[SCC] Piecemeal - IAWL - John Connor, Allison Young - Gen
TITLE: Piecemeal
SERIES: It’s a Wonderful Life
AUTHOR: indiefic
CHARACTERS: John Connor, Allison Young
RATING: Gen
WORD COUNT: ~900
WARNINGS: Spoilers for all of season 2.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Don't know who does.
TIMELINE: post Judgment Day
NOTES: This is a series of vignettes set post “Born to Run”
SUMMARY: there might be something useful in the ruins.
***
John sees Allison out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t acknowledge her, intent on piecing through the mangled pile of electronic equipment. He had hoped that since this building used to house Ziera Corp that there might be something useful in the ruins, but that hope was quickly dying. Still, this is preferable to mingling with the rest of the unit, pretending he doesn’t notice how uncomfortable he makes them.
“You’ve been down here a long time,” Allison says, lowering herself to the filthy concrete floor next to him.
He shrugs.
“It’s not safe,” she continues, looking pointedly at his rifle propped against the wall, not exactly in easy reach. “You need backup.”
John looks at her, holds her gaze for a long moment. “Yeah,” he snorts. “I’ll be sure to pick someone from the horde that are dying to watch my back.”
Allison frowns and John knows he unintentionally bruised her feelings. For that, he feels bad. It’s still hard for him to remember he can’t talk to her the way he could talk to Cameron. Unlike Cameron, Allison takes things personally. But also unlike Cameron, when Allison smiles, she actually means it. And he’s relatively sure Allison isn’t going to glitch out and make an attempt on his life.
“Hey,” he says, contrite. “Sorry. I just …” He trails off, unsure of how to finish the sentence so he doesn’t. In frustration, he drags a grease covered hand through his spiky hair.
Allison smiles softly then, reaches over and uses her thumb to wipe a grease smudge from his forehead.
He smiles nervously as she finally removes her hand.
“You’re sweet,” she says.
He smiles tightly. “You are definitely the only person who thinks that.”
The smile dies from her eyes and she contemplates him seriously. “You scared them,” she admits. “With that thing you did during the last raid.”
Unconsciously, John’s hand goes to the vest pocket that contains the chip he pulled from the mangled triple eight endo. The machine had still been scrabbling for purchase among the rubble, still lethal when John used his knife to pry out the chip. His sense of triumph had been short lived as he turned and found the rest of his crew watching him with open suspicion. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “Why do you think I’m down here freezing my ass off alone?”
She purses her lips at him. “Kyle trusts you. And the rest of the camp follows him.”
John nods, ducking his head. Allison is right. Kyle does seem to trust him. Or if it’s not trust, at least he isn’t openly looking for a reason to boot John out of camp. John knows it would be in his best interest to play up that connection, but it’s still so awkward for him being so close to both Kyle and Derek with neither of them having any idea who he is. “I know,” he says. “I would just rather find a way to show them that what I did has its uses.”
Allison doesn’t immediately reply. She just looks at him, her head tilted to the side in an expression that is so reminiscent of Cameron’s mannerisms but at the same time, completely wrong. Like an imperfect imitation - though, he assumes it was Cameron who was the imperfect imitation of Allison and not the other way around.
“You understand the machines, don’t you?” Allison asks quietly.
John swallows thickly, about to choke on this particular irony. “I don’t know,” he says evasively. “But I think having more information on the enemy is a good thing.”
“Information,” Allison says and then looks pointedly at where John’s hand rests over the triple eight’s chip. “Can you get information from it?”
He shrugs and looks forlornly at the mound of useless electronic equipment. “Maybe,” he says feebly. He picks up a piece of crumbling circuit board. “If I had the right equipment.”
She studies him intently for a moment, like she has a secret she’s not certain she wants to share. And then, she smiles again, softly. “There’s another resistance camp. At Serrano Point. They have techs. Techs who might be able to do the things you’re talking about.”
“Serrano Point,” John says, eyes narrowing. “The nuclear power plant?”
Allison nods.
“The machines don’t control it?”
Her brow furrows and she gives him a funny look. “No. It’s a resistance camp,” she says, shaking her head. “One of the Friendlies.”
“Friendly?” John repeats, brow furrowed, a smile tugging at his lips. “There are unfriendly resistance camps?”
Allison nods gravely. “There are some camps that raid other resistance camps.”
John’s jaw falls open. They’re in the middle of a war for the very future of humanity and people are wasting resources warring with each other?
“All of the camps are autonomous. Some camps get along better than others. We look out for each other when we can, but mostly we stick to ourselves. But there might be people at Serrano Point that could help you.”
John nods. Serrano Point.
[end section]
SERIES: It’s a Wonderful Life
AUTHOR: indiefic
CHARACTERS: John Connor, Allison Young
RATING: Gen
WORD COUNT: ~900
WARNINGS: Spoilers for all of season 2.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Don't know who does.
TIMELINE: post Judgment Day
NOTES: This is a series of vignettes set post “Born to Run”
SUMMARY: there might be something useful in the ruins.
***
John sees Allison out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t acknowledge her, intent on piecing through the mangled pile of electronic equipment. He had hoped that since this building used to house Ziera Corp that there might be something useful in the ruins, but that hope was quickly dying. Still, this is preferable to mingling with the rest of the unit, pretending he doesn’t notice how uncomfortable he makes them.
“You’ve been down here a long time,” Allison says, lowering herself to the filthy concrete floor next to him.
He shrugs.
“It’s not safe,” she continues, looking pointedly at his rifle propped against the wall, not exactly in easy reach. “You need backup.”
John looks at her, holds her gaze for a long moment. “Yeah,” he snorts. “I’ll be sure to pick someone from the horde that are dying to watch my back.”
Allison frowns and John knows he unintentionally bruised her feelings. For that, he feels bad. It’s still hard for him to remember he can’t talk to her the way he could talk to Cameron. Unlike Cameron, Allison takes things personally. But also unlike Cameron, when Allison smiles, she actually means it. And he’s relatively sure Allison isn’t going to glitch out and make an attempt on his life.
“Hey,” he says, contrite. “Sorry. I just …” He trails off, unsure of how to finish the sentence so he doesn’t. In frustration, he drags a grease covered hand through his spiky hair.
Allison smiles softly then, reaches over and uses her thumb to wipe a grease smudge from his forehead.
He smiles nervously as she finally removes her hand.
“You’re sweet,” she says.
He smiles tightly. “You are definitely the only person who thinks that.”
The smile dies from her eyes and she contemplates him seriously. “You scared them,” she admits. “With that thing you did during the last raid.”
Unconsciously, John’s hand goes to the vest pocket that contains the chip he pulled from the mangled triple eight endo. The machine had still been scrabbling for purchase among the rubble, still lethal when John used his knife to pry out the chip. His sense of triumph had been short lived as he turned and found the rest of his crew watching him with open suspicion. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “Why do you think I’m down here freezing my ass off alone?”
She purses her lips at him. “Kyle trusts you. And the rest of the camp follows him.”
John nods, ducking his head. Allison is right. Kyle does seem to trust him. Or if it’s not trust, at least he isn’t openly looking for a reason to boot John out of camp. John knows it would be in his best interest to play up that connection, but it’s still so awkward for him being so close to both Kyle and Derek with neither of them having any idea who he is. “I know,” he says. “I would just rather find a way to show them that what I did has its uses.”
Allison doesn’t immediately reply. She just looks at him, her head tilted to the side in an expression that is so reminiscent of Cameron’s mannerisms but at the same time, completely wrong. Like an imperfect imitation - though, he assumes it was Cameron who was the imperfect imitation of Allison and not the other way around.
“You understand the machines, don’t you?” Allison asks quietly.
John swallows thickly, about to choke on this particular irony. “I don’t know,” he says evasively. “But I think having more information on the enemy is a good thing.”
“Information,” Allison says and then looks pointedly at where John’s hand rests over the triple eight’s chip. “Can you get information from it?”
He shrugs and looks forlornly at the mound of useless electronic equipment. “Maybe,” he says feebly. He picks up a piece of crumbling circuit board. “If I had the right equipment.”
She studies him intently for a moment, like she has a secret she’s not certain she wants to share. And then, she smiles again, softly. “There’s another resistance camp. At Serrano Point. They have techs. Techs who might be able to do the things you’re talking about.”
“Serrano Point,” John says, eyes narrowing. “The nuclear power plant?”
Allison nods.
“The machines don’t control it?”
Her brow furrows and she gives him a funny look. “No. It’s a resistance camp,” she says, shaking her head. “One of the Friendlies.”
“Friendly?” John repeats, brow furrowed, a smile tugging at his lips. “There are unfriendly resistance camps?”
Allison nods gravely. “There are some camps that raid other resistance camps.”
John’s jaw falls open. They’re in the middle of a war for the very future of humanity and people are wasting resources warring with each other?
“All of the camps are autonomous. Some camps get along better than others. We look out for each other when we can, but mostly we stick to ourselves. But there might be people at Serrano Point that could help you.”
John nods. Serrano Point.
[end section]