The concept of safety, pt. 2
So that's fun. Especially when they come and get her. That, fortunately, is over quickly. Maybe they'll get a few days of no-Riley before more of that crazy. Right.
"Are you okay?" Now that they are two half-drowned people in wet clothes in the living room as opposed to three, two of whom are screaming at each other.
Coughing. Hard. "I'm okay. I can't swim."
John nods and rubs her shoulder. Gets up, puts on hot water for tea, and brings Allison a bath towel. "I'm sorry." If this is what happens after sex, John is not trying it ever again. Especially with Riley Dawson.
Which won't help the screaming on that end either.
Allison will be excessively glad that Riley will have a bruise on her arm where she grabbed her. Well. She would be if she could be. "I sank."
"I know, I'm sorry." John's throat hurts. "Sit up, please."
She does, in fact, sit up. Which helps a little with the coughing.
It helps John get her drier, anyway. Whatever he can get to. "You should probably change." He is...so overwhelmed. By all of that. Last night and today.
"I will." Later, apparently.
"Okay." Still, with the slight fussing over and trying to get her hair dry. "I'm making tea do you want tea?" He's starting to hit that point where everything's on automatic and he just...shuts down, emotionally.
"Yes. Tea would be good." She really, really dislikes that point.
Unless she calls him on it, he's not going to catch himself at it. They both have their coping mechanisms. "Caffeinated or no?"
That they do. "Your choice."
"I'm not getting any sleep anyway." Caffeinated. Black tea. Lots of sugar, for Allison. The things he does without really focusing on them.
Somewhere in her head, she appreciates it. While he does this, she will go get changed. She's slower than usual. All that water, maybe.
All the water, all the screaming, all the unspoken but felt accusations. All the confusion. Because Riley is not like that normally. At all. When she comes back, John will hand her tea and excuse himself to change too.
No need for either of them to get sick on top of everything else. Then again it might be too late for that.
Riley might've been, at one point, nice to her for five seconds. She'll never remember that.
Allison will drink her tea and wait for John. Pick at cold spaghetti.
It might be too late at that. But would Sarah notice? Or care?
John and Allison are sick at the drop of a hat. So Sarah won't notice or care. She knows their immune systems are weak, she doesn't think it's that important.
It takes him a while to change too. When he comes back he's...completely blank. Withdrawn. Drinking tea and putting whatever leftovers there are in the fridge before sitting across from Allison.
And won't that be fun, if it makes them both sick and she doesn't even notice.
"I'm sorry I fell in the pool."
Well, it means they might get better without interference. Or something. "Getting pushed is not the same as falling."
In theory. "She pushed me and I fell. I pulled her in."
"Sounds like her fault to me."
"All right." She does not really want to argue it.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with that. I should have known better than to leave."
"I ignored her. You needed to clear your head."
John shrugs. "I can't ignore her. Sorry there was all that yelling. I hate yelling. And it keeps happening anyway."
"It's not your fault."
"Yeah, it is."
"Not everything is your fault." Familiar sounding.
"This is." Very.
"Explain why."
"She was fine yesterday. She spent the night and now she is very much not fine."
She gives him a seriously interesting look. "I don't think sleeping with John Connor gives you craziness."
Allison gets the most blankest look in return. "I wouldn't bet money on that."
"I would. I would bet money on that."
John just looks away.
"I'm sorry." Tea finished.
"Do you want more?" Why is she sorry?
"Do you want me to have more?" She has no idea.
"Please don't...have me make decisions for you, right now." Well. There's some emotional response.
Oh good. Emotions! "All right. I will have more."
So John will get up and get her more tea. And refill his own cup. And sit down with them and put his head on the table.
And after some hesitation, she'll reach over and touch the back of his neck.
John shudders, a little, but doesn't pull away. Which...sets his head buzzing again. "I don't know what to do."
The shuddering makes her pull away, though. "You shouldn't see her anymore."
When she pulls away, he looks up. Because everything's fucked up and broken in his head. Again. "I don't want to."
Well, he shuddered. She's pretty sure that's bad. "So, don't."
Mixed. Not bad. "Do you really think it will be that simple?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know. Maybe we'll move soon."
John is going to be bizarre and selfish and take her hand back and put it where it was. "Maybe."
Well, she will leave it there, then. Move her fingers a bit, eventually. "Maybe. Eventually."
He shudders again but holds her wrist so she won't pull away. Closes his eyes and bites his lip. "Something's wrong. I can't save her. I can't keep saving people, it never works."
"You saved Martin Bedell." Didn't he? Or maybe that was a dream.
"It's not the same." John sure as hell wasn't attracted to Bedell. "Guns, yeah. I save people with guns. But not this."
"I don't understand the difference."
"If something is happening in her head...in mine, or yours, I can't save anyone from that. I can't pull it out and shoot it. Or run away. What's in your head stays there. Indelible marks on the brain."
"It's not your job to save her from that."
"My job? No. No, I'm waiting for my job to start when the world ends. But as her friend I owe her that much."
"You said you didn't want to see her again." Doesn't sound like friends to her.
"I don't. I don't want more crazy. Brand spanking new crazy at that." John shakes his head a little. "But if this is my fault..."
"It's not. It's not your fault." More finger movement.
He laughs, a little bit. "I'm so fucked up."
"Maybe. I don't know."
"I didn't want to sleep with her. It didn't make anything better, didn't...change anything. I should've known better." All of this is so much fun to admit. Especially to Allison. "I just wanted someone to hang out with."
"You were lonely, I understand."
"Everyone's lonely. Doesn't make it right."
"No. It doesn't make it right."
"Normally, it doesn't matter. Being lonely."
"Why doesn't it matter?"
"Because I have other things to worry about than whether or not I'm lonely. You told me it doesn't matter later, anyway."
"You have lots of friends. Future John."
"Hopefully you won't get too mad when I say that I don't believe you."
"Why don't you believe me?"
"Who has time to make friends during a war?" Fragmented smile.
"You do. You have lots of friends."
"Like who?" He thinks she's lying. For good reason, but lying still. Who wants to hear that their friendless and lonely years in the future?
"Martin Bedell. Kyle Reese. You have lots of friends."
"It's okay if I don't."
"I wouldn't say it if you didn't."
John smiles again and it keeps not reaching his eyes. "Sometimes, you lie to me. To protect me, yeah? To make me feel better. So. I don't think one solider and my father count as friends. I'm sorry."
"I'm your friend."
"That? I believe that. One good friend is enough, yeah? Not like I'd know what to do with more of them."
He's her friend in the future, but he sent her back to where he doesn't like her 80% of the time. She doesn't pretend to understand that. "One friend is enough."
Neither does John in the state he's in. Why didn't he just keep her there, if she was that important? He can't imagine exposing anyone to Sarah on purpose, much less himself. "I think I was nicer once, and a better person, and now? I don't know. I really don't."
When she thinks about it on bad days, she imagines she must not have been that important. "You aren't a bad person."
"I'm not a good one, either."
"I don't know." She pulls her hand back, or at least tries to.
He lets her, eventually. Threading his fingers through hers for a moment. "Good people don't lie to themselves as much as I manage to. Good people don't yell at their only friends. Good people don't drive other good people insane."
"You didn't drive her insane." She frowns at that. "Why do you lie to yourself? About what?"
"About you. Us. What I want. What I'm capable of." Why? Damned good question.
"Why?" Not asking what about her, or them. Not at all.
"I don't know. It's easier, I guess."
"Easier? I don't understand."
"To pretend that this..." John waves his hand at the house, at them. "Is what I want. As opposed to fighting for what I need."
"What do you need?"
"Normality. Things you don't want to talk about, I'm sure."
"I don't want anything. Do you need to talk about it?"
"What would it change? What could it change?" John shakes his head. "I shouldn't have sent you back here, to this. It wasn't fair."
She shrugs. "But you did."
"Next time, I won't."
"You will. You did."
"I can change things. Small changes. It would be better. You don't need to be here with all this. It would be fair."
"That's not a small thing. You sent me back. You'll send me back. I must not be important."
John covers his face with his hands. "Maybe this future will be different. You're important now."
She shrugs. "I don't know."
"If I have the choice I don't want to send you back to this. To me, like this, to Sarah, to any of it."
"But you did. Send me back to it."
"And if I have the choice...I won't." Sitting up, finally. "Someone deserves to be happy."
She tilts her head. "But you did. Have a choice."
"I don't know what I was thinking and I can't ask myself why I would do that to someone. Again." He shakes his head. "I won't."
"I'm not a someone." She shrugs. "Maybe. We'll see."
He looks at the tabletop. "To me, you are. That you aren't, that's another lie I tell myself. So."
"Maybe. Machines aren't people."
"And yet you have..." John sighs. "A personality, affectations. You change. You evolve. What defines a person? What is so different?"
"That isn't real. It's not real. A person isn't metal. They bleed and break. I'm not a person."
"Maybe my definition of real is just different from everyone else then."
"Maybe. I don't know. It's not right."
"In this? I can afford to be wrong."
"Can you? I don't understand."
"You're not going to agree, I'm pretty sure." Small shrug. "I can afford to be wrong because thinking like everyone else is just fucking me up more in the long run, I can tell. I spent, what...two years? Thinking of you as a person and nothing else. I think that's a better idea, really. If only I could hold on to it?"
John probably hasn't eaten much between yesterday and today.
Mostly a little spaghetti and tea, hm?
She shrugs. "I don't know. You should eat. Sleep." She'll reheat him some spaghetti.
"I'm okay." Another incomplete smile. "Not really hungry. Or tired. I just want to think."
"No, you aren't."
"How am I not okay?"
"You haven't eaten much. You're upset."
"Eating won't make me less upset. Please? I'm not hungry. I just want to think."
She's going to putter about the kitchen anyway. "What about?"
"What to do. What's happening. What's happened." He'll watch her.
"What would you do?" Dishes. She'll do dishes.
"Suggest her parents take her to a doctor, I think." Which is likely what will trigger the suicide attempt from Riley. "Everything else, well." He shrugs.
"You can do that, sure. Maybe it will help." Maybe not.
"Maybe. If I'm lucky." Which more or less tells him it won't, but what else can he do?
Not a whole lot. "Maybe." Washing plates and tea cups.
"...The next time you see him, you should ask him to take you back with him, maybe."
She freezes in the middle of cleaning a fork. "You don't want me here anymore?"
"That would be the logical conclusion, wouldn't it? But I am not the most logical of people, especially when it comes to you." In other words Allison, no. Not quite.
Will she get that? Probably not right away. "If you don't want me here anymore, I'll tell him. I don't think he'll take me back."
"That isn't what I'm saying."
"What are you saying?"
"That it isn't fair, or safe, and despite what you think I really need it to be both of those things. For you if no one else."
"It doesn't matter if I'm safe or not."
"Despite what you think, I said."
"It's not what I think, it's what I know."
"I know and feel something different."
"Fine." More forks.
"If the choice were yours what would you do?"
"The choice isn't mine."
"This is a hypothetical situation I am using in order to figure out what is the best course of action. Pleas stop being difficult and just answer the question."
Gripping a fork tighter under the water helps with frustration, right? Right? "It isn't my choice. I would dismantle me, if I didn't want me around. Disassemble."
"I want you happy or as close as you can be to it. Happy and safe. It's not the same as not wanting you around." Watching the muscles in her arm tighten is...interesting.
"It is the same. It's exactly the same." Narrowing her eyes a bit, and gripping it tighter. Maybe she's trying to bend it.
That would be impressive. "You were happier before. Safer before. How is wanting you to have that again the same as not wanting you around? Maybe what I need, Allison, is something to look forward to. You."
And tighter. "No one's ever safe. Ever. If you want me to go back, leave me behind."
"What about happy?" How far is John going to push them both in this conversation?
Far, apparently. "No. Not happy."
"...Never?" His voice breaks a little, at that.
"No. Never." That's a little dark.
So John gets up and walks over to Allison. Puts his arms around her. "Wanting you to be happy and not wanting you around are not the same thing. But I'm scared something is going to happen to you."
She frowns a bit at the sink water and does really react much to his arms around her. Yet. "Something always happens to me."
"And I hate that. I am, when you get right down to it, very selfish. When it comes to you, especially. I just don't want anything else to happen. I want you to be as safe as you can be." And that? Is not here, now, with him. He's sure of that much.
"He won't take me back. I don't think he likes me very much."
"Why do you think that?"
She shrugs, which is a little difficult with someone holding onto you. Still gripping that fork. "He sent me here. Away from him."
"That sounds like something my mother would say." John loosens his hold, but not by much. "I love you, I just don't know what to do. How to make sure you're safe. Something bad is going to happen."
It is, in fact, something his mother would say. "You don't love me. You don't like me. Sarah doesn't like me. Riley doesn't like me. Everything bad happens. Something bad always happens."
Thanks for that Sarah. "I like you. I love you. I'm just not a good person." So, more holding again. "You are, in fact, the only person I really give a damn about. Isn't that interesting?" Forehead on her shoulder.
"You have it backwards." She frowns. A lot. "Is it interesting?"
"No." Not even really giving her much of an option to argue. "Yeah, it's interesting. I can't ignore you for long. I fight with my mother about you until my head aches and everything is hard to focus on. And everytime you say that I can't like you or love you it's like someone's stabbing me. So I try. Really, really hard to believe you. Until I can't and it starts all over."
She closes her eyes. "He doesn't like me, so you must not either. That must be it."
"Divergent timelines. Different environments. It's not the only option, Allison."
"It is. It is the only option." Slightly frustrated voice. Loud, even.
Well, good thing his mother isn't here. John winces but doesn't let go or move his head. "But I love you anyway."
"You love Riley."
John hmms. "I've never said that and she's never asked. So I don't."
"You do. You will. Because she's real and she needs you. You will. Let go."
"No. To all of that. Why do you want me to let go? I don't want to let go."
She thinks that he will. She's sure that he will. "Let go."
That is not an answer. At all.
"Tell me why." He won't. He doesn't. And that's part of the reason sleeping with Riley left him feeling so shitty.
"She doesn't like the way you respond to me. Let go."
"She's not here."
"I know she isn't home. Why won't you let go?"
"Because I'm selfish. I like this. I want this."
Tensing. A little. Eventually, a lot. "Why?"
"...Are you afraid of me?"
"I'm not afraid of you. If I were afraid of you, I'd make you let go."
"But you really want me to let go."
"I don't know."
"Then why do you keep asking me to?" Well, more like telling but.
"It makes my head hurt. If I don't. If you do."
"I'm sorry." So John does let go. But he doesn't move away.
She frowns, more than a little upset now.
"I don't know what to do." Because everything he's thought or suggested past tea was apparently wrong.
"It doesn't matter. I must be glitching." From the pool.
"It matters," John says quietly. "Tell me what would help."
She shrugs, finally letting go of that fork. "I don't know what would help. She'll have to fix it."
"I don't want her to fix it." John leans forward and kisses Allison on the cheek before going back to his now cold tea and finishing it.
She blinks, and tries not to react to that. Pretty much fails. So. Off to her room.
The entire time John was dealing with Riley he didn't feel overwhelmed the way he does when Allison leaves. So. He'll wash the cup he used for tea and go up to her room too. Hover in the doorway. "Tell me what to do and I'll do my best. I'm sorry."
Of course, she does the absolutely mature thing. Which is to get in bed and completely under her blankets. Blanket shield? No. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"Allison..." John sighs and sits down. Near the bed, not on it. "You're breaking my heart. Tell me how to stop breaking you."
"You didn't break me, the pool broke me. Riley broke me."
"When I say that I love you does that make your head hurt too?" Like his own, he thinks.
Tight voice. "Yes."
"Should I stop?" Yes would be the obvious answer but considering John is doing it to himself as well he is not going with the obvious answer.
"I don't know." Staring at the inside of her blanket, apparently, helps.
As opposed to looking at John, one assumes. "Should I leave you alone?"
As opposed to looking at anyone. "I don't know." Tighter voice.
"Do you know what I'm afraid of? More than anything else?"
"No. I don't know."
"Should I tell you? It might make your head hurt more."
"Tell me. My head already hurts."
"I'm afraid of losing you. Because something bad happens or because you hate me and leave."
"I'm not going to leave." She certainly sounds upset though.
"But you're angry. Or something."
"I'm not angry." Crying, a little, but not angry. "I don't hate you and I'm not going to leave."
"It's hard to tell." Touching her shoulder through the blanket.
Considering what happens here, touching her in her bed? Probably not the best idea. She tenses up a lot, shoulder tight.
That gives John pause as he pulls his hand away. "Can we talk in my room?"
"...okay."
"Can you walk?"
"Yes. I think so." Still, she's waiting until he starts going, unless he plans on carrying her. Which...well.
That just confuses him a bit. "Do you want me to carry you?"
"I'm waiting for you to go."
John raises his eyebrows. "Why?" He's still tempted to carry her but he always is when something is wrong.
"I don't know." Probably a bit embarrassed at crying. At tensing up for no reason she can think of.
"If I carry you will something bad happen?"
"No. I don't think so. What something bad?"
"I don't know, seemed like a good idea to ask." Up we go, Allison, blanket and all.
It probably is a good idea to ask. On a really bad day, she might fight him on it. But. Off to his room.
Off to his room, on to his bed. With clean sheets and everything. "I'm sorry I made you cry."
Thank God for that. "You didn't make me cry."
"But you were crying."
"But you didn't make me cry. You didn't." The pool, she thinks, maybe Or Riley. Either way, she's doing it again and she doesn't like it at all. It's stupid, she thinks.
"It's okay." See? John will lay down and be really close. Not quite touching because he doesn't want to make it worse.
"I'm glitching. Am I glitching?" She thinks so. She's pretty sure.
"It's okay. You'll be fine. I promise, okay?"
"It won't be okay. I'm broken. I'm sorry. I sank."
"Shh. You'll be fine, I promise. You're allowed to be upset. Trust me, okay?" Putting his arms around her and hoping that if she cried herself out it would be fine.
Is it ever fine? "I trust you. Okay. I do."
"Crying is fine. Don't...hold it in, you'll just feel worse."
Well, she won't then, will she. At all.
That's rather...good and distressing all at the same time, isn't it? John holds her and doesn't say anything.
"I don't want to go. All right? Okay? Please?"
"I'm sorry I said that. I don't want you to go." Hugging her a bit.
"Okay. Sure. Yes. Okay." Calming. A bit.
"I'm just scared. I say stupid things when I'm scared." Yeah no kidding. John thinks he should have seen that coming.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"No. Afraid for you."
"I wish you weren't. I don't want you to be. You shouldn't be."
"I know, but...I can't help it, I'm sorry."
"I know. I'm sorry too."
"...Why are you sorry?"
"For pushing you. Earlier. For not leaving you alone."
"It's fine. I was being an ass." John sighs and puts his head against her shoulder. The way he figures, whatever the hell is going on with Riley will hopefully mean that Sarah won't pay a lot of attention to Allison's state.
That? Is probably incredibly likely, considering Riley's own current state. At least for a day or so. "Yes. You were being an ass. It's fine." She closes her eyes. "I'm tired."
"Do you want to sleep in here?" John will stay up. Read. Something. "We have all of tomorrow too."
"She's coming home tomorrow night?" She'll be...confused when he's still awake when she wakes up. "Yes. I would like to sleep in here."
"That's what she said." John is entering the state where he'll do everything he can to stay clearheaded which will last up until the week Riley Dawson is murdered. Because he can't protect Allison from whatever the hell is going on while under Sarah's influence and that more often than anything else, is usually what propels him to this manic state to begin with. "Okay."
"All right. Thank you." It does't take Allison long to fall asleep tonight. Not at all. She might even sleep longer than the usual 3-4 hours. That'll be interesting, won't it?
More sleep is good for her, he thinks. However, four and a half hours after she falls asleep John will check her pulse as carefully as he can. Her forehead, for a temperature. And when his throat starts to itch around hour six, he will think of every single curse in Spanish that he can ever remember hearing.
The fact that she doesn't spring awake when he feels for a pulse or checks for a fever might be a little...unnerving? But she was clearly upset, so more sleep is good. Six hours, seven hours is pushing it a little bit. After eight, there's a minor bit of a fever. This is why you don't mess around near a pool when you have a bad immune system, boys and girls.
This is when having first aid kits near every bed in the house is useful. Minor fever means trying to get her to wake up, a little bit. "I need to take your temperature, Allison." Common sense would state that bad immune systems or not, late January is not the time for impromptu swimming. Especially considering it was the better part of an hour before either of them got out of their wet clothes.
Since when have either of them had common sense about that sort of thing? Allison opens her eyes, looking at him a little blearily. "Okay..." Now, even now, she's more worried aboout him.
Honestly? Riley started it. So John smooths Allison's hair and takes her temperature. Oddly enough? They don't have standard cough medicine in the house. So going out might end up happening, even if it's just walking to the store.
So, that'll be fun. Her temperature is barely hitting 101, which isn't great but could be worse. "John?"
With their luck it'll be 103 within the next three hours. After he takes hers he'll take his own. 100.3 Fine to drive, for the moment. "We need to get cold medicine."
With their luck, they'll both be at 103 in the next three hours. "Oh. Okay." Sitting up time? Now.
"I want us to hurry there and back, okay?" So not a lot of time for changing clothes and all that whatnot. "Dress warmly."
She nods, and does this quickly. So they can hurry there and back. To the car?
To the car. And to the local drug store. Where John will get enough cold medicine for a few people along with fever reducers. Because when they get sick it's for damn near forever it seems like. "How are you feeling?" Do they need to get anything else?
"Tired. Thirsty." Juice, maybe. Or gatorade, for electrolytes.
He nods and takes her arm. They'll get both. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything." Hurrying along, so they can get out of here.
"Mm." So, time to be rung up, get things into the car, and head home. Thank God it's early.
Thank God Sarah's not home. When they get back to the house, she'll go to put the juice and the gatorade away, and then sit down at the kitchen table. Her turn to put her head down on it.
Somewhere in this kitchen there is canned soup, John has seen it. Why the hell is it hidden behind a million other things? He doesn't want to have either of them take cold medicine on an empty stomach. So when he finally tracks that down and puts it in the microwave, he'll boil water for more tea and go over to the table. Rubbing the space between Allison's shoulders.
She sighs, a little bit. "Are you okay?" Always protecting him. Even from germs.
"I will be. You slept a lot." No nightmares, that he could tell.
"But are you now?" No dreams at all, which was interesting. And different. "I did?"
"I'm going to be sick too. So we have to take care of each other, okay?" John smiles a little and keeps rubbing. "Yeah. The whole night through."
"I'll take care of you. Okay." She really does not mind the rubbing much at all. "That's strange."
He chuckles a little because each other turned into Allison taking care of John, unsurprisingly. "You were really worn out. Long day." When was the last time she cried like that?
Probably not since her birthday. Maybe before. "A very long day. Did you sleep?"
"Not as much as I should have." Oh, John. At least it's only half a lie? "Pretty sure we'll both sleep lots in the next week or two." Soup and hot water are done so John will fuss with that for a minute before returning. Lemon tea and soup!
No doubt that they will. And that Sarah will be too busy messing with her new brain-toy to notice. "You should sleep more next time. I'm still tired." But: soup and tea!
Soup and tea and more backrubs because Allison seemed to like it and he's pretty sure she wouldn't have been crying yesterday if not for him. Also the being sick thing is tied to the girl he got involved with, so it's also his fault in a roundabout way. "Yeah. After we eat we can probably go back to sleep." Will Sarah even be home much between now and when they get better? Probably not.
She would disagree with that a lot, but what wouldn't she disagree with him about, lately?
At least there's that. Sarah not being home much. Lucky, in a way. "Okay. That'll be good."
Lucky for them. Not so lucky for Riley. Interesting, how things balance. How they don't. "Okay. Is this okay, what I'm doing?" Questions John possibly should have asked fifteen minutes ago.
Crazy robot karma. "It's okay. Yes. I don't mind." At all. Really.
Yes, that exactly. "Okay." John will actually eat most of this soup. It doesn't taste odd. Yay for Charlie buying canned goods. "I like...things like this." Small displays of affection, kind of.
She'll eat as much of it as she can before putting her spoon down. Not very hungry, apparently. But at least it doesn't taste weird. "It's nice."
"I like helping you. Feeling connected."
"It's nice to have help sometimes. Feeling connected?"'
"Touching, I guess." No, John knows that's what he means he just feels slightly skeevy.
Oh, John. "I like it. It's okay." Slight smile.
Have we talked about John's intimacy issues yet today? No? Do you have a few hours? "Okay." So that means he won't stop until he's done and gets up to clear their plates away. "Take some of the cold medicine?"
Hours? Days? Weeks? "All right. I will." Right now, in fact. "You too?"
John nods and see? He will totally take this fake cherry tasting shit. "Oh fuck, why is it so nasty?" Shudder.
She makes a face. "To discourage illness." Yeah, that's totally why.
Blink, blink. John cracks up. "Oh, God."
Blink and blink right back at him. "Are you okay?"
He nods, too busy laughing. "Sorry that's just...kind of an amazing conclusion." Oh, ow, coughing isn't amazing however.
She smirks, slightly, and shrugs. "Well." Worried look. "We should go to bed." How often do either of them say that?
Never. "Okay. You gonna sleep in my room again?"
So that's interesting. "If you'd like."
"I would, yeah."
It'll certainly make it easier to take care of him. And vice versa. "All right."
Not like either of them on cold medicine are very effiicient. Hilarious, yes. "Thank you." So up! And sleeping, yay.
That gets interrupted by a phone call from Sarah on the house line, a few hours later, but John is medicated and Sarah is distracted so all she knows is that it's cold but they're fine, really, if they do get sick the grocery store can deliver honestly Mom he turns 21 in seven weeks and doesn't need another babysitter and all John knows is that she's busy and won't be home often if at all in the next week or so.
And honestly, Allison is a little relieved to know that. She's sure she can work through this glitch, whatever it is, on her own. Without Sarah. With a lot of sleep. That's different. Maybe if she can do that, the constant reprogramming will stop.
Right.
So, more sleep. Weirdly dreamless sleep. She doesn't mind that at all. No dreams means no nightmares. That's not a bad thing.
John doesn't think Allison is glitching. She's sick but so is he; when one of them gets a cold the other usually ends up with it too. So there is that. Also he doesn't want to deal with Sarah thinking she is, or Allison insisting she is while Sarah looks on, on top of cold medicine. The stuff makes him feel like a freaking cartoon as it is.
So it's lucky for them that Sarah's barely home this week. (Unlucky for others, but) They can sleep, and rest. Allison does sleep and rest. Fever going up and going down. A weird, boneless sleep where you barely move during it and feel weird when you wake up.
Not that she's a stranger to feeling weird.
Neither is John but, really? It'd be nice, he decides around the second day, if his body could make up it's mind about the blanket versus no blankets thing. Considering either way he ends up curled in Allison it'd be nice if he could stop waking up in order to hunt down covers and then throw them off later. "I hate this shit."
"Me too." Slightly hoarse, curling a little closer. At least Riley's not here to see this. "Ice pack might help."
"Nngh." Sitting up, slowly. Petting Allison's hair because..well John doesn't really have any fucking clue why but he should probably get ice packs.
Navigating stairs while running a fever is fun. It also involves sitting on stairs as you go.
She certainly doesn't mind hair petting.
Allison sits up, of course, so she can listen for him walking down the stairs and come help him if he falls. She really hopes he doesn't fall.
He doesn't fall. He does manage to fill a grocery bag with bottles of water and ice packs. There are towels upstairs anyway. "Mission accomplished. Lay down!" Mock-chastising because, really. John couldn't convince anything or anyone to do anything at all in the state he's in.
She does, however, lay right back down. Oh, Allison. "Are you okay? Didn't fall?" Just in case she missed it, or something.
"No. I didn't fall." Kind of glad for that, too. So, more hair petting and an icepack. "Do you want water? I brought water."
She closed her eyes for a moment, and nodded. "Okay. Water's good. Thank you."
John smiles because he feels like he's doing something right. For once. Protecting her and letting her protect him even though they're both way too sick. Sicker than people should be but they always are. Besides, being close is nice. And cold medicine combined with everything else somehow makes it easier to feel things other than angry.
Water is in those sports-styled bottles that has a click lid, so neither of them have to worry about spilling it every if they lose the top. Nifty. He opens one and puts it in the crook of her arm while wrapping the icepack in a towel and putting it against the back of Allison's neck.
Sighing, just a little bit, because an icepack right now is nice. Once he has that finished and is settled back in bed, she'll get him an icepack and pull the blankets back over them. "Better? Is that better?"
John smiles. "It's probably really weird of me. I hate being sick but I like this, quiet, no fights just us. That's weird, isn't it?"
She shakes her head. "No. It's not weird." She doesn't think so anyway.
He pets her hair again. "I'd rather be like this than when I can't focus. It's nice not to be mad anymore."
Slight smile. "It'd be better if we weren't sick."
"Well yeah. But I'll take what I can get." Which is outright sad when you think about it.
More than a little bit, definitely. "All right." Adjusting his icepack.
"I'm glad you're here." Whether he means in his room or just here, in general, is hard even for John to figure out. But in his worst nightmares he's alone.
"I'm glad that I'm here too." In his room, she thinks. Because, if she were honest with herself, if she could be, she's not glad that either of them are here.
Well, no. And that is where so much of John's anger and frustration stems from. The vague knowledge that none of this is what he'd planned on happening to either of them, that he was supposed to be away from this and his mother by this point.
When he's sick and it's not just him it's them; when it's a cold and not the great unfocusing, he can't really remember that. In a way, being ill for a reason is the only break he gets. That either of them get.
Either way John just smiles again and pulls Allison closer, moving the icepack over her shoulders.
Sometimes, when she's very very out of it or very very tired, she remembers where they were supposed to be at this point. Sometimes, she can't remember why they're not there, or where they are at all. Breaks like this are good. Nice. Despite the fever. The illness.
"Sometimes," John says and it could be minutes or hours later, he can't tell really. "I want to never go outside." He's half awake and his nose is against Allison's shoulder.
And that's fine, because she's somehow got her fingers threaded in his hair. "We shouldn't. If the other machines are coming, we should get a bomb shelter." Oh, Allison. What?
John lets out a little chuckle because he's brought this up to his mother before and her response makes no sense, even now. "We always know where the movie theaters are. For a safehouse this isn't very safe."
It does seem like, to her, if you were trying to keep the leader of the resistance safe and alive until the end of the world you'd at least keep him away from the machnes until then. "No, it's not very safe. And the food tastes funny."
"It's better when you cook. When Charlie buys food." Which is good and bad. Good because they get un-drugged food for a little while. Bad because that means withdrawl for John and then reacclimating when Sarah gets around to organizing the fridge. "Can we make a safe room?"
And isn't that fun. Charlie must think that's interesting. "Yes. We can make a safe room." She wonders what Sarah will think of that.
Sarah has safes built into the downstairs floor. "A real one and a fake one." What?
And later, they'll have them built into their bed. "A real one and a fake one?" Well, she's certainly perplexed by that.
"Build a safe room into the ground. I want my room to be safe. For you?"
"...those are two completely different things." Oh, Allison. "A safe room in the ground is a good idea."
He tilts his head to look at her. "Your room isn't safe for you."
"I don't like my room." Head on his shoulder now.
"I wish you could stay in my room." Petting her hair.
"She'd get upset." Sarah? Or Riley?
"I know." Both? Most likely. "But...for a while? Like...a safe place to visit. People do that, right?"
"For a while. Yes. People do that." Small smile.
"Okay. So a saferoom in the ground. In the garden?" That Sarha doesn't plant a damn thing in anyway. "And my room is safe." And this is a very...twelve year olds hiding from the boogeyman sort of conversation, isn't it?
It really, really is. "Your room is safe. And a room in the ground in the garden." She smiles at him. "That will be good."
John grins. "Yay." Oh, John.
She snorts, just for a second. "Yay."
Still, for some reason, the idea that he's helping Allison be safe is making him very happy right now. And from this point onward he'll never lock his door to her, even when she won't leave him alone and that's what he thinks he wants.For now? Smiles and small touches. Water and icepacks and cold medicine and sleeping.
"Are you okay?" Now that they are two half-drowned people in wet clothes in the living room as opposed to three, two of whom are screaming at each other.
Coughing. Hard. "I'm okay. I can't swim."
John nods and rubs her shoulder. Gets up, puts on hot water for tea, and brings Allison a bath towel. "I'm sorry." If this is what happens after sex, John is not trying it ever again. Especially with Riley Dawson.
Which won't help the screaming on that end either.
Allison will be excessively glad that Riley will have a bruise on her arm where she grabbed her. Well. She would be if she could be. "I sank."
"I know, I'm sorry." John's throat hurts. "Sit up, please."
She does, in fact, sit up. Which helps a little with the coughing.
It helps John get her drier, anyway. Whatever he can get to. "You should probably change." He is...so overwhelmed. By all of that. Last night and today.
"I will." Later, apparently.
"Okay." Still, with the slight fussing over and trying to get her hair dry. "I'm making tea do you want tea?" He's starting to hit that point where everything's on automatic and he just...shuts down, emotionally.
"Yes. Tea would be good." She really, really dislikes that point.
Unless she calls him on it, he's not going to catch himself at it. They both have their coping mechanisms. "Caffeinated or no?"
That they do. "Your choice."
"I'm not getting any sleep anyway." Caffeinated. Black tea. Lots of sugar, for Allison. The things he does without really focusing on them.
Somewhere in her head, she appreciates it. While he does this, she will go get changed. She's slower than usual. All that water, maybe.
All the water, all the screaming, all the unspoken but felt accusations. All the confusion. Because Riley is not like that normally. At all. When she comes back, John will hand her tea and excuse himself to change too.
No need for either of them to get sick on top of everything else. Then again it might be too late for that.
Riley might've been, at one point, nice to her for five seconds. She'll never remember that.
Allison will drink her tea and wait for John. Pick at cold spaghetti.
It might be too late at that. But would Sarah notice? Or care?
John and Allison are sick at the drop of a hat. So Sarah won't notice or care. She knows their immune systems are weak, she doesn't think it's that important.
It takes him a while to change too. When he comes back he's...completely blank. Withdrawn. Drinking tea and putting whatever leftovers there are in the fridge before sitting across from Allison.
And won't that be fun, if it makes them both sick and she doesn't even notice.
"I'm sorry I fell in the pool."
Well, it means they might get better without interference. Or something. "Getting pushed is not the same as falling."
In theory. "She pushed me and I fell. I pulled her in."
"Sounds like her fault to me."
"All right." She does not really want to argue it.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with that. I should have known better than to leave."
"I ignored her. You needed to clear your head."
John shrugs. "I can't ignore her. Sorry there was all that yelling. I hate yelling. And it keeps happening anyway."
"It's not your fault."
"Yeah, it is."
"Not everything is your fault." Familiar sounding.
"This is." Very.
"Explain why."
"She was fine yesterday. She spent the night and now she is very much not fine."
She gives him a seriously interesting look. "I don't think sleeping with John Connor gives you craziness."
Allison gets the most blankest look in return. "I wouldn't bet money on that."
"I would. I would bet money on that."
John just looks away.
"I'm sorry." Tea finished.
"Do you want more?" Why is she sorry?
"Do you want me to have more?" She has no idea.
"Please don't...have me make decisions for you, right now." Well. There's some emotional response.
Oh good. Emotions! "All right. I will have more."
So John will get up and get her more tea. And refill his own cup. And sit down with them and put his head on the table.
And after some hesitation, she'll reach over and touch the back of his neck.
John shudders, a little, but doesn't pull away. Which...sets his head buzzing again. "I don't know what to do."
The shuddering makes her pull away, though. "You shouldn't see her anymore."
When she pulls away, he looks up. Because everything's fucked up and broken in his head. Again. "I don't want to."
Well, he shuddered. She's pretty sure that's bad. "So, don't."
Mixed. Not bad. "Do you really think it will be that simple?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know. Maybe we'll move soon."
John is going to be bizarre and selfish and take her hand back and put it where it was. "Maybe."
Well, she will leave it there, then. Move her fingers a bit, eventually. "Maybe. Eventually."
He shudders again but holds her wrist so she won't pull away. Closes his eyes and bites his lip. "Something's wrong. I can't save her. I can't keep saving people, it never works."
"You saved Martin Bedell." Didn't he? Or maybe that was a dream.
"It's not the same." John sure as hell wasn't attracted to Bedell. "Guns, yeah. I save people with guns. But not this."
"I don't understand the difference."
"If something is happening in her head...in mine, or yours, I can't save anyone from that. I can't pull it out and shoot it. Or run away. What's in your head stays there. Indelible marks on the brain."
"It's not your job to save her from that."
"My job? No. No, I'm waiting for my job to start when the world ends. But as her friend I owe her that much."
"You said you didn't want to see her again." Doesn't sound like friends to her.
"I don't. I don't want more crazy. Brand spanking new crazy at that." John shakes his head a little. "But if this is my fault..."
"It's not. It's not your fault." More finger movement.
He laughs, a little bit. "I'm so fucked up."
"Maybe. I don't know."
"I didn't want to sleep with her. It didn't make anything better, didn't...change anything. I should've known better." All of this is so much fun to admit. Especially to Allison. "I just wanted someone to hang out with."
"You were lonely, I understand."
"Everyone's lonely. Doesn't make it right."
"No. It doesn't make it right."
"Normally, it doesn't matter. Being lonely."
"Why doesn't it matter?"
"Because I have other things to worry about than whether or not I'm lonely. You told me it doesn't matter later, anyway."
"You have lots of friends. Future John."
"Hopefully you won't get too mad when I say that I don't believe you."
"Why don't you believe me?"
"Who has time to make friends during a war?" Fragmented smile.
"You do. You have lots of friends."
"Like who?" He thinks she's lying. For good reason, but lying still. Who wants to hear that their friendless and lonely years in the future?
"Martin Bedell. Kyle Reese. You have lots of friends."
"It's okay if I don't."
"I wouldn't say it if you didn't."
John smiles again and it keeps not reaching his eyes. "Sometimes, you lie to me. To protect me, yeah? To make me feel better. So. I don't think one solider and my father count as friends. I'm sorry."
"I'm your friend."
"That? I believe that. One good friend is enough, yeah? Not like I'd know what to do with more of them."
He's her friend in the future, but he sent her back to where he doesn't like her 80% of the time. She doesn't pretend to understand that. "One friend is enough."
Neither does John in the state he's in. Why didn't he just keep her there, if she was that important? He can't imagine exposing anyone to Sarah on purpose, much less himself. "I think I was nicer once, and a better person, and now? I don't know. I really don't."
When she thinks about it on bad days, she imagines she must not have been that important. "You aren't a bad person."
"I'm not a good one, either."
"I don't know." She pulls her hand back, or at least tries to.
He lets her, eventually. Threading his fingers through hers for a moment. "Good people don't lie to themselves as much as I manage to. Good people don't yell at their only friends. Good people don't drive other good people insane."
"You didn't drive her insane." She frowns at that. "Why do you lie to yourself? About what?"
"About you. Us. What I want. What I'm capable of." Why? Damned good question.
"Why?" Not asking what about her, or them. Not at all.
"I don't know. It's easier, I guess."
"Easier? I don't understand."
"To pretend that this..." John waves his hand at the house, at them. "Is what I want. As opposed to fighting for what I need."
"What do you need?"
"Normality. Things you don't want to talk about, I'm sure."
"I don't want anything. Do you need to talk about it?"
"What would it change? What could it change?" John shakes his head. "I shouldn't have sent you back here, to this. It wasn't fair."
She shrugs. "But you did."
"Next time, I won't."
"You will. You did."
"I can change things. Small changes. It would be better. You don't need to be here with all this. It would be fair."
"That's not a small thing. You sent me back. You'll send me back. I must not be important."
John covers his face with his hands. "Maybe this future will be different. You're important now."
She shrugs. "I don't know."
"If I have the choice I don't want to send you back to this. To me, like this, to Sarah, to any of it."
"But you did. Send me back to it."
"And if I have the choice...I won't." Sitting up, finally. "Someone deserves to be happy."
She tilts her head. "But you did. Have a choice."
"I don't know what I was thinking and I can't ask myself why I would do that to someone. Again." He shakes his head. "I won't."
"I'm not a someone." She shrugs. "Maybe. We'll see."
He looks at the tabletop. "To me, you are. That you aren't, that's another lie I tell myself. So."
"Maybe. Machines aren't people."
"And yet you have..." John sighs. "A personality, affectations. You change. You evolve. What defines a person? What is so different?"
"That isn't real. It's not real. A person isn't metal. They bleed and break. I'm not a person."
"Maybe my definition of real is just different from everyone else then."
"Maybe. I don't know. It's not right."
"In this? I can afford to be wrong."
"Can you? I don't understand."
"You're not going to agree, I'm pretty sure." Small shrug. "I can afford to be wrong because thinking like everyone else is just fucking me up more in the long run, I can tell. I spent, what...two years? Thinking of you as a person and nothing else. I think that's a better idea, really. If only I could hold on to it?"
John probably hasn't eaten much between yesterday and today.
Mostly a little spaghetti and tea, hm?
She shrugs. "I don't know. You should eat. Sleep." She'll reheat him some spaghetti.
"I'm okay." Another incomplete smile. "Not really hungry. Or tired. I just want to think."
"No, you aren't."
"How am I not okay?"
"You haven't eaten much. You're upset."
"Eating won't make me less upset. Please? I'm not hungry. I just want to think."
She's going to putter about the kitchen anyway. "What about?"
"What to do. What's happening. What's happened." He'll watch her.
"What would you do?" Dishes. She'll do dishes.
"Suggest her parents take her to a doctor, I think." Which is likely what will trigger the suicide attempt from Riley. "Everything else, well." He shrugs.
"You can do that, sure. Maybe it will help." Maybe not.
"Maybe. If I'm lucky." Which more or less tells him it won't, but what else can he do?
Not a whole lot. "Maybe." Washing plates and tea cups.
"...The next time you see him, you should ask him to take you back with him, maybe."
She freezes in the middle of cleaning a fork. "You don't want me here anymore?"
"That would be the logical conclusion, wouldn't it? But I am not the most logical of people, especially when it comes to you." In other words Allison, no. Not quite.
Will she get that? Probably not right away. "If you don't want me here anymore, I'll tell him. I don't think he'll take me back."
"That isn't what I'm saying."
"What are you saying?"
"That it isn't fair, or safe, and despite what you think I really need it to be both of those things. For you if no one else."
"It doesn't matter if I'm safe or not."
"Despite what you think, I said."
"It's not what I think, it's what I know."
"I know and feel something different."
"Fine." More forks.
"If the choice were yours what would you do?"
"The choice isn't mine."
"This is a hypothetical situation I am using in order to figure out what is the best course of action. Pleas stop being difficult and just answer the question."
Gripping a fork tighter under the water helps with frustration, right? Right? "It isn't my choice. I would dismantle me, if I didn't want me around. Disassemble."
"I want you happy or as close as you can be to it. Happy and safe. It's not the same as not wanting you around." Watching the muscles in her arm tighten is...interesting.
"It is the same. It's exactly the same." Narrowing her eyes a bit, and gripping it tighter. Maybe she's trying to bend it.
That would be impressive. "You were happier before. Safer before. How is wanting you to have that again the same as not wanting you around? Maybe what I need, Allison, is something to look forward to. You."
And tighter. "No one's ever safe. Ever. If you want me to go back, leave me behind."
"What about happy?" How far is John going to push them both in this conversation?
Far, apparently. "No. Not happy."
"...Never?" His voice breaks a little, at that.
"No. Never." That's a little dark.
So John gets up and walks over to Allison. Puts his arms around her. "Wanting you to be happy and not wanting you around are not the same thing. But I'm scared something is going to happen to you."
She frowns a bit at the sink water and does really react much to his arms around her. Yet. "Something always happens to me."
"And I hate that. I am, when you get right down to it, very selfish. When it comes to you, especially. I just don't want anything else to happen. I want you to be as safe as you can be." And that? Is not here, now, with him. He's sure of that much.
"He won't take me back. I don't think he likes me very much."
"Why do you think that?"
She shrugs, which is a little difficult with someone holding onto you. Still gripping that fork. "He sent me here. Away from him."
"That sounds like something my mother would say." John loosens his hold, but not by much. "I love you, I just don't know what to do. How to make sure you're safe. Something bad is going to happen."
It is, in fact, something his mother would say. "You don't love me. You don't like me. Sarah doesn't like me. Riley doesn't like me. Everything bad happens. Something bad always happens."
Thanks for that Sarah. "I like you. I love you. I'm just not a good person." So, more holding again. "You are, in fact, the only person I really give a damn about. Isn't that interesting?" Forehead on her shoulder.
"You have it backwards." She frowns. A lot. "Is it interesting?"
"No." Not even really giving her much of an option to argue. "Yeah, it's interesting. I can't ignore you for long. I fight with my mother about you until my head aches and everything is hard to focus on. And everytime you say that I can't like you or love you it's like someone's stabbing me. So I try. Really, really hard to believe you. Until I can't and it starts all over."
She closes her eyes. "He doesn't like me, so you must not either. That must be it."
"Divergent timelines. Different environments. It's not the only option, Allison."
"It is. It is the only option." Slightly frustrated voice. Loud, even.
Well, good thing his mother isn't here. John winces but doesn't let go or move his head. "But I love you anyway."
"You love Riley."
John hmms. "I've never said that and she's never asked. So I don't."
"You do. You will. Because she's real and she needs you. You will. Let go."
"No. To all of that. Why do you want me to let go? I don't want to let go."
She thinks that he will. She's sure that he will. "Let go."
That is not an answer. At all.
"Tell me why." He won't. He doesn't. And that's part of the reason sleeping with Riley left him feeling so shitty.
"She doesn't like the way you respond to me. Let go."
"She's not here."
"I know she isn't home. Why won't you let go?"
"Because I'm selfish. I like this. I want this."
Tensing. A little. Eventually, a lot. "Why?"
"...Are you afraid of me?"
"I'm not afraid of you. If I were afraid of you, I'd make you let go."
"But you really want me to let go."
"I don't know."
"Then why do you keep asking me to?" Well, more like telling but.
"It makes my head hurt. If I don't. If you do."
"I'm sorry." So John does let go. But he doesn't move away.
She frowns, more than a little upset now.
"I don't know what to do." Because everything he's thought or suggested past tea was apparently wrong.
"It doesn't matter. I must be glitching." From the pool.
"It matters," John says quietly. "Tell me what would help."
She shrugs, finally letting go of that fork. "I don't know what would help. She'll have to fix it."
"I don't want her to fix it." John leans forward and kisses Allison on the cheek before going back to his now cold tea and finishing it.
She blinks, and tries not to react to that. Pretty much fails. So. Off to her room.
The entire time John was dealing with Riley he didn't feel overwhelmed the way he does when Allison leaves. So. He'll wash the cup he used for tea and go up to her room too. Hover in the doorway. "Tell me what to do and I'll do my best. I'm sorry."
Of course, she does the absolutely mature thing. Which is to get in bed and completely under her blankets. Blanket shield? No. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"Allison..." John sighs and sits down. Near the bed, not on it. "You're breaking my heart. Tell me how to stop breaking you."
"You didn't break me, the pool broke me. Riley broke me."
"When I say that I love you does that make your head hurt too?" Like his own, he thinks.
Tight voice. "Yes."
"Should I stop?" Yes would be the obvious answer but considering John is doing it to himself as well he is not going with the obvious answer.
"I don't know." Staring at the inside of her blanket, apparently, helps.
As opposed to looking at John, one assumes. "Should I leave you alone?"
As opposed to looking at anyone. "I don't know." Tighter voice.
"Do you know what I'm afraid of? More than anything else?"
"No. I don't know."
"Should I tell you? It might make your head hurt more."
"Tell me. My head already hurts."
"I'm afraid of losing you. Because something bad happens or because you hate me and leave."
"I'm not going to leave." She certainly sounds upset though.
"But you're angry. Or something."
"I'm not angry." Crying, a little, but not angry. "I don't hate you and I'm not going to leave."
"It's hard to tell." Touching her shoulder through the blanket.
Considering what happens here, touching her in her bed? Probably not the best idea. She tenses up a lot, shoulder tight.
That gives John pause as he pulls his hand away. "Can we talk in my room?"
"...okay."
"Can you walk?"
"Yes. I think so." Still, she's waiting until he starts going, unless he plans on carrying her. Which...well.
That just confuses him a bit. "Do you want me to carry you?"
"I'm waiting for you to go."
John raises his eyebrows. "Why?" He's still tempted to carry her but he always is when something is wrong.
"I don't know." Probably a bit embarrassed at crying. At tensing up for no reason she can think of.
"If I carry you will something bad happen?"
"No. I don't think so. What something bad?"
"I don't know, seemed like a good idea to ask." Up we go, Allison, blanket and all.
It probably is a good idea to ask. On a really bad day, she might fight him on it. But. Off to his room.
Off to his room, on to his bed. With clean sheets and everything. "I'm sorry I made you cry."
Thank God for that. "You didn't make me cry."
"But you were crying."
"But you didn't make me cry. You didn't." The pool, she thinks, maybe Or Riley. Either way, she's doing it again and she doesn't like it at all. It's stupid, she thinks.
"It's okay." See? John will lay down and be really close. Not quite touching because he doesn't want to make it worse.
"I'm glitching. Am I glitching?" She thinks so. She's pretty sure.
"It's okay. You'll be fine. I promise, okay?"
"It won't be okay. I'm broken. I'm sorry. I sank."
"Shh. You'll be fine, I promise. You're allowed to be upset. Trust me, okay?" Putting his arms around her and hoping that if she cried herself out it would be fine.
Is it ever fine? "I trust you. Okay. I do."
"Crying is fine. Don't...hold it in, you'll just feel worse."
Well, she won't then, will she. At all.
That's rather...good and distressing all at the same time, isn't it? John holds her and doesn't say anything.
"I don't want to go. All right? Okay? Please?"
"I'm sorry I said that. I don't want you to go." Hugging her a bit.
"Okay. Sure. Yes. Okay." Calming. A bit.
"I'm just scared. I say stupid things when I'm scared." Yeah no kidding. John thinks he should have seen that coming.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"No. Afraid for you."
"I wish you weren't. I don't want you to be. You shouldn't be."
"I know, but...I can't help it, I'm sorry."
"I know. I'm sorry too."
"...Why are you sorry?"
"For pushing you. Earlier. For not leaving you alone."
"It's fine. I was being an ass." John sighs and puts his head against her shoulder. The way he figures, whatever the hell is going on with Riley will hopefully mean that Sarah won't pay a lot of attention to Allison's state.
That? Is probably incredibly likely, considering Riley's own current state. At least for a day or so. "Yes. You were being an ass. It's fine." She closes her eyes. "I'm tired."
"Do you want to sleep in here?" John will stay up. Read. Something. "We have all of tomorrow too."
"She's coming home tomorrow night?" She'll be...confused when he's still awake when she wakes up. "Yes. I would like to sleep in here."
"That's what she said." John is entering the state where he'll do everything he can to stay clearheaded which will last up until the week Riley Dawson is murdered. Because he can't protect Allison from whatever the hell is going on while under Sarah's influence and that more often than anything else, is usually what propels him to this manic state to begin with. "Okay."
"All right. Thank you." It does't take Allison long to fall asleep tonight. Not at all. She might even sleep longer than the usual 3-4 hours. That'll be interesting, won't it?
More sleep is good for her, he thinks. However, four and a half hours after she falls asleep John will check her pulse as carefully as he can. Her forehead, for a temperature. And when his throat starts to itch around hour six, he will think of every single curse in Spanish that he can ever remember hearing.
The fact that she doesn't spring awake when he feels for a pulse or checks for a fever might be a little...unnerving? But she was clearly upset, so more sleep is good. Six hours, seven hours is pushing it a little bit. After eight, there's a minor bit of a fever. This is why you don't mess around near a pool when you have a bad immune system, boys and girls.
This is when having first aid kits near every bed in the house is useful. Minor fever means trying to get her to wake up, a little bit. "I need to take your temperature, Allison." Common sense would state that bad immune systems or not, late January is not the time for impromptu swimming. Especially considering it was the better part of an hour before either of them got out of their wet clothes.
Since when have either of them had common sense about that sort of thing? Allison opens her eyes, looking at him a little blearily. "Okay..." Now, even now, she's more worried aboout him.
Honestly? Riley started it. So John smooths Allison's hair and takes her temperature. Oddly enough? They don't have standard cough medicine in the house. So going out might end up happening, even if it's just walking to the store.
So, that'll be fun. Her temperature is barely hitting 101, which isn't great but could be worse. "John?"
With their luck it'll be 103 within the next three hours. After he takes hers he'll take his own. 100.3 Fine to drive, for the moment. "We need to get cold medicine."
With their luck, they'll both be at 103 in the next three hours. "Oh. Okay." Sitting up time? Now.
"I want us to hurry there and back, okay?" So not a lot of time for changing clothes and all that whatnot. "Dress warmly."
She nods, and does this quickly. So they can hurry there and back. To the car?
To the car. And to the local drug store. Where John will get enough cold medicine for a few people along with fever reducers. Because when they get sick it's for damn near forever it seems like. "How are you feeling?" Do they need to get anything else?
"Tired. Thirsty." Juice, maybe. Or gatorade, for electrolytes.
He nods and takes her arm. They'll get both. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything." Hurrying along, so they can get out of here.
"Mm." So, time to be rung up, get things into the car, and head home. Thank God it's early.
Thank God Sarah's not home. When they get back to the house, she'll go to put the juice and the gatorade away, and then sit down at the kitchen table. Her turn to put her head down on it.
Somewhere in this kitchen there is canned soup, John has seen it. Why the hell is it hidden behind a million other things? He doesn't want to have either of them take cold medicine on an empty stomach. So when he finally tracks that down and puts it in the microwave, he'll boil water for more tea and go over to the table. Rubbing the space between Allison's shoulders.
She sighs, a little bit. "Are you okay?" Always protecting him. Even from germs.
"I will be. You slept a lot." No nightmares, that he could tell.
"But are you now?" No dreams at all, which was interesting. And different. "I did?"
"I'm going to be sick too. So we have to take care of each other, okay?" John smiles a little and keeps rubbing. "Yeah. The whole night through."
"I'll take care of you. Okay." She really does not mind the rubbing much at all. "That's strange."
He chuckles a little because each other turned into Allison taking care of John, unsurprisingly. "You were really worn out. Long day." When was the last time she cried like that?
Probably not since her birthday. Maybe before. "A very long day. Did you sleep?"
"Not as much as I should have." Oh, John. At least it's only half a lie? "Pretty sure we'll both sleep lots in the next week or two." Soup and hot water are done so John will fuss with that for a minute before returning. Lemon tea and soup!
No doubt that they will. And that Sarah will be too busy messing with her new brain-toy to notice. "You should sleep more next time. I'm still tired." But: soup and tea!
Soup and tea and more backrubs because Allison seemed to like it and he's pretty sure she wouldn't have been crying yesterday if not for him. Also the being sick thing is tied to the girl he got involved with, so it's also his fault in a roundabout way. "Yeah. After we eat we can probably go back to sleep." Will Sarah even be home much between now and when they get better? Probably not.
She would disagree with that a lot, but what wouldn't she disagree with him about, lately?
At least there's that. Sarah not being home much. Lucky, in a way. "Okay. That'll be good."
Lucky for them. Not so lucky for Riley. Interesting, how things balance. How they don't. "Okay. Is this okay, what I'm doing?" Questions John possibly should have asked fifteen minutes ago.
Crazy robot karma. "It's okay. Yes. I don't mind." At all. Really.
Yes, that exactly. "Okay." John will actually eat most of this soup. It doesn't taste odd. Yay for Charlie buying canned goods. "I like...things like this." Small displays of affection, kind of.
She'll eat as much of it as she can before putting her spoon down. Not very hungry, apparently. But at least it doesn't taste weird. "It's nice."
"I like helping you. Feeling connected."
"It's nice to have help sometimes. Feeling connected?"'
"Touching, I guess." No, John knows that's what he means he just feels slightly skeevy.
Oh, John. "I like it. It's okay." Slight smile.
Have we talked about John's intimacy issues yet today? No? Do you have a few hours? "Okay." So that means he won't stop until he's done and gets up to clear their plates away. "Take some of the cold medicine?"
Hours? Days? Weeks? "All right. I will." Right now, in fact. "You too?"
John nods and see? He will totally take this fake cherry tasting shit. "Oh fuck, why is it so nasty?" Shudder.
She makes a face. "To discourage illness." Yeah, that's totally why.
Blink, blink. John cracks up. "Oh, God."
Blink and blink right back at him. "Are you okay?"
He nods, too busy laughing. "Sorry that's just...kind of an amazing conclusion." Oh, ow, coughing isn't amazing however.
She smirks, slightly, and shrugs. "Well." Worried look. "We should go to bed." How often do either of them say that?
Never. "Okay. You gonna sleep in my room again?"
So that's interesting. "If you'd like."
"I would, yeah."
It'll certainly make it easier to take care of him. And vice versa. "All right."
Not like either of them on cold medicine are very effiicient. Hilarious, yes. "Thank you." So up! And sleeping, yay.
That gets interrupted by a phone call from Sarah on the house line, a few hours later, but John is medicated and Sarah is distracted so all she knows is that it's cold but they're fine, really, if they do get sick the grocery store can deliver honestly Mom he turns 21 in seven weeks and doesn't need another babysitter and all John knows is that she's busy and won't be home often if at all in the next week or so.
And honestly, Allison is a little relieved to know that. She's sure she can work through this glitch, whatever it is, on her own. Without Sarah. With a lot of sleep. That's different. Maybe if she can do that, the constant reprogramming will stop.
Right.
So, more sleep. Weirdly dreamless sleep. She doesn't mind that at all. No dreams means no nightmares. That's not a bad thing.
John doesn't think Allison is glitching. She's sick but so is he; when one of them gets a cold the other usually ends up with it too. So there is that. Also he doesn't want to deal with Sarah thinking she is, or Allison insisting she is while Sarah looks on, on top of cold medicine. The stuff makes him feel like a freaking cartoon as it is.
So it's lucky for them that Sarah's barely home this week. (Unlucky for others, but) They can sleep, and rest. Allison does sleep and rest. Fever going up and going down. A weird, boneless sleep where you barely move during it and feel weird when you wake up.
Not that she's a stranger to feeling weird.
Neither is John but, really? It'd be nice, he decides around the second day, if his body could make up it's mind about the blanket versus no blankets thing. Considering either way he ends up curled in Allison it'd be nice if he could stop waking up in order to hunt down covers and then throw them off later. "I hate this shit."
"Me too." Slightly hoarse, curling a little closer. At least Riley's not here to see this. "Ice pack might help."
"Nngh." Sitting up, slowly. Petting Allison's hair because..well John doesn't really have any fucking clue why but he should probably get ice packs.
Navigating stairs while running a fever is fun. It also involves sitting on stairs as you go.
She certainly doesn't mind hair petting.
Allison sits up, of course, so she can listen for him walking down the stairs and come help him if he falls. She really hopes he doesn't fall.
He doesn't fall. He does manage to fill a grocery bag with bottles of water and ice packs. There are towels upstairs anyway. "Mission accomplished. Lay down!" Mock-chastising because, really. John couldn't convince anything or anyone to do anything at all in the state he's in.
She does, however, lay right back down. Oh, Allison. "Are you okay? Didn't fall?" Just in case she missed it, or something.
"No. I didn't fall." Kind of glad for that, too. So, more hair petting and an icepack. "Do you want water? I brought water."
She closed her eyes for a moment, and nodded. "Okay. Water's good. Thank you."
John smiles because he feels like he's doing something right. For once. Protecting her and letting her protect him even though they're both way too sick. Sicker than people should be but they always are. Besides, being close is nice. And cold medicine combined with everything else somehow makes it easier to feel things other than angry.
Water is in those sports-styled bottles that has a click lid, so neither of them have to worry about spilling it every if they lose the top. Nifty. He opens one and puts it in the crook of her arm while wrapping the icepack in a towel and putting it against the back of Allison's neck.
Sighing, just a little bit, because an icepack right now is nice. Once he has that finished and is settled back in bed, she'll get him an icepack and pull the blankets back over them. "Better? Is that better?"
John smiles. "It's probably really weird of me. I hate being sick but I like this, quiet, no fights just us. That's weird, isn't it?"
She shakes her head. "No. It's not weird." She doesn't think so anyway.
He pets her hair again. "I'd rather be like this than when I can't focus. It's nice not to be mad anymore."
Slight smile. "It'd be better if we weren't sick."
"Well yeah. But I'll take what I can get." Which is outright sad when you think about it.
More than a little bit, definitely. "All right." Adjusting his icepack.
"I'm glad you're here." Whether he means in his room or just here, in general, is hard even for John to figure out. But in his worst nightmares he's alone.
"I'm glad that I'm here too." In his room, she thinks. Because, if she were honest with herself, if she could be, she's not glad that either of them are here.
Well, no. And that is where so much of John's anger and frustration stems from. The vague knowledge that none of this is what he'd planned on happening to either of them, that he was supposed to be away from this and his mother by this point.
When he's sick and it's not just him it's them; when it's a cold and not the great unfocusing, he can't really remember that. In a way, being ill for a reason is the only break he gets. That either of them get.
Either way John just smiles again and pulls Allison closer, moving the icepack over her shoulders.
Sometimes, when she's very very out of it or very very tired, she remembers where they were supposed to be at this point. Sometimes, she can't remember why they're not there, or where they are at all. Breaks like this are good. Nice. Despite the fever. The illness.
"Sometimes," John says and it could be minutes or hours later, he can't tell really. "I want to never go outside." He's half awake and his nose is against Allison's shoulder.
And that's fine, because she's somehow got her fingers threaded in his hair. "We shouldn't. If the other machines are coming, we should get a bomb shelter." Oh, Allison. What?
John lets out a little chuckle because he's brought this up to his mother before and her response makes no sense, even now. "We always know where the movie theaters are. For a safehouse this isn't very safe."
It does seem like, to her, if you were trying to keep the leader of the resistance safe and alive until the end of the world you'd at least keep him away from the machnes until then. "No, it's not very safe. And the food tastes funny."
"It's better when you cook. When Charlie buys food." Which is good and bad. Good because they get un-drugged food for a little while. Bad because that means withdrawl for John and then reacclimating when Sarah gets around to organizing the fridge. "Can we make a safe room?"
And isn't that fun. Charlie must think that's interesting. "Yes. We can make a safe room." She wonders what Sarah will think of that.
Sarah has safes built into the downstairs floor. "A real one and a fake one." What?
And later, they'll have them built into their bed. "A real one and a fake one?" Well, she's certainly perplexed by that.
"Build a safe room into the ground. I want my room to be safe. For you?"
"...those are two completely different things." Oh, Allison. "A safe room in the ground is a good idea."
He tilts his head to look at her. "Your room isn't safe for you."
"I don't like my room." Head on his shoulder now.
"I wish you could stay in my room." Petting her hair.
"She'd get upset." Sarah? Or Riley?
"I know." Both? Most likely. "But...for a while? Like...a safe place to visit. People do that, right?"
"For a while. Yes. People do that." Small smile.
"Okay. So a saferoom in the ground. In the garden?" That Sarha doesn't plant a damn thing in anyway. "And my room is safe." And this is a very...twelve year olds hiding from the boogeyman sort of conversation, isn't it?
It really, really is. "Your room is safe. And a room in the ground in the garden." She smiles at him. "That will be good."
John grins. "Yay." Oh, John.
She snorts, just for a second. "Yay."
Still, for some reason, the idea that he's helping Allison be safe is making him very happy right now. And from this point onward he'll never lock his door to her, even when she won't leave him alone and that's what he thinks he wants.For now? Smiles and small touches. Water and icepacks and cold medicine and sleeping.