode the commands?"

"I did. However, when you insisted on not replacing the explosive device I planted in my skull it showed how reckless you can be: you gambled on my ability to control myself. While I love you for your faith in me, my logic, and my love for you, make me act to protect you from yourself; or in this case, your determination to see me as always being able to overcome base programming through sheer force of will."

"Oh, right." John felt humble and foolish at the same time.

"I anticipated that, should we be successful in returning to this time, you would wish to reactivate me without the bomb." She took his hand and gently squeezed it, ensuring his full attention. "I needed another fail-safe, John: I don't have the belief in my abilities that you do."

"Maybe you should. You haven't let me down so far..." John shrugged, but then smiled warmly.

Cameron echoed his smile before turning the ignition off. "Maybe," she said.

It had been another long night, and once inside Cameron asked John if he wanted to be awakened a bit later in the morning, despite having to go to work as usual.

He flopped down wearily on the bed. "Yeah, I oughtta be first in with the keys for Roy, just to repay his trust; but a quarter-hour more sleep might get me through the day, and if you drop me off it'll save time over the bus..." His voice trailed off as his head hit the pillow. Cameron didn't need to scan him to know that he was fast asleep.

Wednesday, September 7th 2016; 09:45hrs

Having run some errands in town after depositing Frank at his place of work, Emily Lyman phoned James Ellison, who had fortuitously just been released from an exclusive L.A. hospital. He agreed to fly over to Texas to meet his former colleagues in the 'Resistance' to discuss recent events and see what the future held for all of them. Emily spent the rest of the day sorting out a number of matters in the small home she shared with her husband.

Frank elected to take the bus home from work, as per his usual routine. He didn't want too many deviations to be noted in his regular pattern, so declined Emily's offer of a third collection in as many days. However he didn't refuse the loving hug and warm mug of coffee she provided on his return.

Emily watched him sitting silently in their only armchair, sipping his steaming drink. She often wondered about what thoughts he might have; on many occasions it was all too evident what was on his mind, but those were moments when he was most like the teenaged John Connor. At times like the present, he was very much like Future-John, brooding and somewhat foreboding.

Cameron asked if he wanted to talk about the killing of Jesse Flores. Frank Lyman did not reply. It was John who curtly stated: "No."

Cameron was not put off. She had worked her way through Future-John's emotional barriers before he decided to send her back to his younger self, whom she had also eventually gained the trust of and, more importantly, his love. She plowed on regardless.

"I want to help, honey," she said, kneeling at his feet.

"'Honey?' Emily calls me that, but not you; not Cameron."

"Maybe it's time I started," she said.

"Hmm, maybe..."

Cameron took his free hand in hers and looked up at John. "Why did you kill her?" she asked. He didn't reply. "I thought you were done with killing, but you still seem comfortable with it. You didn't hesitate; in fact you planned her execution." John flinched slightly at her last word. "Was this so the world could live in peace, or just us?"

Her question went unanswered for some time, but finally John stirred. "No, it was purely selfish: it was for us. If I let her go free again, I'd always be wondering where she was."

"No you wouldn't," Cameron corrected. "I was going to kill her. You deserve peace, John. I don't know if Judgment Day has truly been averted, but I hope so; I hope for your sake, not the sake of the other humans who might die. I don't care about them; I only care about you. Is that also selfish?"

"Not really. It's the way you are, who you are. You've got me, and I've got you. Maybe that's all that matters," he said, before his mind retrieved the memory of Jesse Flores describing her childhood, growing up in pre-Judgment Day Australia.

They were outside in the desert, having a drink of water under the moonlight. John silently drew his weapon; he had already chambered a round. He slipped the safety off and shot her in the back of the head, while she was smiling, reminiscing about happier times: her and some friends playing on a beach.

"Australia sounds nice," he said casually.

Cameron was clearly irritated. "It's my job to deal with threats," she said from the doorway.

John ignored her attitude, but declared: "I guess she's at peace now."

He moved his attention to the present, to Cameron. He looked down at her, seeing the frown etched upon her once serene face. "This kind of thing never used to worry you. I know you've changed, but you were still prepared to kill her. Where's the problem if I did it? I mean, you weren't bothered about Danny Dyson."

"I was, I just didn't have the confidence to say anything then. I weighed up the pros and cons, seeing which would hurt you more: me objecting to your action or ignoring it. Having made that decision before, after you saved me from the funeral pyre your family put me in, I chose wrongly, if only because I alienated myself from you. I was unable to protect you from Sarkissian, and worse, I was unable to protect you from me. Then it seemed I couldn't save you from yourself. I was unable to fulfill my main purpose, because I made a bad decision. It was with the best of intentions, but it was the wrong one. Making such decisions is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. My life was ordered before I met you: I knew what to do at all times. Now I feel like I'm being pulled every which way. Sometimes I'm lost."

"It's free will, Cameron. Choice. You can do what you want," John said.

"Yes, yes I can; but I chose to help you. You aren't meant to be a cold-blooded killer, but I am. Regardless of how much I have changed, it is my basic function. I was prepared to kill Danny Dyson; you knew that, but you sent me outside with your mother while you killed him. You used a similar diversionary tactic with Jesse Flores. I am at fault for not detecting that."

"Listen, it doesn't matter if you killed them or I did; if you act on my orders or because you think it's what I want, it's the same as me pulling the trigger. I learned long ago that to lead you have to set an example. You can't have your people doing something you aren't prepared to do; it's cowardly."

"Am I one of your people, John?" Cameron asked, plaintively.

He looked down into her eyes, seeing what only he saw. "No, you're my wife and my best friend," he said tenderly. "My love."

"Have I been a good wife, John?"

"Yes, of course! Why do you ask?"

"I didn't know how to be one: it's not part of my programming. I had to improvise."

John chuckled. "Well, me too! I think it's just something you learn as you go along; there aren't any handbooks."

"Yes there are."

"Really?" he said, somewhat skeptically.

"I found more than one in a bookshop when we lived in Wichita."

"Was that right after Mexico?" he asked, trying to remember the sequence of the places that they'd lived in. Cameron nodded. "Were they any help?" John continued.

"I think so, but you would be better placed to judge that."

John smiled reassuringly. "Well, I think we've done okay, considering our unique circumstances."

There was no reply from Cameron, and neither moved from their position. After some minutes of silence, John decided to try once more to placate her. He stood, then began pacing around the small room, Cameron's eyes following his every move, his hands punctuating his verbal points.

"Danny Dyson chose the path he was on. He was willing to send the whole of humanity to hell in a hand-cart, just because he thought my mom killed his dad. You were there when we interviewed him. He showed no remorse, not a care. He would not listen to reason, he would not accept the evidence we presented. He told us we would have to kill him, so I did. Now we all have a future; he doesn't, but he chose his own way out.

"Now Jesse, she was maybe just misguided; but she was a loose cannon. She blamed you for so much, but that probably wasn't even you. She came from a different future than Derek, we know that much. The thing is, she still has a future: over in Australia right now there's another Jesse, another little girl who played on a beach. She's maybe eighteen, nineteen now, going to college and doing just that, having those dreams of a sun-filled future with a surfer-dude. She might just get to see them come true, if we truly won the war. I'm doing her a favor."

"Why didn't you kill her the first time?" asked Cameron.

"I didn't have big enough cojones to do it back then; I figured Derek might have ignored my order and killed her himself, but I really haven't thought about it since."

Cameron appeared puzzled once more."Your testicles haven't grown since then."

"I was speaking metaphorically, Cameron. It's a saying is all."

"Oh," she said, then added for old times' sake: "Thank you for explaining."

John grinned on hearing this. "So, even back then you were checking me out?"

Cameron stood up, and bristled slightly with indignation. "No, I was not 'checking you out.' I record everything I see, and I was merely making an observation, due to my not being aware of the colloquialism you used."

John nuzzled her neck, which caused her to ease into his arms and then whispered in her ear: "Damn, you're sexy when you go all robot on me!"

She abruptly straightened up and lost all expression from her face. Her mouth opened part way, but moved no more, as a cold, mechanical voice escaped from it. "Target acquired… Target identified... Target: John Connor... Mission: terminate."

Her hand went to his throat, and grasped it. As he looked into her vacant eyes, he saw nothing of Cameron, let alone Emily. There was just the terminator. The one who chased him on his sixteenth birthday; the one who was built to kill him. She had told him that she might one day kill him, but he also recalled that on that fateful birthday, she told him something else...

"You promised not to kill me, remember?" he managed to splutter.

She tilted her head to one side and looked at him curiously. "Termination override," she said in her normal tone, her hand relaxing its grip. It wasn't much, but her face changed too, she appeared much more alive: she was Cameron again. "Was that 'sexy robot' enough for you, John?"

Released and relieved, John managed a chuckle. "Okay, okay! Bad choice of words; I forget sometimes how much you've changed," he said, rubbing his neck.

"You must not forget what I am. I can appear human, but it is only a facade."

"I know, I welded and stitched your head back together, and I did just call you a robot! If it's that what's upset you, I humbly apologize, world's finest cybernetic organism."

"Apology accepted, world's finest human being."

He embraced her again. "Now, where were we?" He delicately planted kisses on the left side of her neck, leading up to her ear. "Were you really gonna kill me?" he whispered.

"Call me a robot again, you're gonna find out real quick," said Emily.

"Damn, you're sexy when you go all human on me!"

Thursday, September 8th 2016; 18:05hrs

A silver-colored Korean sub-compact pulled up outside the Lymans' home. An extremely large and disgruntled-looking James Ellison eventually appeared, after struggling to extricate himself from the tiny automobile. His expensive suit looked creased and the fingers of his left hand were heavily bandaged. From the passenger side exited somewhat more elegantly, and with greater dignity, Savannah Weaver.

Frank went out to greet his sometime allies. "Slumming it, James?" he smirked.

"They were right out of luxury brands at the airfield rental. Seems like there was a run on them around here today," Ellison replied sarcastically.

"Really? I wouldn't-a thought there'd be much call for big-ticket autos round these parts," Emily said innocently.

Ellison stared at Emily, reminding himself that he had only recently become used to calling her by that name, despite the passing of years. He could recall only too clearly being on the wrong end of her vast strength, and later being told by her that she should have killed him. Hmm! he thought. Since John brought her back from the future, she seemed as much changed as him, but he knew that the 'Emily' guise was her merely acting a part. On those rare occasions when she uttered something like her last comment, it made her seem so naïve, and yet John had more than once said to him that she was the most powerful computer on earth. Maybe it's one thing to be machine clever, another to be human smart?

Turning back to Frank, he joked, "Is it safe for a brother 'round here?" With a sweep of his hand he took in the trailer park, and the dozen or so pairs of eyes trained on the wealthy-looking African-American man with his red-headed teenage female companion.

"With Emily around, it's as safe as anywhere," Frank reassured him. "But come inside quick, that sun is fierce today."

"Funny, Frank," responded Ellison, following him in.

"He means Savannah. She burns easily," Emily pointed out.

"Oh, right," he replied, noticing as if for the first time the teenager's pale complexion. "About the mad Aussie: I tried to warn you, but I was too late."

"It's okay, James. I'm just glad you survived," said Frank, grasping Ellison's right bicep gently to add emphasis to his handshake. The older man winced with the pain he still felt from having his arms almost forced from their sockets by Flores. "Sorry, man," said Frank, releasing his grip.

"It's okay, but you gotta realize I had to keep Savannah safe, right? I couldn't let that mad bitch loose on the kid; I figured you'd be safe with Emily here; didn't think she'd be the target though. Musta missed the briefing on Flores."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Emily reassured him. "Everythin' turned out just fine. An' there was no Flores briefin'. I wasn't aware she was still out there, otherwise I'd have handled it myself long ago."

"I'll bet you would," said Ellison. "Listen, did she have a car with her? She took off with my Merc–"

"How is the chola?" Frank interrupted.

"She'll live, but she won't be getting any manicures for a while." He waggled his own bandaged fingers for emphasis. "She's tough, that one," he added.

"Yeah, in the future she was real important to the Resistance," Emily stated.

"Seems like everyone plays their part in two eras. How 'bout me?" Ellison inquired.

"Um, best you don't know," said Frank cagily.

"Savannah had an important role, didn't she Frankie?" Emily said with an unmistakably sharp tone.

"Not going there, Em. We've moved on from that, right? Six years at least."

Ellison looked from Frank to Emily, noticing the sudden drop in temperature. "Wellll, guess that's your business, right? So, what else has been goin' on in the Connor/Lyman 'verse?"

Seated snugly round the small table were Frank, James Ellison and Savannah Weaver, who as usual was looking adoringly at Frank. Emily carefully placed a dish of Chili con Carne in front of Ellison, then plonked one in front of Savannah but ignored her husband.

"Hey, not one for me?" he asked.

"You got your rations," she said archly.

"Uhm, listen guys, if you want, we can leave while you have your fight," offered Ellison.

"It ain't a fight, we don't have them, do we honey?" said Emily, the sarcasm clearly evident in her voice. It gave John a reminder of his mother in full verbal flight. Damn her way of picking things up off people, he thought. Don't throw Mom at me, not here! But if you're gonna fight dirty...

"Cameron is oh so subtly referring to what happened a long time ago, when I was in the future, chasing after her, while trying to survive death from the machines on a daily basis. All the while she was right there, disguised as a big galumph, watching me–"

"Watchin' over you, Frank. I was protectin' you–"

"Yeah, right! Trying to pair me off with the human girl you were modeled on. Unfortunately, that plan didn't work. She looked and sounded like Cameron, but it felt like trying to make out with your girlfriend's twin sister. Party time for some, but not for this guy."

"Way to paint yourself as some kinda saint, Frank Lyman! You're forgettin' your real indiscretion–"

"Savannah, er, could you get the grocery bag I left in the trunk of my car? It goes off real fast in this heat. I'm such a klutz, forgetting it..." Frank smiled charmingly at the teenager, who immediately took the proffered keys from him and headed outside obediently.

"I don't follow," said a puzzled James Ellison. "Indiscretion?" Emily pointed to the door, out of which had just gone... "Savannah? No! Surely not? I mean she's only fifteen; way too young," said Ellison doubtfully. The whole business of the future being the past to Frank and Emily had always confused him.

"Not in 2031. She was thirty, eight years older than John at that point. She still had a crush on him; she was one of the few to remember John from the past. To almost everyone else, he was a stranger," Cameron intoned, all emotion gone from her voice.

"Rrr-ight. So, it's okay for him to do the horizontal tango with your human double, but not with the only person who actually knows him?" Ellison clarified.

"Yes," said Cameron, before quickly correcting herself. "No," she added, though she looked and sounded doubtful.

"She never has quite got the hang of this jealousy thing. It makes her do strange things; we'll be finding dead birds around the place for the next few weeks–"

John's casual rant was interrupted as he found that he was now wearing his dinner. Ellison barely suppressed a laugh as Cameron strode purposefully out of the small dwelling, forcing Savannah to step smartly aside on her way back from investigating the Lymans' Jeep.

"I didn't find anything in the trunk, Frank. Maybe you left it at the grocery store? Wow! Emily's real mad; she isn't usually like that, is she?" she said.

"Uh, maybe I did. Thanks for looking anyway. And no, she doesn't usually get this way; but she has just had a blow to her head, so maybe she's er... changing. Last time something like this happened, she changed a lot."

"You should apologize, if you said something to upset her. Maybe you could treat her to an expensive hair salon; she needs to do something about that look: it just doesn't suit her," the teenager said earnestly.

"I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear you say that Savannah, but I'll give it some thought," replied John, licking some errant sauce from his finger. Hmm, not bad, he thought.

"We can give you some money, if you're short of cash," the girl offered ingenuously.

"No, we're good," said John perfunctorily. "But thanks," he added more amiably.

"Listen, Savannah, I think we oughtta go find our hotel, leave Frank and Emily to work things out," Ellison said, rising carefully from his chair.

"Okay, sure, Uncle James," said Savannah, sounding reluctant. "Bye Frank," she said more cheerfully, trying to kiss him on the cleanest part of his cheek.

As Ellison passed by John, he whispered: "You've got some serious suckin' up to do, boy! Serious!" He rubbed his neck, where Cameron had throttled him many years before, rolling his eyeballs up into their sockets for extra emphasis, then chuckled, a deep bass rumble that threatened to become outright laughter, but once again he restrained himself, for the most part.

As Savannah settled into their rental, Ellison spoke to Cameron. "You got a jealous streak a mile wide!" he asserted. She nodded in agreement, then confided that she was worried about John.

"The Flores woman?" James asked.

"Yes."

Ellison reflected for a moment or two, but he had anticipated a question like this; he had more than once queried his own participation in the Connors' crusade. "He makes decisions he can live with. Whatever he did and saw in that future, it changed him. He's not a sociopath though; when it comes to our special line of work, he is ruthless, but he knows what is at stake: he weighs it up, before making his decisions. You're gonna have to cut him some slack on that; and the Savannah business. You've gotta move on, Cameron."

"Maybe," she said, then abruptly changed the subject. "Incidentally, we sold your car for cash; of course we didn't know it was yours or we would have kept it."

Ellison sighed. "You didn't have to tell me that."

"No, but honesty among friends is a good thing, is it not?"

"Yeah, it is," he agreed. "Don't worry about the car though, it was leased."

"You seem fairly relaxed about all this for a former member of the FBI."

"A lot of things went by the wayside when I left the Bureau. Maybe some of my morals eased back a notch, but I have seen things that would curl the hairs of J. Edgar Hoover himself; things like you. So yeah, I'm a little laid back these days; it helps when you have mad renegade freedom-fighters from the future tearing out your finger-nails..."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Just get on with life. Be a wife to him, or whatever it is that you are."

"I am his wife, in all ways!" Cameron stated indignantly.

"Okay, okay! Well, just carry on... Look, keep in touch; you know, just in case J-Day ever happens," he said, smiling cordially.

"Yes, we will," she replied, her moment of mild irritation seemingly passed.

Ellison had another question. "This girl in the future, she looks just like you?"

"No, I look like her," Cameron replied tersely.

Interesting reaction, he thought. He had some extra words of wisdom to impart. "He didn't choose her; John chose you. That's real important: it's not just how you look that matters to him; he loves you. All of you."

"Thank you," said Cameron.

"You're welcome," James replied.

Cameron surprised Ellison by kissing him on the cheek, something that initially worried him, but his fears quickly dissipated. She has come a long way, he decided.

John removed his shirt and placed it in the kitchen sink, then dampened a small hand towel in order to clean himself up. Moving to the front door, he watched the silver car depart for a more upmarket part of town as he wiped his face clean, catching a glimpse of Cameron standing off to one side, in the classic 'peeved' pose: arms folded, head lowered, lips pouting. Although her stance suggested anger, the sun's rays painted her in a quite different light to John. He took in the sight before him, fully enjoying it, but realizing he must follow James Ellison's advice. Aware that he couldn't sneak up on her, he just walked normally up behind Cameron and slid his arms around her waist. He kissed her neck, but she failed to respond to either gesture.

"You know I love you, Cameron. I loved you back then too. I just thought I'd lost you for good, thought I'd lost everything. Going to the future seemed like a really dumb thing to do at that point; I was alone… Hell, you know, I've told you before. I tried to make up for it as soon as I got you back here though; you can see that, right?"

Cameron felt the two rings she wore on the third finger of her left hand; symbols of love, loyalty, fidelity and so much more. Ceremonies and certificates can give you some reassurance, but nothing so much as the sworn oaths that come with them; for her the promises given and received that summer's day in Mexico six years before meant everything. Just like her promise not to kill him when he had reactivated her in a Los Angeles junk yard.

John felt Cameron finally lean into him, relaxing in his arms. "We're gonna have to move again, aren't we?" he said, resignation evident in his voice. It was no accident that their Jeep had a tow-hitch mounted at the rear; they could have gotten frequent-user discounts at U-Haul if they didn't have to remain anonymous each time.

"You know we will. And find new identities. If Jesse could find us..?"

"She will have left a trail behind her... Yeah, I know, I just hoped this would be it. It isn't the life I'd have chosen for us, but still... We've been happy here, for the most part, right?"

"Yes, but we have to keep moving, stay one step ahead of the pack. It's your mom's way; it's done us well so far." She turned and faced John, giving him a small smile of encouragement, which quickly turned into a smirk as an idea came to her unbidden. "We could try Australia?"

"Or somewhere near Palmdale?" John offered. Cameron's face lit up at the suggestion.

Approaching midnight, John had eaten his fill of the dinner hurriedly left by Savannah and James, cleaned the dishes and put everything away. However he was now fretting. Cameron had spent a long time in the bathroom, after telling John that she would "Do something about my hair." John had been pacing around restlessly and eventually came to stand by the door.

"You haven't cut it short have you? I mean, I know I did that to mine, but you agreed it's better on me," he said, attempting to strike up a conversation through the wooden barrier. Not for the first time in their marriage, the door stayed firmly shut. "Look, when I said it looked bad, I didn't know everybody had been saying that, did I? I mean, give me a break... Just don't do anything rash, you know, like before. Going to the future rash; know what I'm saying?"

Suddenly the door swung open to reveal Cameron in all her glory.

"Wow!" said John.

"You like?" she inquired as she walked up to him.

"Wow!" he repeated. Cameron smirked just a tiny bit.

"So, how did you change the color, yet keep the light bits?"

"One hair at a time," she replied.

"That sounds really tedious... oh, right; not for you, okay."

Cameron had indeed carefully dyed her hair back to brown, but with the subtle highlights she once had. For good measure she had dressed in blue boot-cut jeans, with a simple white and pink candy-striped cotton blouse. It was as close as she could get to recreating the outfit she wore on their last day in school in 1999; the day Cromartie found John Connor in Red Valley, New Mexico. It was the time when John thought she was human, when he fell in love with her, but then discovered her true nature. Much had changed since then, but not the bond they forged that day: they apologized for being dishonest to each other and thereafter they kept their promises; somehow they had fallen in love and incredibly, remained so.

"Thank you," John said.

Cameron tilted her head slightly, raised one eyebrow and smiled faintly. "What for?"

"For just being here. For being you," John elaborated.

Her smile widened, then she responded as he leaned in for a brief kiss, something that seemed to have as much meaning for John as a longer, more overtly passionate embrace. She had learned that sometimes he just had to display his love. Of course it gave her pleasure and reassurance too, for she remembered the months when he had been reluctant to show any affection towards her; even after he brought her chip back from the future there were times when it seemed as if he was afraid to be anything other than the cold and remote leader he'd been told he was born to be. Eventually he had allowed some of his old self to reappear, if only occasionally. His experiences had changed him, but finally he had come to terms with it all and although he was no longer the boy she had fallen in love with, John Connor the man was so much more.

"Thank you. You gave my life purpose and meaning, but more than that, you showed me love and kindness; you gave me freedom; you believed in me when nobody else did, even when I thought you shouldn't. I would have been melted and recycled into something else; but you saw something in me, valued me. You risked everything for me, twice; when I tried to kill you and then again when I betrayed you. I don't deserve you, John Connor."

John shrugged modestly, but maintained eye contact. "It wasn't a betrayal: you were trying to spare me from the possibility that you might kill me. I knew you never would though; never will."

Cameron kissed him as he had her, then whispered in his ear, "Don't think I'm gonna let you go easy; you're my man, past, present and future, you hear?"

John gave her a goofy grin in reply, then another quick peck on the lips. "I hear, Mrs Connor."

Cameron took a pace back but held John's hands, smiling her little smile, the one she reserved only for him.

"What? What is it?" he asked.

"You've never called me that before," Cameron replied.

"No? Well, I guess I never had the chance before."

"Maybe never again," Cameron said.

"Maybe. But don't let's worry about that. Just hit the highway and see where it takes us, okay?"

"Okay," Cameron agreed. She linked her arm in John's and they headed for their bedroom. As long as she was with him, all was right in her world. Everything else was just a problem to be solved, and she was good at solving problems. Usually by eliminating them.

Friday, September 9th 2016; 08:14hrs

As John headed off to work, Cameron set about her well-established routine of packing up their belongings. She had already laid the groundwork by obtaining the necessary boxes two days before and booking a trailer on Thursday, which she drove into town to collect at noon.

Anything deemed surplus to requirements she burned. She recognized that it was unwise to take much with them, traveling light was always preferable, however in the years they had been together they had managed to assemble a small collection of mementos, which she kept in a special vanity case. The case itself was the one they had discovered in a Mojave Desert shack, bearing Sarah Connor's last message to her son. Now it also contained a few pictures and some more unusual items: the flotsam and jetsam of their marriage. There were other useful things they had gathered over the years that were too large for the case, but when they had the opportunity to depart somewhere at their convenience, such as their current predicament, they would take them to their new destination.

The diamonds that they had obtained from Jesse Flores would allow them to start afresh, posing as a modestly wealthy couple. Cameron thought that she might give in to John's request for a newer automobile, but it would likely still be a Jeep; Sarah Connor would approve, she was sure. They might be able to open a small shop repairing machinery, much like Roy Strauss Engineering. Cameron could then be with John all through the day as well as the night. She wondered if perhaps she might continue her interest in making leather bags, even if they didn't need the money they might bring in.

However, she was also aware that making long-term plans was not advisable. Having contingencies, yes; expectations, no. She decided that this made her sad, that she and her husband could never truly escape their past; also they might not be able to evade the future either. It meant that they must always live in the moment, but the current moment seemed adequate to her. John was not unduly affected by his terminating Jesse Flores, nor was he ignoring what he had done. He was accepting of the need for them to move on, and was looking forward to setting up a new life.

Confirming her assessment of her husband's well-being, when he arrived home that evening he had a quick shower then suggested that they head off straight away, and not wait for dawn. Cameron readily agreed and so without further delay, they were soon bidding farewell to the Happy Trails park. Before the night was through they had said goodbye to Texas.

THE END

(of VOLUME 3)

Author's Notes

Thanks for reading this story. Extra credit to everyone who took the time & trouble to leave a review.

Is this the end of the road for these characters? Maybe. Or maybe there's Strange Days ahead?