The Note by Miss Widget

It was late. The stars were out, what few could be seen through the light thrown up by the city of Los Angeles, and the moon hung low, ominous and yellow. The neighbourhood was quiet, an occasional bark of a dog the only disturbance.

Yet Sarah jerked awake, going from asleep to alert instantly as a result of years of being hunted, hand slipping to the gun under her pillow while she strained to hear what had disturbed her sleep. Silence.

Flopping back down, Sarah tried to calm her heart, tried to will herself back to sleep. But no. Now, in the silence of the night ghosts came to haunt her. A parade of innocent souls that had died as a result of knowing her. Died n her fight to survive, to protect John at whatever cost.

Andy. Sweet, eager Andy with his chess playing computer, the Turk. Dead. And the latest member of her parade. Oh, she hadn't killed him. In fact, she'd decided to trust him, was on her way to tell him about Skynet and the terminators, Judgement Day and all that was to come. But he was dead when she got to his room, the Turk gone. Killed, if she wasn't very much mistaken, by the very hands of the man who, at this very moment, was hanging on to his life in this very house. Derek Reese. And wasn't that another ghost to add to her collection? Kyle Reese's brother. John's uncle. Another complication in an already far to complicated life.

With all these thoughts running through her mind, Sarah gave up on sleep and headed for the kitchen for a glass of water. A quick peek showed a peacefully sleeping John and in the lounge, Reese was still unconscious. Cameron was not in evidence.

Getting her glass and leaning against the counter, Sarah thought about the day. Other than being entirely too long and fraught with danger, it had also been very emotional for poor John. The guilt about that girl, Jordan, he'd wanted to save. The anger at Cameron for stopping him. The anger at her for agreeing with Cameron's actions. The shock of discovering that the man hurt, bleeding, dying on their kitchen table was in fact his uncle. The heartbreak of not being able to acknowledge that fact.

Sometimes, Sarah worried that it would all be too much for John, that he'd give up, run away. Leave her. The pain of that thought is so intense; it robs Sarah of her breath for a moment.

Dropping down into a chair at the table, Sarah dropped her head into her hands. The absolute loneliness, the grief at all the needless death, the tremendous burden on her shoulders seemed to crush her and Sarah struggled to breath through it, to make it through to the other side. She'd been here before. Beaten it back with pure pigheaded stubbornness. It was not going to get her tonight. The mechanics of forcing a breath into her body and then out again as all she focussed on, until the pressure eased and she could lift her head and open her eyes again.

And there, in the middle of the table was a note. Next to it was the pencil she had broken. The one that Cameron had offered to her outside earlier when she had been struggling to come to terms with Andy's death.

A weary chuckle forced its way out at the irony of a terminator offering her a form of grief counselling. Where had Cameron come up with that idea? That it helped, when one was too sad to cry, to write it down. And more disturbingly, how had she learnt to read Sarah so well? To know that under the anger was a wellspring of grief?

Sarah rubbed her eyes, thoughts of Cameron crowding in. Sarah had been keeping a very close eye on the latest terminator to fight at her side. She still had her distrust of the machine, any machine. But she was learning to rely on her. To trust her with John's safety. And to trust that, come hell or high water, Cameron was on her side. And that thought just freaked her out. Which was why she was always so angry with Cameron, at her progression towards being more human. Because she was. Sarah sometimes forgot that she was dealing with a machine. That the attractive brunette with the soft skin was in reality a 'combat chassis covered with human tissue'.

And that was the other thing that just freaked her out. She noticed Cameron. Not the machine, but Cameron. The scent of her. The colour of her hair when the light hit it just so. Or the big doe-like eyes that seemed to follow her everywhere. And the worst thing? The flutter in her stomach when Cameron brushed past her. The sense of safety when she knew Cameron had her back. The melting of her heart when Cameron tried out new things. She'd fought these feelings. But they just seemed to grow. Like weeds that kept growing back, no matter how many times you pulled them out. These feeling were there and she'd just have to deal with them. Accept them and move on.

With a nod of her head and a deep heartfelt sigh, Sarah pushed back from the table. As she stepped around the table, a single word on the note caught her eye. Sarah.

Contemplating the note, Sarah looked around. The house was still quite. Curiosity finally spurring her on, she settled down again and picked up the note and read it.

Sarah

I know that you detest what I am. I know that you do not trust me, cannot stand the sight of me. That I scare you, as a physical manifestation of all that you fear and hate and fight to destroy. I know this and accept it. It is what makes you who and what you are. It makes you Sarah Connor. The mother of John Connor.

You are strong, so strong. You are courageous. You are honest and hardworking. You are determined. You love. You love John with such intensity, such passion. And yet you do not smother him. You teach him. You build him up. You give him knowledge. What you are doing is creating the person who will eventually become John Connor, the leader of the resistance against Skynet after Judgement Day.

And you hate. You hate Skynet. You hate the cybernetic organisms that it created. You hate me.

I accept it.

But it hurts.

I hurt. I know that you believe that machines are incapable of emotions, that they are their programming. You are correct. But I am different. I am an anomaly. I learn. I grow. I feel.

I feel pride. I feel anger. I feel shame. I feel pain. I feel grief. I feel love.

I love you, Sarah.

I feel hate.

I hate what I am.

John is incorrect. Writing does not help with the sadness

I will adapt.

A tear dropped onto the page, quickly followed by another. Sarah quickly wiped at her eyes, shocked to find that she was crying. Clutching the note to her chest, Sarah tried to understand what she had just read. She hadn't believed that the machines had emotions. They didn't. But this? This note? If this wasn't emotion, then she knew nothing. Taking a deep breath, Sarah reread the note.

I love you, Sarah.

A slight noise had Sarah's head whipping up and she froze. There, at the back door, was Cameron, moonlight washing over her features.

And Sarah saw. The pain. The shame. The love. The self-hatred. All the emotions written in the note were there, clear in dark eyes. And in a single tear making it's way down Cameron's cheek.

Sarah's heart broke.

"Cameron"

In one quick move, Sarah was in front of Cameron, hand to her cheek to catch the tear, green eyes intent on brown.

"Cameron, I don't hate you. I don't. I can't."

Cameron snuggled her cheek into the palm of Sarah's hand and caused Sarah's heart to melt. Brushing her thumb across the smooth skin of her cheekbone, Sarah continued.

"Yes, you are a machine. Skynet created you for the sole purpose of hunting humans down. But Cameron, I don't' see that. I don't."

Cameron shook her head and opened her mouth to speak but Sarah shushed her with a finger to her lips.

"I see you, Cameron. Just you."

And with that, Sarah wrapped her arms around Cameron and hugged her close.

After a moment, Cameron relaxed and encircled Sarah's waist, tucking her head into the crook of Sarah's neck.

A whisper drifted up.

"I love you, Sarah."

"I know. I love you too."

The End.