Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles - Off to See the Wizard (1/1)- Gen with hints of John/Cameron
Title: Off to See the Wizard (1/1)
Author: Tonya (_fullofgrace)
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen with small hints of John/Cameron
Disclaimer: The usuals. No own, no sue.
Word count: ~2000
Summary: Cameron knows the story of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
******
Derek finds the metal at its usual position at two in the morning.
It’s not unusual for him and it--cause no matter what has happened, he still can’t bring himself to call it a her--to be up at late hours. He’s a light-sleeper, always has been since the sky started to burn, and his body has gotten used to functioning on four or less hours of sleep.
Usually he passes the metal with only a glance in its direction, a glance that is never returned. But tonight is different, and he finds himself stopping just over the metal’s shoulder, arms folded across his chest in defiance.
He never expects to see the machine, standing alert as ever, shotgun strapped against her back, with an open book in her hands.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks gruffly, nothing but accusation and hatred dripping from his words.
It looks up from the book--The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, he catches on the spine--and something about seeing her reading that book, out of all the ones on the shelves, makes his skin crawl.
“I am reading,” she responds in that monotone way of hers that always makes him itch to reach for his gun.
“Yeah, I see that,” he replies, an edge of annoyance to his voice, “shouldn’t you be watching the perimeter? Being useful?”
“The perimeter has been clear for two hours, thirty-three minutes, and twelve seconds.”
“You can’t keep guard and read at the same time.”
“I check the perimeter every minute for a count of thirty-two seconds while reading,” she explains as if this is the most normal thing in the world. “Probability of any threat levels changing in the remaining twenty-eight seconds is at 5.4% chance.” She looks at him, and if she were human, Derek would swear she had a look of smugness to her. “The perimeter is clear.”
With that, she dog-ears her book page and moves towards the kitchen, book tucked under her arm and shotgun swung to the front of her body.
Derek watches, a deep frown on his face, as she positions herself at the kitchen window. She stands perfectly still, eyes focused out the window, and he catches himself counting the seconds quietly, lips moving in a whisper of words.
He gets to thirty-two-one-thousand, and his lips still as she opens her book and reads again.
He doesn’t like the metal like this, doesn’t like her doing things of her own accordance. Nothing about her developing some sense of self could ever be a good thing.
He shoots one last glare in her direction before going back towards his room.
They should have burned the metal when they had the chance.
******
Derek says they’re going to need more firepower for the job, and Sarah hates to admit that, for once, she agrees. She leaves him cleaning guns in the kitchen as she goes to the nursery, to Cameron’s supposed room.
The room is untouched, much like most the rooms of the house, but more so here considering Cameron rarely uses it, if she uses it at all. The crib is still in the center of the room, and a light green and yellow border runs around the edge of the walls.
Sarah goes to the toychest where she knows Cameron stores part of their artillery, and she stops in her tracks, a lump caught in her throat, as she sees an open book sitting atop the closed lid.
She recognizes the words immediately. She read the same words to John almost every night, most times in Spanish and other times in English.
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
In Cameron’s room.
The book is in her shaky hands when Cameron steps into the room. “Did you find the rounds you required?” she asks.
Sarah doesn’t turn to look at her for a moment, just clutches the book in her hands, closing her eyes and steadying her breath. When she finally turns on the machine, Cameron has her head cocked to the side in that quizzical manner that has become almost human now.
Sarah holds up the book, her voice low and on edge. “What is this?” she asks.
“The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” Cameron replies literally, “Written by L. Frank Baum in 1900. It is the story of--”
“I know what it’s the story of,” she snaps with an agitated sigh. “What is it doing in here?”
“I am reading.”
Sarah isn’t sure how to handle that statement.
Reading is not something Cameron should be doing, not unless directly ordered to do so. Reading for enjoyment is… it’s natural. It’s human. And thinking of Cameron, sitting on the floor of an unused nursery reading The Wizard of Oz, almost makes her want to cry.
Cry at the absurdity of it all.
Cry at the thought that this is how it happens, this is how Skynet finally wins.
By becoming them.
“You don’t read,” she says through clenched teeth.
Cameron tilts her head in the opposite direction.
“You don’t read,” she says again, louder, as she shoulders past Cameron, book clutched in her hands and thoughts of artillery long gone.
They cannot appreciate beauty - they cannot create art. If they ever learn these things, they won't have to destroy us. They'll be us.
******
John sits at the kitchen table, laptop open as he tries to decipher parts of the message left in blood in the garage. He doesn’t look up when Cameron sits down across from him.
His mom and Derek are following up on another lead and have left them to hold down the fort, which for him meant researching and for Cameron meant hovering.
They sit in silence, and he still doesn’t look up as he asks her to fetch him a coke from the fridge. When he doesn’t hear her make a sound to move, he finally looks up at her, over the edge of his screen.
He raises a curious eyebrow at the book she has open in front of her and appears to be currently reading.
“What are you doing?” he finally asks, his curiosity getting the best of him.
She finally looks up at him. “I am reading.”
When he doesn’t respond, she lowers her gaze and turns the page.
John blinks at her, trying to get his mind to wrap around this new hobby of hers. “Are you--” he hesitates with a frown. “Is your chip malfunctioning again?” he asks, the memory of Allison playing foosball still fresh in his mind.
“No,” she states simply, gaze still focused in her book.
He slowly closes up his laptop. “Can I ask why you’re reading now?”
“Because it is the most optimal time of day to do so,” she says, taking his question more literally than he had intended. “I am only able to read at 24.2% of my normal capacity during my patrols at night.”
This news makes him uneasy, not because he fears she’ll miss something if she’s occupied but because she is occupied. She’s doing something without a direct objective or mission, something for pleasure and knowledge.
Something that any normal person would do.
“How many nights have you been reading?” he asks, noting that the book seems to be opened mid-way.
“Two nights. Sarah took the book on the third day. It was in her room.”
John snorts. “Mom’ll shoot you if she knows you were in her room.”
Cameron doesn’t respond.
“So,” he finally asks, “what are you reading?”
To answer, she closes the book and holds it up so that John can see the cover.
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
A slow smile curls onto his lips. If there was any book he could probably quote verbatim, it would be that one. It was his favorite story growing up, giving him a chance to escape from his own life and engross himself in the adventures of another ordinary kid in an unordinary world.
“It is your favorite book,” she states matter-a-factly as she reopens the book to the page she previously marked.
John blinks at her again. “How did you--how did you know?”
“You tell me, in the future,” she says, meeting his gaze again. “There are no copies so you recite it to me in Spanish from memory.”
He feels a lead weight in his stomach at her words as he imagines that future.
A future where the sky burns, machines attack, and people live underground. A future where John Connor, the messiah of mankind, sits with his terminator companion in quieter moments of the war and tells her the tale of Dorothy, the lion, the scarecrow, and the tinman.
And he wonders if those are the only moments of peace he gets in the future. When he’s teaching a reprogrammed Cameron human things, teaching her about him.
And he wonders what that kind of peace, that sort of calm, actually feels like.
He swallows down the lump in his throat as he finds his voice. “Why are you reading it then? If you already know the story?”
She stares at him, and he swears he sees her gaze soften a bit, but if he wants, he knows he can blame it on the setting sun behind the kitchen blinds casting shadows across her face.
“Because it is my favorite too,” she says with that same un-Cameron look, and as soon as he starts to really believe he sees something behind those brown eyes, the rumble of a truck enters through the window. She blinks, closes her book, and stands. “Sarah and Derek are home.”
She walks out of the kitchen, book tucked under her arm, before John can even reply.
Sarah and Derek enter, Derek dropping a duffel bag of guns on the table and Sarah running a hand over John’s shorn hair. “You find out anything useful?” she asks.
John can only shake his head.
******
He finds her in the living room.
The house is quiet, the others in bed at this hour. Only Cameron, the one that never sleeps, the one that is programmed to protect, stays awake. Even Derek, the perpetual night owl, sleeps by this hour.
She stands at the door, peering into the darkness of the backyard. He watches her from the doorway, noting the pistol at the small of her back, the shotgun draped over one shoulder, and the book held in one hand. She keeps watch for a moment longer before, satisfied, she opens her book and begins to read.
John pushes himself from the doorway, stepping into the room and approaching her. She looks up as he stands across from her, and her eyebrows lower and the corners of her mouth turn downward.
“Is there a threat I am unaware of?” she asks, closing the book and reaching for her handgun, and John watches as she goes from curious girl to killer robot in three seconds flat.
He shakes his head and holds up his hands. “No, chill out, no threat,” he says and takes the book from her hand.
John opens to the page she has dog-eared and leans his back against the wall. He clears his throat and begins to read, quiet enough not to alert his mom or Derek that he’s up at this ungodly hour, but loud enough to where it seems his voice is the only sound in the room.
He reads, even though he knows the words by heart.
He looks up mid-page to see Cameron’s gaze focused back into the night, and he knows he’s not hallucinating this time when he sees the small smile on her lips.
John reads, and Cameron listens.
And he finally knows what that sense of calm in the future feels like.
Author: Tonya (_fullofgrace)
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen with small hints of John/Cameron
Disclaimer: The usuals. No own, no sue.
Word count: ~2000
Summary: Cameron knows the story of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
******
Derek finds the metal at its usual position at two in the morning.
It’s not unusual for him and it--cause no matter what has happened, he still can’t bring himself to call it a her--to be up at late hours. He’s a light-sleeper, always has been since the sky started to burn, and his body has gotten used to functioning on four or less hours of sleep.
Usually he passes the metal with only a glance in its direction, a glance that is never returned. But tonight is different, and he finds himself stopping just over the metal’s shoulder, arms folded across his chest in defiance.
He never expects to see the machine, standing alert as ever, shotgun strapped against her back, with an open book in her hands.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks gruffly, nothing but accusation and hatred dripping from his words.
It looks up from the book--The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, he catches on the spine--and something about seeing her reading that book, out of all the ones on the shelves, makes his skin crawl.
“I am reading,” she responds in that monotone way of hers that always makes him itch to reach for his gun.
“Yeah, I see that,” he replies, an edge of annoyance to his voice, “shouldn’t you be watching the perimeter? Being useful?”
“The perimeter has been clear for two hours, thirty-three minutes, and twelve seconds.”
“You can’t keep guard and read at the same time.”
“I check the perimeter every minute for a count of thirty-two seconds while reading,” she explains as if this is the most normal thing in the world. “Probability of any threat levels changing in the remaining twenty-eight seconds is at 5.4% chance.” She looks at him, and if she were human, Derek would swear she had a look of smugness to her. “The perimeter is clear.”
With that, she dog-ears her book page and moves towards the kitchen, book tucked under her arm and shotgun swung to the front of her body.
Derek watches, a deep frown on his face, as she positions herself at the kitchen window. She stands perfectly still, eyes focused out the window, and he catches himself counting the seconds quietly, lips moving in a whisper of words.
He gets to thirty-two-one-thousand, and his lips still as she opens her book and reads again.
He doesn’t like the metal like this, doesn’t like her doing things of her own accordance. Nothing about her developing some sense of self could ever be a good thing.
He shoots one last glare in her direction before going back towards his room.
They should have burned the metal when they had the chance.
******
Derek says they’re going to need more firepower for the job, and Sarah hates to admit that, for once, she agrees. She leaves him cleaning guns in the kitchen as she goes to the nursery, to Cameron’s supposed room.
The room is untouched, much like most the rooms of the house, but more so here considering Cameron rarely uses it, if she uses it at all. The crib is still in the center of the room, and a light green and yellow border runs around the edge of the walls.
Sarah goes to the toychest where she knows Cameron stores part of their artillery, and she stops in her tracks, a lump caught in her throat, as she sees an open book sitting atop the closed lid.
She recognizes the words immediately. She read the same words to John almost every night, most times in Spanish and other times in English.
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
In Cameron’s room.
The book is in her shaky hands when Cameron steps into the room. “Did you find the rounds you required?” she asks.
Sarah doesn’t turn to look at her for a moment, just clutches the book in her hands, closing her eyes and steadying her breath. When she finally turns on the machine, Cameron has her head cocked to the side in that quizzical manner that has become almost human now.
Sarah holds up the book, her voice low and on edge. “What is this?” she asks.
“The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” Cameron replies literally, “Written by L. Frank Baum in 1900. It is the story of--”
“I know what it’s the story of,” she snaps with an agitated sigh. “What is it doing in here?”
“I am reading.”
Sarah isn’t sure how to handle that statement.
Reading is not something Cameron should be doing, not unless directly ordered to do so. Reading for enjoyment is… it’s natural. It’s human. And thinking of Cameron, sitting on the floor of an unused nursery reading The Wizard of Oz, almost makes her want to cry.
Cry at the absurdity of it all.
Cry at the thought that this is how it happens, this is how Skynet finally wins.
By becoming them.
“You don’t read,” she says through clenched teeth.
Cameron tilts her head in the opposite direction.
“You don’t read,” she says again, louder, as she shoulders past Cameron, book clutched in her hands and thoughts of artillery long gone.
They cannot appreciate beauty - they cannot create art. If they ever learn these things, they won't have to destroy us. They'll be us.
******
John sits at the kitchen table, laptop open as he tries to decipher parts of the message left in blood in the garage. He doesn’t look up when Cameron sits down across from him.
His mom and Derek are following up on another lead and have left them to hold down the fort, which for him meant researching and for Cameron meant hovering.
They sit in silence, and he still doesn’t look up as he asks her to fetch him a coke from the fridge. When he doesn’t hear her make a sound to move, he finally looks up at her, over the edge of his screen.
He raises a curious eyebrow at the book she has open in front of her and appears to be currently reading.
“What are you doing?” he finally asks, his curiosity getting the best of him.
She finally looks up at him. “I am reading.”
When he doesn’t respond, she lowers her gaze and turns the page.
John blinks at her, trying to get his mind to wrap around this new hobby of hers. “Are you--” he hesitates with a frown. “Is your chip malfunctioning again?” he asks, the memory of Allison playing foosball still fresh in his mind.
“No,” she states simply, gaze still focused in her book.
He slowly closes up his laptop. “Can I ask why you’re reading now?”
“Because it is the most optimal time of day to do so,” she says, taking his question more literally than he had intended. “I am only able to read at 24.2% of my normal capacity during my patrols at night.”
This news makes him uneasy, not because he fears she’ll miss something if she’s occupied but because she is occupied. She’s doing something without a direct objective or mission, something for pleasure and knowledge.
Something that any normal person would do.
“How many nights have you been reading?” he asks, noting that the book seems to be opened mid-way.
“Two nights. Sarah took the book on the third day. It was in her room.”
John snorts. “Mom’ll shoot you if she knows you were in her room.”
Cameron doesn’t respond.
“So,” he finally asks, “what are you reading?”
To answer, she closes the book and holds it up so that John can see the cover.
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
A slow smile curls onto his lips. If there was any book he could probably quote verbatim, it would be that one. It was his favorite story growing up, giving him a chance to escape from his own life and engross himself in the adventures of another ordinary kid in an unordinary world.
“It is your favorite book,” she states matter-a-factly as she reopens the book to the page she previously marked.
John blinks at her again. “How did you--how did you know?”
“You tell me, in the future,” she says, meeting his gaze again. “There are no copies so you recite it to me in Spanish from memory.”
He feels a lead weight in his stomach at her words as he imagines that future.
A future where the sky burns, machines attack, and people live underground. A future where John Connor, the messiah of mankind, sits with his terminator companion in quieter moments of the war and tells her the tale of Dorothy, the lion, the scarecrow, and the tinman.
And he wonders if those are the only moments of peace he gets in the future. When he’s teaching a reprogrammed Cameron human things, teaching her about him.
And he wonders what that kind of peace, that sort of calm, actually feels like.
He swallows down the lump in his throat as he finds his voice. “Why are you reading it then? If you already know the story?”
She stares at him, and he swears he sees her gaze soften a bit, but if he wants, he knows he can blame it on the setting sun behind the kitchen blinds casting shadows across her face.
“Because it is my favorite too,” she says with that same un-Cameron look, and as soon as he starts to really believe he sees something behind those brown eyes, the rumble of a truck enters through the window. She blinks, closes her book, and stands. “Sarah and Derek are home.”
She walks out of the kitchen, book tucked under her arm, before John can even reply.
Sarah and Derek enter, Derek dropping a duffel bag of guns on the table and Sarah running a hand over John’s shorn hair. “You find out anything useful?” she asks.
John can only shake his head.
******
He finds her in the living room.
The house is quiet, the others in bed at this hour. Only Cameron, the one that never sleeps, the one that is programmed to protect, stays awake. Even Derek, the perpetual night owl, sleeps by this hour.
She stands at the door, peering into the darkness of the backyard. He watches her from the doorway, noting the pistol at the small of her back, the shotgun draped over one shoulder, and the book held in one hand. She keeps watch for a moment longer before, satisfied, she opens her book and begins to read.
John pushes himself from the doorway, stepping into the room and approaching her. She looks up as he stands across from her, and her eyebrows lower and the corners of her mouth turn downward.
“Is there a threat I am unaware of?” she asks, closing the book and reaching for her handgun, and John watches as she goes from curious girl to killer robot in three seconds flat.
He shakes his head and holds up his hands. “No, chill out, no threat,” he says and takes the book from her hand.
John opens to the page she has dog-eared and leans his back against the wall. He clears his throat and begins to read, quiet enough not to alert his mom or Derek that he’s up at this ungodly hour, but loud enough to where it seems his voice is the only sound in the room.
He reads, even though he knows the words by heart.
He looks up mid-page to see Cameron’s gaze focused back into the night, and he knows he’s not hallucinating this time when he sees the small smile on her lips.
John reads, and Cameron listens.
And he finally knows what that sense of calm in the future feels like.