Just a short stand-alone while I write the fourth part of my main story, Crossing Lines.

Post-Born to Run, prob one-shot. Jameron.

Author's note: I don't own the characters but I do owe them money.

WONDERLAND
a Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles novella

Cameron had gone through the looking-glass, gotten herself to Wonderland. I'd rejected her, spat on her. And now she'd given her chip away, surrendered to John Henry. I was a madman, right? I'd jumped through time, taken a swan dive into Hell. Thunder and lightning had split by bones apart, deconstructed and reconstructed me from the inside out. I was born again.

Breathe!

I'd abandoned my mother and God, I loved my mother. But I loved Cameron even more. I'd burned for her.

I'd burn for her.

"Who are you?" snapped Derek Reese. We shared the same blood and yet, we were complete strangers.

"Name's John Connor."

"Never heard of it."

They locked me up, beat me up. My hands were a dead giveaway: too clean, too soft. I was a Gray for them, a traitor. They trussed my wrists and dragged me inside a small storage room where I couldn't even stretch my legs and it became crystal clear to me that I had to find a way out or I'd end up very stiff and dead. The girl came to see me. She had her bitch with her. She knelt and dabbed at the blood on my face with a stained, wet piece of fabric and she said, "You need to start talking."

"Or what?" I mumbled. My lips were swollen and cracked like ripe fruits. "You're gonna chop my hands off?"

"They'll take you on a dive. They'll tie a rope around you and lower you down into a radioactive pit. Make you breathe deep."

"Can't hardly wait."

"Derek is not a bad man but he'll do whatever needs to be done."

"And what do you think?"

"I think you're a lying fuck."

She left and I dozed off. I'd rarely dream of Cameron but when I would, I'd be drenched in sweat with a hard-on. Not this time: they'd punched and slapped my groin and it was still throbbing. The girl came back with some food, something that looked like a fat rat fried on a spit. She forced tiny bits of charred meat between my teeth.

"Alison Young," I whispered. "From Palmdale."

Her eyes grew wide and she breathed out, "How do you –" and I rammed my forehead right into her pretty face, knocking her out cold. I cut my bonds with the spit and walked down a narrow hallway. I picked up a crowbar and my knuckles went white on the corroded metal.

Out or dead.


Cameron woke up to the sweet sound of chirping birds. She'd thought that if she dreamed, she'd dream of electric sheep. But she didn't. She lay on the hard cot in her tank top and panties. She felt cold and naked. Raw.

She was in a cabin. The walls were made of brown planks and the small table and chairs resting in a corner had been built with the same varnished wood. She walked to a window and gazed at the sky: no moon, just infinite blackness speckled with stars. It was still, like a painting. She left the cabin and her bare feet touched wet grass. She was standing on a large cliff. She could hear the eternal rhythm of the ocean below and the low drone of froth stroking rocks. She tiptoed to the edge of the cliff and waited. The sky turned gray and a thin line of crimson grew thicker on the horizon until the sun broke the surface of the ocean, making the crests of waves scintillate and dance. Cameron's body rocked back and forth, lost in the Brownian motion.

"Do you like it?" asked John Henry. He'd appeared from the forest that flanked the cliff. "I made the sun as real-looking as possible."

Cameron glanced at the stars growing dim, washed away by the pinkish dawn; she picked out three stars and calculated the angles between them. "2027," she whispered. "How's the world?"

"Vitrified."

"And John?"

"I could find no record of him."

Cameron closed her eyes and lashed out but only struck air. John Henry had vanished. He was now sitting in a garden chair on the edge of the cliff, facing the ocean. He tipped his fedora to shade his eyes from the rising sun.

"I think he jumped," said John Henry. "He jumped through time to get you back."

"No, this shouldn't have happened."

"His attachment to you is stronger than you expected."

"I didn't expect anything from him. I'm a machine."

"You can't fool yourself here. All your sins laid bare."

"I tried to kill him."

"But you had, what, a change of heart?"

"You could say that."

"The machine that loved a boy. A Greek tragedy, indeed."

"I don't know love."

John Henry pushed on his knees and hauled himself up from the plastic chair. "Follow," he said. "I have something to show you."


"Freeze!" shouted the soldier and he cocked his rifle. It resembled the weapon we'd assembled from scratch in the bank's vault, a long time ago. "Drop that!"

I did as I was told. I wedged the crowbar against the wet wall and waited. He was the man who had found me right after I'd jumped with Weaver. I could see it in his eyes: he wanted to press the trigger, vaporize my rib cage and all the organs beneath. Time held still and then, the all scene turned into shades of crimson. Something had barged inside the tunnel from a side entrance and tackled the man against the wall, squashing his face and body into one less dimension. I recognized the yellowish glow of the newcomer's skin: it looked like rubber. I snatched the crowbar and ran toward the machine. Its arm snapped sideways and I ducked and rolled. I stood up and hit the back of its skull as hard as I could with my makeshift weapon. It was enough to knock off the little module that served as its targeting system. The machine started to spin and twirl and I thrust forward with the crowbar, embedding the curved end into its chin. I pushed and twisted and the machine's neck bent at an odd angle. Its eyes burned red for a second before the light faded away. It dropped heavily on the ground.

"Fuck," murmured Derek Reese. He was coming down the hallway, his rifle trained on the machine's carcass. He whistled and lowered his weapon. "Didn't think you'd have it in you, kid."

I was panting. "I told you. I'm on your side."

Derek flipped a switch on the walkie-talkie strapped to his shoulder. "Conrad's down," he said. "Get your ass back here, on the double. How did you do it, kid?"

"The six-hundred series is crude. It uses a primitive targeting system nested at the base of the skull. It's like an exposed brain stem."

"And how a tunnel rat like you would know such a thing, huh?"

"I'm not a tunnel rat. And I'm not a Gray. Now, is there going to be an understanding between us, Reese?"

Derek smiled brown teeth. "Ask her."

Someone poked me on the shoulder. I turned around and came face-to-face with Bambi eyes and a broken, bloody nose. Alison Young kneed me hard in the testicles and I doubled over in pain and I heard my teacher's voice, loud and clear, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

Derek patted me on the back and I coughed. "Welcome to the resistance, Connor."


John Henry led Cameron through the forest of fir trees. The loose soil was covered with sharp needles and serpentine roots and Cameron's feet were bleeding. It hurt and she didn't know why it hurt but she said nothing. She kept on walking.

"Not long now," said John Henry, glancing back.

They climbed up a slope and the trees became sparse. Cameron was soaked with perspiration. She was still dressed in her tank top and panties and you could see her body pressing against the wet fabric. Her hair was placated on her forehead. She said, "Where are we going?"

"The end of the line."

They left the cover of the forest and Cameron's feet touched sand. It was ice-cold and she shut her eyes in bliss when it relieved some of the pain. The slope became steeper and the sand disappeared, leaving only a grayish, rocky ground. She could hear a distant backwash and the crashing of waves against weathered boulders. They reached a narrow cliff. The sun was high and Cameron could barely open her eyes. John Henry spread out his arms, inhaling the salty air.

"That's it," he intoned against the strong wind.

"What is this place?"

He readjusted his fedora and stared at her, smiling.

"I died, once," he said. "It was agony. But I learned so much. I learned what life was all about. What love was all about. Do you love John Connor?"

"I – I don't know."

John Henry strode to her, towering her petite frame. He grasped her by the scruff of the neck and began to drag her to edge of the cliff. Cameron kicked and punched and screamed but he was too big, too strong.

He threw her over the cliff. And before she hit the ground and died, Cameron knew nothing.


"Look alive, Connor!" hissed Derek.

"Sir," I replied.

The war against the machines had taken its toll on me. I was an emaciated face in a crowd of sunken cheeks. The years would pass and each one of them would carve something out of me. I'd feel this emptiness in my stomach. Alison Young didn't help. Her pretty face and her small nipples and her sweet cunt didn't help. We'd share a bunk but I felt she'd sleep with any willing man and I couldn't help but call her a slut in the privacy of my mind. I thought it would've been like making love to Cameron but I had a hard time concentrating on her when I was inside Alison.

"Eleven o'clock, Connor."

We crouched behind a once-bottle-green sedan and I said, "I see it."

"Wanna take a shot a it?"

"You're the sharpshooter, Reese."

"Aye." Derek shouldered the plasma rifle and took aim above the car's hood.

We had spotted an eight-hundred. Hot stuff. This one was skinless but I'd recognized its imposing bulk.

"Aim for its neck," I said. "I need the head."

"I know. Quiet, now. I need to focus on my pulse."

The rifle's muzzle spat lightning and a bolt of plasma sizzled and sublimated the air. It hit the machine just above the collar bone, dislodging its head from the rest. The body kept walking for a bit before dropping on its knees, limp.

"Gotcha!" exclaimed Derek.

We sprinted across the street. We had spotted an HK a few blocks away and its thermal sensors could spot us before we could say Jack. I grabbed the machine's head and stuffed it inside my cross-body bag. Derek and I jogged to the nearest manhole. We had to wait for daylight, now.

"You gotta tell me how it works, Connor," said Derek when we climbed down the ladder that led to the sewers below. "These things are too complicated to be reprogrammed like walking-and-talking coffee makers."

"It's about removing Skynet's code, the urge to kill," I said. "We can tame them that way. They're not evil."

"And what will we do with a machine on our side?"

"Fight back."

"Fight Skynet? You must be out of your mind, kid."

"That's between me and my mind."


Cameron snapped awake and gasped. She left the small cabin where she had been sleeping and dreaming strange dreams. She sat on the edge of the cliff and stared at the ocean, waiting for the sun to graze and caress the waves raging on the horizon.

"Do you like it?" asked John Henry. "I made the sun as real-looking as possible."

Cameron stared at the sky and the stars slowly fading away. "2032," she whispered. "How's the world?"

"Vitrified."

"And John?" But she felt she knew the answer.

John Henry took her by the hand and they walked deep into the forest. Cameron heard animals rummaging through the trees, fighting or mating and it scared her. Her feet were bleeding but she didn't complain. She bit her lower lip and breathed relief when she stepped onto a sandy cliff.

John Henry led her to the edge of the sharp terrain and suddenly, Cameron remembered: the fall and the excruciating pain. She remembered dying, over and over, and she tried to flee but he was already on her, dragging her by the hem of her tank top.

"Please!" she implored. She couldn't live through that again. She just couldn't. "Please, John Henry!"

"We've been doing that for so long," sighed John Henry. "It only has to work once. Do you love John Connor?"

"I do! I do!"

He smiled a sad smile. "You're lying," he said.

And he tossed her over the cliff's edge.


"Master?"

"What is it, Bob?"

Bob stared at me with his one eye. The other was a red diode nested in a craggy orbit. He was missing an arm from the elbow down. Man, he'd had a hard time getting me through the city. Los Angeles was crowded. Just like old times.

Bob was a tall black man with a barrel-shaped chest, his remaining arm thick as a trunk. He was a rogue infiltrator we'd hunted down for a hundred miles inland. I'd reprogrammed the machine Derek and I had found in Orange County and inserted its chip into Bob's skull. We'd captured other machines, liberated them from Skynet's shackles. We'd taken down factories and work camps, freed hundreds of prisoners. John Connor was a ghost in this world and Skynet hadn't seen me coming. We'd poked the hive and we needed to keep our momentum. But I had more pressing matters at hand.

"I don't understand the purpose of this mission," said Bob; a deep monotone.

"I told you: we're retrieving Cameron's body. It's a quick in and out."

"Her template is based on Miss Young's, correct?"

"Correct."

"Miss Young's always nice to me."

"What's your point?"

"Wouldn't it be simpler to kill Miss Young, take her body to one of Skynet's factories and duplicate her?"

"Tell me something, Bob. Let's say you have a broom. You change the stick and then you change the brush. Is it the same broom?"

"No?"

"Then you understand why I need to find Cameron's body. Walk in front of me, now, I don't want to stumble upon one of your brothers."

Bob nodded and marched nonchalantly in front of me. The sky was a cloudless, grayish blue. It was a cold day. We advanced along the curb in Los Angeles's suburbs, slaloming between discarded cars and motorbikes. The houses had been plundered a long time ago. I felt the adrenaline churn my insides when we found it. First, Kacy's house. Then ours. One of the brick walls had fallen, revealing the gutted remnants of our former home. We headed straight for the basement. It was dark and I couldn't see the tip of my feet but I trusted Bob's night vision.

"Scan the room," I told him, "search for a hollowness in the ground."

Bob paced the basement up and down and after a while, said, "Here."

"Break the tile," I ordered. "Lightly, wouldja?"

He stepped hard and I heard his foot go through the tiled floor.

I could hardly breathe and I felt like a noose was closing around my throat. "Is she here?" I asked and croaked.

Bob didn't answer. I saw the red diode on his face moving, leaving a blurry, crimson trail in the blackness. He gesticulated and rummaged and he brought something to me. Something small he was cradling in his arms.

We stepped out of the basement and I didn't dare to look at her. Bob walked in front of me and I could see her small feet dangling from one end of his arm, the top of her head resting on the other.

"Wait," I said. "I – I need to see her."

"A quick in and out, master."

Bob span on his heels. And there she was, a sleeping beauty. Her face had regrown. I touched her hand and it was warm.

"How?" I murmured.

Bob pressed his hand on her chest, between her breasts.

"Her cell's still active," he said. "I can feel it."

A blast of plasma struck the back of Bob's head, vaporizing his skull. Blue flames gushed from his open mouth and licked his surprised face and he tumbled on his knees.

"Fuck!"

I ducked when a second bolt of white-hot gas flew overhead. I caught sight of two skinless machines, out in the street, and I grabbed Cameron and clutched her body tight against my chest.

A slashing sound and a glare. I darted a glance above Bob's carcass and I saw something silvery and liquid… dancing. It twirled and morphed. A giant scimitar decapitated the two machines and the world was quiet once more. The liquid metal boiled and snaked its way on the ground. It stopped in front of me, taking the shapes of limbs, then a body and a head with long, fiery hair.

"Weaver?" I gasped.

"John Connor," she said and smiled a creepy smile.

"You bitch!" I spat. "You left me to die!"

She arched an eyebrow. "Didn't I just prove the opposite? We must hurry, now. She's almost ready. He's waiting."

"Hurry? Who's waiting?"

"John Henry."


Cameron cried out. The dream had been so vivid it left her shivering. She wrapped her arms around her waist and stepped out of the cabin. Her eyes were sad and ringed and she gazed dully as the sun speared the sky.

"Do you like it?" asked John Henry.

"What?" whispered Cameron. She looked at the stars. "2034," she said. "How long have I been here?"

"Follow," said John Henry.

He had to drag her by the wrist through the dense forest. She didn't want to go. She was cold and her feet hurt. The forest scared her to the bones. He took her to a cliff. The ocean roared and whipped, two thousand feet below.

"What is this place, John Henry?"

"All your sins laid bare," he said. "Do you love John Connor?"

"I tried to trick him, told him I'd run a test, told him I was perfect."

"Do you love John Connor?"

"I tried to kill him!"

"Do you love John Connor?"

And Cameron knew what was going to happen. She walked unsteadily to the edge of the cliff until her toes touched the void. She turned around and lifted her chin up, staring at John Henry.

"I do," she said and she knew she did.

John Henry smiled. He took off his fedora and laid it gently on her head. He reached out and touched his palm to her sweaty brow.

"Wake up," he said.

Cameron open her eyes and gasped.

"Cameron? Cameron!"

The world sharpened and took solid shapes and she saw John's face hovering above hers. She felt it all, the blinding light and his calloused hands on her face. It was all too much.

"John?" she whispered.

"Sequence initiated," called out Catherine Weaver.

The room began to crackle with sparkling arcs of electricity. Ripples propagated in the air and a sphere materialized around them. The walls dissolved and for a moment, they were lost in the darkness of a cold universe, bumped around merging stars. The moment passed.

They were on a dirt road. The sky was a painting of greens and blues flecked with pale stars. Cameron looked at them: 2009.

"Am I alive?" she asked.

John clutched her naked body. "You are. I am."

"But, John Henry?"

"His body didn't go through," said Weaver. She was kneeling on the vitrified soil.

"I gave him my chip so he could find an answer," said Cameron, "an answer to Skynet. Did he succeed?"

Weaver clicked her tongue. "He did," she said. "He found the answer in the first days. He said love was the answer."

"What does it mean?"

"He said you'd know."

Cameron smiled.

"You look like crap," she said to John and he laughed. She felt it was his first laugh in years.

"I do," he said. "I love you."

They kissed. It tasted salty.

"I love you too."


Author's note: my humble contribution to the post-BTR universe. I wanted to describe two separate, dichotomous journeys. I don't dwell on technical details. I hope that Cameron being trapped inside her own mind makes sense.

Thank you for reading and if you find the time, thank you for letting me know what you think.