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Allison is up way before John, if she ever even slept last night. Getting things ready to teach John how to bake chocolate chip cookies. She even makes a batch of cookie dough so she can show him how it should look when it's dough and bakes some cookies so he can see a finished product.
It's the first time she's baked anything since Dr Lightman. It feels odd.
When John wakes up, he'll find the kitchen very orderly prepared for Allison's Baking School.
Lucky boy.
John doubts she slept. For his part, he dreamt of people quizzing him on the difference between EAN, RMT and NPT signals, playing each one over and over again until his head pounded. It wasn't much of a surprise to him that he woke up with a pounding headache.
Shower first. Painkillers. Attempting to get his brain off certain tracks and into the here and now.
Cookies. Allison was going to show him how to bake cookies.
All right, he could do this. Eventually he wandered into the kitchen. "Hey." Small smile.
"Hi." Small smile back. "Did you sleep well?" Ah, smalltalk as she cracks eggs. God forbid John have to crack his own eggs.
"No nightmares. Weird dreams instead." John will hover, since he assumes he's supposed to be taking all this in.
She's about to ask what about, but remembers what they discussed the night before. "Put the oven at 375, then use the sifter to combine flour, baking soda and salt in that bowl." Wow, way to get all technical.
John will do all that, in exactly that order. Fortunately the boy can tell the ingredients and knows what the hell the sifter is. Shake, shake, shake.
She watches him do this, and makes adjustments in how he is holding things accordingly. Perfectionist. "Okay. Butter, sugars and vanilla extract go in the mixer."
He likes the contact, even if her perfectionist attitude makes him smirk a little. "So how many sugars?" Glancing around the counter. He sees the brown sugar.
"Two. Brown and the granulated." She even put how much you needed into each cup. "Beat it until it's creamy, then add the eggs."
"All right." John almost turns on the beaters first and then has an epiphany of uncommon sense. Yay? God their kitchen smells ridiculously good right now.
And not at all like pasta-roni. Thank God. "One egg at a time."
Hey he was following the directions! Just on the kind he'd made the night before. "Okay." One egg, added to the edge of the bowl. When it hits the beaters, John adds the next one, with all the focus of an 8-year-old who really doesn't want to mess it up.
She won't let him mess it up. She's quick. "Okay. Now add the flour mix." She'll even help, if he wants.
He does because he saw what Dib looked like during cooking and he doesn't want any of that. John gives a small nod and scoots over a bit.
He'd say something but he doesn't want to jinx it.
She smiles at him, a small smile, and helps him tilt the flour bowl into the mixing bowl. "All right. Put as many chips in as you'd like."
"If these turn out okay are you eating them too?" This is important information he'll use to determine the number of chips.
"If they turn out okay, yes." She thinks they'll be fine.
"All right." Which means John puts in double the amount of chips he originally settled on.
She smirks at that, because...really. "Get a tablespoon, and that tray over there." She'll keep an eye on the mixer.
Rummaging in silverware drawer for a measuring spoon and obtaining of tray occurs. "Got it."
Off goes the mixer. "Drop rounded spoonfulls onto the tray."
"How many?" John starts this. Doot doot doot, doot doo.
She calculates this in her head. "Twenty four. We can freeze the rest."
"Okay." That gives him room for about 3-4 per row. John wonders if Allison and Mary used to cook together but he's not going to ask that outloud. Today. Ever.
Smart idea. Good idea. They're avoiding tense conversation. "When you're done, it goes in the oven for twelve minutes."
"That's it, really?" Good grief, cookies cook quickly. "How long will they have to cool?" Halfway done!
"That's it." They really do. Luckily, they're not making a pan cookie. "Two minutes on the tray, ten on the wire rack."
Pan cookies are slightly terrifying to the boy who still has a rather underdeveloped sweet tooth. "Cool." Slight nod. More spooning. Done!
She'll open the oven door for him. Aw? "That's it. Now you just wait."
Grin. "Okay." He'll wait here, in this chair. And stops himself from asking how she's doing, oy. Managing conversations is a lot more complex than he thought it woud be.
She has absolutely no idea what to say to him. Awkward. "Will you want to eat them now, or wait?"
"I'll have a few now." Headtilt, small smile. "...We suck at this." Not baking, mind.
"I don't know what's okay to talk about."
John sighs, shrugs. "Maybe we should just kind of give up on that idea and talk about whatever we want to."
"Do you want to do that?" Head tilt.
"I'd rather we didn't sit here trying to figure out what to say to one another and failing." He's not used to being awkward around Allison. Especially for that reason. "You were always the person I could talk to, so it's odd."
"What did we used to talk about?" Maybe that would help.
"School. Projects. Idiots at school. Your ballet."
"We could talk about projects. Ballet."
"How is ballet going?" John's actually curious and he would have gone to watch if not for the fact that he's been learning how to make fake IDs.
She smiles a bit. "Better. My upper body is less mechanical. The teacher said."
John smiles more. "Is it one-on-one instruction or a whole class?" Is Allison meeting people?
"One on one for now, and when I'm less rusty I'll be with a class." So no, but soon.
"Are you looking forward to that?"
"Maybe. Yes." She's worried about that, really. About something going wrong. About glitching.
John sees this worry. "What's wrong?"
"I don't want anything to go wrong."
"You'll be okay." It's rarely sudden, god knows, unless people do shit on purpose. Ding! "How long on the tray again?"
"I know. I believe you." She does, actually. New. "Two minutes."
Small, quirky smile while John sets the timer. "I'm glad."
"You're glad?"
"That you believe me?" Why is that a question, John?
"Oh." Well, either way it makes her smile.
"Can I come watch you dance?"
Okay. That too. "If you like."
"I saw you once before." Before her birthday.
"You did? I don't remember..."
"I wasn't trying to be seen." Small, self conscious shrug. At the time he thought she'd seen him, but he was never sure. "It's beautiful. The way you dance."
She smiles at that. "I'm okay."
"I think you're beautiful." Time to move the cookies to the wire rack.
She watches him do this too. "Thank you." Because that's important. "I would like you to come watch."
"Okay, I will then." This conversation? Not so bad at all.
Not so bad at all, no. "Okay. Are things going well with your project?"
"Almost done with it." Being a perfectionist is useful, in that sense. "It's weird, I'm kind of looking forward to showing you."
"I look forward to seeing it." Not a bad conversation at all. "I like your projects."
No, now it's just a conversation alluding to illegal activity. "True. You'll be good at part of it, I think. Should be done by...beginning of June, -ish."
Well, that could be half their conversations. "That soon?"
John nods. "Some of it I already knew so it was mostly learning the hardware."
"We've certainly bought enough of them." Heh. True.
Small chuckle. "Very true."
"Will it work out?"
"I think it will, yeah." Small pause. "There's a possibility that we'll attract attention after a while."
"That seems relatively likely. What do we do about that?"
John shrugs a bit. "I'm not really sure." He might ask around, see what other folks do.
"It does not seem very difficult to relocate in Gotham." She has noticed. "And Arkham does not seem like much of a deterant."
"True, it doesn't." Still and yet... "I would rather we avoid Arkham however. Deterrant or no."
"So would I." Would she? Really? "It does seem to be some sort of right of passage with the more costumed people. Do we want to avoid them?"
Good question. "Somewhat, I think. Its the sort of attention we don't need, especially right now. If someone comes to us about this project..." Slight shrug. "We'll deal with it on a case-by-case basis."
"Yes. I can deal with the police. I'm not certain I could deal with Batman. He's very efficient."
"So far no one has dealt with Batman. I'd rather we don't even try."
She considers. "That seems fair." Really. "They should be cool enough to eat."
John can be content with fair, from Allison. "Cool." He'll grab two and hand her one, grinning.
She smiles back. "You first."
A little trepidation, there, but John goes for it. "Not bad. Not as good as yours but not bad."
She smiles again, and tries hers. Then kisses his cheek. "Good job." MUCH better than that roast. And the pasta.
That roast need never be spoken of again. Ffs. "Thanks."
She looks surprised. "What for?"
"For teaching me." Slightly bemused smile.
"I like teaching you things."
"What else do you want to teach me?" What else has she taught him?
"Cake. Maybe dancing." Good question.
"Dancing." John looks incredulous, a bit. "What have you taught me other than chocolae chip cookies."
"Not ballet." She's not that good of a teacher. "I don't know. What have I?"
"Well, I didn't think ballet." So much oh no. "...I'm not sure, really."
Just picture that. "There can't be nothing."
"I know that...still..." Small shrug. John's not sure what to say.
"It doesn't matter." Does it? "Wrap the rest of the dough up and put it in the freezer."
It does to him but he can't push it if he can't remember. "Keep it in the bowl or wrap the dough in plastic wrap?"
"I'll need the bowl again, so plastic wrap. Four times." If it's important, it'll come back. She hopes. "Pixie sticks!" ...what?
"What?" Startled John is startled.
Oh, John. "I taught you pixie sticks in root beer."
"OH. Heh. Yeah, you did."
"So that's something."
"It is." John grins, putting the cookie dough in the freezer and gathering up dishes to wash.
"What have you taught me?" One assumes she means other than 'how to shoot' and various other skills.
"How to dissassemble a hard drive." Shrug. "Ah. Hmm. We painted eggs but I don't think that counts as teaching."
"No, I've painted eggs before." Not for a very long time, but. "You'll teach me things?"
"Whatever you want to learn."
"What can you teach me?"
"I don't know. You could tell me what you want to learn and I could tell you if I canteach you anything about it."
"How to be Allison Young again."
"I'm helping you with that. Not exactly teaching."
"What's the difference?"
"...I guess I think of teaching as being something like showing you how to do a brand new thing. Its not that you never knew how to be Allison Young, its more that you forgot."
She nods. That makes sense. "Like re-learning how to walk."
"Right." John is glad she gets it. "So what new things do you want to learn, then?"
"I would like to be better with computers."
"Okay. We can do that."
"Okay." She smiles, taking another cookie. "When?"
"When the project is running, I think that's a good point." John grins. "I love you." Dishwashing!
Hopping up to sit on the counter by the sink. "All right. I love you too.
"I would really like to leave the continent with you, one day." For vacation. Forever.
It would be a hell of a lot easier to be different people, to be themselves, to get away from Sarah. That's for sure. "And go where?"
"Not Africa. Or Australia. At least not to stay."
She looks confused. "Why not Africa or Australia?"
"Because they're a bit too isolated. I think, anyway."
"Ah." That makes sense. "Asia? Antarctica? South America?"
"Yes, no, maybe."
"We'd have to learn a new language first. That could take a while." Especially without Sarah here to drill it into you.
"True." John might be better at languages, anyway. "Its an idea. Other thibgs happen first, you know?"
Computers are just another language. "Yes. It's an idea. For someday. What other things? The project?"
"The project. More stability. Getting married. Things like that."
She smiles again, tucking her legs under her. Sooner or later, she's going to be laying on the counter. "We should make plans for those things. Things like that. Lists."
Its clean; she's more than welcome to. "Will you help me make a list for that, then?"
"Yes. I will help you with that. Now?"
"As soon as I'm done with this, sure." Slight smirk. "Comfortable?"
"All right." Apparently now it is time to lay on the counter, watching him. "Yes. A bit."
"Want a pilliw?" What, John?
She makes a fft noise. "No."
"Just checking!" Smirk. Hey, dishes are done. "I'll be right back." With a pen and a notebook.
"Good to know." What, Allison. She will be here. Waiting.
And when he comes back he'll kiss her then lean against the sink. "Which part are we planning first?"
"Which park should come first?" Looking up at him. "I don't know how stable we could be."
"Getting married would come after you stop seeing metal."
She considers this, looking at her hand. No metal today. "What if I never stop seeing it? Or what if it comes back?"
"There are good days and bad days. I'd rather do that on a good day. If it comes back we work through it." He's not going to divorce you over that, or anything else.
"Today is a good day. So far." She puts her hand down, looking at him. "All right. What else?"
"Do we want to continue the project indefinitely, once it starts?" Faking passports will take a while, John knows.
"Yes. As long as we can keep it up, I think?" Or until they get caught more than once.
Nodding. That gets written down, too. "I think we'll have to figure out how long we want to stay here before we decide when we'd leave the country. At some point we'll talk about that again but I don't want to assign a time frame to it. I think we'll know."
"Six months before we decide when?"
"That works." Writing, writing.
"What else?"
"We still need to get you a car."
"Yes. Something cheap, but efficient. And automatic." Heh.
"Do you have any preferences?"
She shakes her head. "Not really, no."
"All right. We'll do that soon. I'm not sure what else."
"What else do you mean by stability?"
"Well. Our place looks more lived in and we look less like the Greyhound bus just dropped us off. Mostly I mean mental stability."
"We might need help with that. We need to get that and not just say we will."
"Who should we ask for help, then?"
"There must be people that can help." Not Dr Lightman. "Maybe Livvie knows someone?"
"We could ask her, yeah. That's fine." Dr Lightman couldn't give John directions to the nearest corner store.
"Should I email her?"
"Sure!"
"Later, I think." One hand behind her head. "What could we tell them, if we found someone?"
John thinks about it. "That we lived with someone who suffered from paranoid delusions. That there were probably drugs involved but we ran away. I'll have to think about what else."
She nods. "You'll tell me what to say?"
"I think you'll get a feel for what to say, too."
"Yes. Once I can see the details, and have parameters."
"You're pretty good at figuring that kind of thing out. I'd probably be willing to see a doctor too, once we're sure that whomever is trustworthy."
"Really?" That really does surprise her.
John shrugs. "You're not the only one who needs it."
"I know. I wasn't sure that you'd want it."
"Well. I probably wouldn't have, before."
"I'm glad you want to." She hmms. "Someone with experience treating soldiers, maybe."
"Probably. I don't think we'll ever stop being that. Its not that I want to...not be who I am but I want to be more of a person." Shrug. "Can't really ask you to be that if I'm not willing to do it to. I /could/ but I don't think its right."
"I'll try. To be more of a person. Less of a machine."
"And I'll try to be more of a person and less the future leader of the resistance or whatever you would call me on a bad day."
"Leader of Tech-Comm, the human resistance against the machines." Blink. "Sorry." *Fuck* call and response.
John raises his eyebrows. "Future asshole of America, yeah." Hair petting. "Its okay."
"Well. Maybe." Heh. "Is it? Why?"
"I'm not sure I like future-me as a person, for the record." He's totally an asshole. "Because you didn't mean to and I didn't mean to trigger that."
"Apparently, we talked a lot." In the future. That isn't real. Oh, Sarah. Oh, *Sarah*. "It's okay."
"Do you believe that?" Right now John's having a hard time swallowing it. "About future-me, I mean."
"That we talk, or that he exists in the way Sarah says?"
"The second one." He doesn't want to get into the physics of a future version of himself not existing.
"Sometimes. Sometimes, I think I remember it." But. "But not right now, no."
John nods. "Okay." He wonders what Allison is really remembering.
It's possible she's remembering actual conversations with actual John. Or dreams. "Do you? Ever?"
"I don't know. I remember conversations we had and laterforgot. Conversations when I was out of it, or really lucid."
"Like what?"
"Like what I would do if it happened the next night. What I would want to do instead. Why I'm glad I'm an only child."
Well, that sounds...familiar. "About how lonely it is to be John Connor."
"I think that was a recurring topic."
"Infiltration. We talked about that."
"Yes. Whether someone could be one without knowing." God, /that/ was a fun topic.
"How long they could be one without knowing. You wanted to know if Allison had ever been real..."
John closes his eyes. "I had problems reconciling the person you were with the girl I knew before."
"Yes. I know." Now. "It's better now, yes?
"Much better." John sighs. "I feel really fucking stupid thinking about it though"
"Because I should've realized sooner. That I was in love with you because you were stull the same person, just changed. Because of Sarah."
"That isn't your fault. Don't feel stupid for that."
"I'll try." No promises, though.
"She used to say I was like my father." Allison hmms. "What else did we talk about?"
"We wondered why the Resistance wasn't worldwide. If compromises could be reached. If everything was like Skynet."
"Three people can't fight a war machine." Remembering. "You wanted to reach out. To machines."
"Yes. I still think I'd end up trying that."
She nods. "If it's real? If she's still crazy, but it's real?"
"Yes, exactly."
Long pause. "If it's real, I'm not a machine. Yes?"
"Oh yes. That was bullshit from the start."
She nods. "Good. I don't want to be a machine." Really?
"I don't want you to be one either."
"I know you don't. I'll try."
"You try a lot, I know. Thank you."
"Is it enough?"
"Its more than enough."
"Even if I fail?"
"I fail at shit all the time."
"Important things?"
"I think so."
She considers this. "All right. What else would you like to talk about?"
"Are you happy, right now?"
"At this very moment in time?" She considers this. "Yes. I think so. Are you?"
"Yeah, I am." Smirk. "You're cute." What with the laying all over the counter.
She smirks back. Just a little. "I'm cute? Really?"
"You are. Really."
She grins. Clearly, someone's feeling more herself. "Do you want to try baking something else?"
"Sure. Should probably have some real food too, at some point."
"No pizza." Stern look.
"That's not real food, Allison."
"Good pizza is. What do you want for dinner?"
"Good pizza isn't in this town. Stir fry?"
"Make it or order it?"
"Make it definitely."
She smiles again, kissing him. "Okay. We can do that."
It's the first time she's baked anything since Dr Lightman. It feels odd.
When John wakes up, he'll find the kitchen very orderly prepared for Allison's Baking School.
Lucky boy.
John doubts she slept. For his part, he dreamt of people quizzing him on the difference between EAN, RMT and NPT signals, playing each one over and over again until his head pounded. It wasn't much of a surprise to him that he woke up with a pounding headache.
Shower first. Painkillers. Attempting to get his brain off certain tracks and into the here and now.
Cookies. Allison was going to show him how to bake cookies.
All right, he could do this. Eventually he wandered into the kitchen. "Hey." Small smile.
"Hi." Small smile back. "Did you sleep well?" Ah, smalltalk as she cracks eggs. God forbid John have to crack his own eggs.
"No nightmares. Weird dreams instead." John will hover, since he assumes he's supposed to be taking all this in.
She's about to ask what about, but remembers what they discussed the night before. "Put the oven at 375, then use the sifter to combine flour, baking soda and salt in that bowl." Wow, way to get all technical.
John will do all that, in exactly that order. Fortunately the boy can tell the ingredients and knows what the hell the sifter is. Shake, shake, shake.
She watches him do this, and makes adjustments in how he is holding things accordingly. Perfectionist. "Okay. Butter, sugars and vanilla extract go in the mixer."
He likes the contact, even if her perfectionist attitude makes him smirk a little. "So how many sugars?" Glancing around the counter. He sees the brown sugar.
"Two. Brown and the granulated." She even put how much you needed into each cup. "Beat it until it's creamy, then add the eggs."
"All right." John almost turns on the beaters first and then has an epiphany of uncommon sense. Yay? God their kitchen smells ridiculously good right now.
And not at all like pasta-roni. Thank God. "One egg at a time."
Hey he was following the directions! Just on the kind he'd made the night before. "Okay." One egg, added to the edge of the bowl. When it hits the beaters, John adds the next one, with all the focus of an 8-year-old who really doesn't want to mess it up.
She won't let him mess it up. She's quick. "Okay. Now add the flour mix." She'll even help, if he wants.
He does because he saw what Dib looked like during cooking and he doesn't want any of that. John gives a small nod and scoots over a bit.
He'd say something but he doesn't want to jinx it.
She smiles at him, a small smile, and helps him tilt the flour bowl into the mixing bowl. "All right. Put as many chips in as you'd like."
"If these turn out okay are you eating them too?" This is important information he'll use to determine the number of chips.
"If they turn out okay, yes." She thinks they'll be fine.
"All right." Which means John puts in double the amount of chips he originally settled on.
She smirks at that, because...really. "Get a tablespoon, and that tray over there." She'll keep an eye on the mixer.
Rummaging in silverware drawer for a measuring spoon and obtaining of tray occurs. "Got it."
Off goes the mixer. "Drop rounded spoonfulls onto the tray."
"How many?" John starts this. Doot doot doot, doot doo.
She calculates this in her head. "Twenty four. We can freeze the rest."
"Okay." That gives him room for about 3-4 per row. John wonders if Allison and Mary used to cook together but he's not going to ask that outloud. Today. Ever.
Smart idea. Good idea. They're avoiding tense conversation. "When you're done, it goes in the oven for twelve minutes."
"That's it, really?" Good grief, cookies cook quickly. "How long will they have to cool?" Halfway done!
"That's it." They really do. Luckily, they're not making a pan cookie. "Two minutes on the tray, ten on the wire rack."
Pan cookies are slightly terrifying to the boy who still has a rather underdeveloped sweet tooth. "Cool." Slight nod. More spooning. Done!
She'll open the oven door for him. Aw? "That's it. Now you just wait."
Grin. "Okay." He'll wait here, in this chair. And stops himself from asking how she's doing, oy. Managing conversations is a lot more complex than he thought it woud be.
She has absolutely no idea what to say to him. Awkward. "Will you want to eat them now, or wait?"
"I'll have a few now." Headtilt, small smile. "...We suck at this." Not baking, mind.
"I don't know what's okay to talk about."
John sighs, shrugs. "Maybe we should just kind of give up on that idea and talk about whatever we want to."
"Do you want to do that?" Head tilt.
"I'd rather we didn't sit here trying to figure out what to say to one another and failing." He's not used to being awkward around Allison. Especially for that reason. "You were always the person I could talk to, so it's odd."
"What did we used to talk about?" Maybe that would help.
"School. Projects. Idiots at school. Your ballet."
"We could talk about projects. Ballet."
"How is ballet going?" John's actually curious and he would have gone to watch if not for the fact that he's been learning how to make fake IDs.
She smiles a bit. "Better. My upper body is less mechanical. The teacher said."
John smiles more. "Is it one-on-one instruction or a whole class?" Is Allison meeting people?
"One on one for now, and when I'm less rusty I'll be with a class." So no, but soon.
"Are you looking forward to that?"
"Maybe. Yes." She's worried about that, really. About something going wrong. About glitching.
John sees this worry. "What's wrong?"
"I don't want anything to go wrong."
"You'll be okay." It's rarely sudden, god knows, unless people do shit on purpose. Ding! "How long on the tray again?"
"I know. I believe you." She does, actually. New. "Two minutes."
Small, quirky smile while John sets the timer. "I'm glad."
"You're glad?"
"That you believe me?" Why is that a question, John?
"Oh." Well, either way it makes her smile.
"Can I come watch you dance?"
Okay. That too. "If you like."
"I saw you once before." Before her birthday.
"You did? I don't remember..."
"I wasn't trying to be seen." Small, self conscious shrug. At the time he thought she'd seen him, but he was never sure. "It's beautiful. The way you dance."
She smiles at that. "I'm okay."
"I think you're beautiful." Time to move the cookies to the wire rack.
She watches him do this too. "Thank you." Because that's important. "I would like you to come watch."
"Okay, I will then." This conversation? Not so bad at all.
Not so bad at all, no. "Okay. Are things going well with your project?"
"Almost done with it." Being a perfectionist is useful, in that sense. "It's weird, I'm kind of looking forward to showing you."
"I look forward to seeing it." Not a bad conversation at all. "I like your projects."
No, now it's just a conversation alluding to illegal activity. "True. You'll be good at part of it, I think. Should be done by...beginning of June, -ish."
Well, that could be half their conversations. "That soon?"
John nods. "Some of it I already knew so it was mostly learning the hardware."
"We've certainly bought enough of them." Heh. True.
Small chuckle. "Very true."
"Will it work out?"
"I think it will, yeah." Small pause. "There's a possibility that we'll attract attention after a while."
"That seems relatively likely. What do we do about that?"
John shrugs a bit. "I'm not really sure." He might ask around, see what other folks do.
"It does not seem very difficult to relocate in Gotham." She has noticed. "And Arkham does not seem like much of a deterant."
"True, it doesn't." Still and yet... "I would rather we avoid Arkham however. Deterrant or no."
"So would I." Would she? Really? "It does seem to be some sort of right of passage with the more costumed people. Do we want to avoid them?"
Good question. "Somewhat, I think. Its the sort of attention we don't need, especially right now. If someone comes to us about this project..." Slight shrug. "We'll deal with it on a case-by-case basis."
"Yes. I can deal with the police. I'm not certain I could deal with Batman. He's very efficient."
"So far no one has dealt with Batman. I'd rather we don't even try."
She considers. "That seems fair." Really. "They should be cool enough to eat."
John can be content with fair, from Allison. "Cool." He'll grab two and hand her one, grinning.
She smiles back. "You first."
A little trepidation, there, but John goes for it. "Not bad. Not as good as yours but not bad."
She smiles again, and tries hers. Then kisses his cheek. "Good job." MUCH better than that roast. And the pasta.
That roast need never be spoken of again. Ffs. "Thanks."
She looks surprised. "What for?"
"For teaching me." Slightly bemused smile.
"I like teaching you things."
"What else do you want to teach me?" What else has she taught him?
"Cake. Maybe dancing." Good question.
"Dancing." John looks incredulous, a bit. "What have you taught me other than chocolae chip cookies."
"Not ballet." She's not that good of a teacher. "I don't know. What have I?"
"Well, I didn't think ballet." So much oh no. "...I'm not sure, really."
Just picture that. "There can't be nothing."
"I know that...still..." Small shrug. John's not sure what to say.
"It doesn't matter." Does it? "Wrap the rest of the dough up and put it in the freezer."
It does to him but he can't push it if he can't remember. "Keep it in the bowl or wrap the dough in plastic wrap?"
"I'll need the bowl again, so plastic wrap. Four times." If it's important, it'll come back. She hopes. "Pixie sticks!" ...what?
"What?" Startled John is startled.
Oh, John. "I taught you pixie sticks in root beer."
"OH. Heh. Yeah, you did."
"So that's something."
"It is." John grins, putting the cookie dough in the freezer and gathering up dishes to wash.
"What have you taught me?" One assumes she means other than 'how to shoot' and various other skills.
"How to dissassemble a hard drive." Shrug. "Ah. Hmm. We painted eggs but I don't think that counts as teaching."
"No, I've painted eggs before." Not for a very long time, but. "You'll teach me things?"
"Whatever you want to learn."
"What can you teach me?"
"I don't know. You could tell me what you want to learn and I could tell you if I canteach you anything about it."
"How to be Allison Young again."
"I'm helping you with that. Not exactly teaching."
"What's the difference?"
"...I guess I think of teaching as being something like showing you how to do a brand new thing. Its not that you never knew how to be Allison Young, its more that you forgot."
She nods. That makes sense. "Like re-learning how to walk."
"Right." John is glad she gets it. "So what new things do you want to learn, then?"
"I would like to be better with computers."
"Okay. We can do that."
"Okay." She smiles, taking another cookie. "When?"
"When the project is running, I think that's a good point." John grins. "I love you." Dishwashing!
Hopping up to sit on the counter by the sink. "All right. I love you too.
"I would really like to leave the continent with you, one day." For vacation. Forever.
It would be a hell of a lot easier to be different people, to be themselves, to get away from Sarah. That's for sure. "And go where?"
"Not Africa. Or Australia. At least not to stay."
She looks confused. "Why not Africa or Australia?"
"Because they're a bit too isolated. I think, anyway."
"Ah." That makes sense. "Asia? Antarctica? South America?"
"Yes, no, maybe."
"We'd have to learn a new language first. That could take a while." Especially without Sarah here to drill it into you.
"True." John might be better at languages, anyway. "Its an idea. Other thibgs happen first, you know?"
Computers are just another language. "Yes. It's an idea. For someday. What other things? The project?"
"The project. More stability. Getting married. Things like that."
She smiles again, tucking her legs under her. Sooner or later, she's going to be laying on the counter. "We should make plans for those things. Things like that. Lists."
Its clean; she's more than welcome to. "Will you help me make a list for that, then?"
"Yes. I will help you with that. Now?"
"As soon as I'm done with this, sure." Slight smirk. "Comfortable?"
"All right." Apparently now it is time to lay on the counter, watching him. "Yes. A bit."
"Want a pilliw?" What, John?
She makes a fft noise. "No."
"Just checking!" Smirk. Hey, dishes are done. "I'll be right back." With a pen and a notebook.
"Good to know." What, Allison. She will be here. Waiting.
And when he comes back he'll kiss her then lean against the sink. "Which part are we planning first?"
"Which park should come first?" Looking up at him. "I don't know how stable we could be."
"Getting married would come after you stop seeing metal."
She considers this, looking at her hand. No metal today. "What if I never stop seeing it? Or what if it comes back?"
"There are good days and bad days. I'd rather do that on a good day. If it comes back we work through it." He's not going to divorce you over that, or anything else.
"Today is a good day. So far." She puts her hand down, looking at him. "All right. What else?"
"Do we want to continue the project indefinitely, once it starts?" Faking passports will take a while, John knows.
"Yes. As long as we can keep it up, I think?" Or until they get caught more than once.
Nodding. That gets written down, too. "I think we'll have to figure out how long we want to stay here before we decide when we'd leave the country. At some point we'll talk about that again but I don't want to assign a time frame to it. I think we'll know."
"Six months before we decide when?"
"That works." Writing, writing.
"What else?"
"We still need to get you a car."
"Yes. Something cheap, but efficient. And automatic." Heh.
"Do you have any preferences?"
She shakes her head. "Not really, no."
"All right. We'll do that soon. I'm not sure what else."
"What else do you mean by stability?"
"Well. Our place looks more lived in and we look less like the Greyhound bus just dropped us off. Mostly I mean mental stability."
"We might need help with that. We need to get that and not just say we will."
"Who should we ask for help, then?"
"There must be people that can help." Not Dr Lightman. "Maybe Livvie knows someone?"
"We could ask her, yeah. That's fine." Dr Lightman couldn't give John directions to the nearest corner store.
"Should I email her?"
"Sure!"
"Later, I think." One hand behind her head. "What could we tell them, if we found someone?"
John thinks about it. "That we lived with someone who suffered from paranoid delusions. That there were probably drugs involved but we ran away. I'll have to think about what else."
She nods. "You'll tell me what to say?"
"I think you'll get a feel for what to say, too."
"Yes. Once I can see the details, and have parameters."
"You're pretty good at figuring that kind of thing out. I'd probably be willing to see a doctor too, once we're sure that whomever is trustworthy."
"Really?" That really does surprise her.
John shrugs. "You're not the only one who needs it."
"I know. I wasn't sure that you'd want it."
"Well. I probably wouldn't have, before."
"I'm glad you want to." She hmms. "Someone with experience treating soldiers, maybe."
"Probably. I don't think we'll ever stop being that. Its not that I want to...not be who I am but I want to be more of a person." Shrug. "Can't really ask you to be that if I'm not willing to do it to. I /could/ but I don't think its right."
"I'll try. To be more of a person. Less of a machine."
"And I'll try to be more of a person and less the future leader of the resistance or whatever you would call me on a bad day."
"Leader of Tech-Comm, the human resistance against the machines." Blink. "Sorry." *Fuck* call and response.
John raises his eyebrows. "Future asshole of America, yeah." Hair petting. "Its okay."
"Well. Maybe." Heh. "Is it? Why?"
"I'm not sure I like future-me as a person, for the record." He's totally an asshole. "Because you didn't mean to and I didn't mean to trigger that."
"Apparently, we talked a lot." In the future. That isn't real. Oh, Sarah. Oh, *Sarah*. "It's okay."
"Do you believe that?" Right now John's having a hard time swallowing it. "About future-me, I mean."
"That we talk, or that he exists in the way Sarah says?"
"The second one." He doesn't want to get into the physics of a future version of himself not existing.
"Sometimes. Sometimes, I think I remember it." But. "But not right now, no."
John nods. "Okay." He wonders what Allison is really remembering.
It's possible she's remembering actual conversations with actual John. Or dreams. "Do you? Ever?"
"I don't know. I remember conversations we had and laterforgot. Conversations when I was out of it, or really lucid."
"Like what?"
"Like what I would do if it happened the next night. What I would want to do instead. Why I'm glad I'm an only child."
Well, that sounds...familiar. "About how lonely it is to be John Connor."
"I think that was a recurring topic."
"Infiltration. We talked about that."
"Yes. Whether someone could be one without knowing." God, /that/ was a fun topic.
"How long they could be one without knowing. You wanted to know if Allison had ever been real..."
John closes his eyes. "I had problems reconciling the person you were with the girl I knew before."
"Yes. I know." Now. "It's better now, yes?
"Much better." John sighs. "I feel really fucking stupid thinking about it though"
"Because I should've realized sooner. That I was in love with you because you were stull the same person, just changed. Because of Sarah."
"That isn't your fault. Don't feel stupid for that."
"I'll try." No promises, though.
"She used to say I was like my father." Allison hmms. "What else did we talk about?"
"We wondered why the Resistance wasn't worldwide. If compromises could be reached. If everything was like Skynet."
"Three people can't fight a war machine." Remembering. "You wanted to reach out. To machines."
"Yes. I still think I'd end up trying that."
She nods. "If it's real? If she's still crazy, but it's real?"
"Yes, exactly."
Long pause. "If it's real, I'm not a machine. Yes?"
"Oh yes. That was bullshit from the start."
She nods. "Good. I don't want to be a machine." Really?
"I don't want you to be one either."
"I know you don't. I'll try."
"You try a lot, I know. Thank you."
"Is it enough?"
"Its more than enough."
"Even if I fail?"
"I fail at shit all the time."
"Important things?"
"I think so."
She considers this. "All right. What else would you like to talk about?"
"Are you happy, right now?"
"At this very moment in time?" She considers this. "Yes. I think so. Are you?"
"Yeah, I am." Smirk. "You're cute." What with the laying all over the counter.
She smirks back. Just a little. "I'm cute? Really?"
"You are. Really."
She grins. Clearly, someone's feeling more herself. "Do you want to try baking something else?"
"Sure. Should probably have some real food too, at some point."
"No pizza." Stern look.
"That's not real food, Allison."
"Good pizza is. What do you want for dinner?"
"Good pizza isn't in this town. Stir fry?"
"Make it or order it?"
"Make it definitely."
She smiles again, kissing him. "Okay. We can do that."