{closed|complete} Living breathing metal.

[antitachyonic.livejournal.com]

Warnings for language and length. 4200 words good lord. >.<"
How quickly could something get really damned bad? That was the kind of question John never really wanted to answer or even consider, really, but after taking Allison's gun lest she try to shoot Marcus (and really, if he was metal, what fucking good would a bullet do?) and then getting her to come on, get the hell out of that overcrowded space so she could breathe and they could talk, it was foremost in his mind.

Apparently adding metal-paranoid Resistance members and new, wholly unfamiliar places with metal people, Skynet or no, was a great way to cause panic. Not that John had a lot of experience dealing with panic attacks save his own; Sarah's small freakouts where much more violent than he planned on allowing Allison to get. Still. More space, more air, less chance of them being stared at or overheard by anyone else - the ship didn't count, in this case - seemed like a good idea.

So once they're in an empty enough hallway John takes her by the shoulders. "You have got to calm down."

At this point, she hasn't even noticed that he took her gun. Much less that they've moved. Just muttering 'metal metal metal' under her breath, and panicking. Freaking out, really. Unlike Kyle and Derek, she's never really been alone with metal. With machines. Not that this was alone, but...still.

So, not so much with the calming, John.

"Look at me, Allison." Jesus, they're what? Two, maybe three years apart not counting TDE-weirdness and he has no idea how to get her to breathe. "It's fine. Okay? But you need to snap the hell out of this."

Looking at him? Pff. Shaking her head and looking everywhere but at him. "It's fine? It's fine? He's metal. I can't...I can't. Connor, he's metal."

"Yeah? I know. I've lived with metal, okay? It's fine. Not all metal is Skynet, you have to believe me. Allison." Trying his damndest to make eye contact here.

Wow. Ways to not alleviate a panic attack: those. "You've lived with metal?" Oh, doesn't that get her to back up an inch or two. "No. He knows Skynet."

Which means he lets go like he's been burned, pulling his hands away and crossing them over his chest. Default posture, closed off body language, none of which is probably going to help either of them at his point. "You're being irrational."

At some point, she's going to realise he has her gun. Right now, she just looks hurt and bothered. "Irrational? No. No, I'm not being irrational."

"You are. You're not thinking and you sure as hell aren't listening to me. If he was Skynet, why didn't he kill us both?" John is proving that he is not really capable of doing this, but walking away (with her gun) is not a viable option in his mind.

"I am listening to you. You lived with metal." Face making now. "We're not his targets. Or this is a Skynet trap."

"God forbid I lived with metal. I'm still fucking alive and that's more than I can..." Shit, shit, shit. No, bad idea. "It's not Skynet. I have spent my entire fucking life running from Skynet and this is not it."

"You think you're the only one who spent their whole life running from Skynet? You're not that special, Connor. Metal is metal and he's Skynet."

"How old were you when the world ended, Young, because let me tell you something. Running from Skynet before it takes over is really fucking different and metal is not always the same the whole fucking world 'round, okay?"

"Three. I was three and it was almost my birthday, ok?" She glares at him. "Metal is metal in my experience. He's metal and I will not fucking calm down." Aaaand noticing. "Where is my gun?"

"I have it and I'm not giving it back. What, you're gonna shoot him, now?" Glaring right back. "You're experience isn't much. What, sixteen, seventeen years of running when the world's unmade. It's different when everyone thinks you're fucking crazy, when Skynet comes after your mother before you're even fucking born. Before it's even online. All you've done is run and blow shit up, I'm sure. Use your god damn brain and listen to me."

"All I've done? All I've done? You don't even know me. You have no idea what happened to any of us. At least you remember what things were like before the war." Shoving him. "Give me my gun."

"No, I don't know you but I know someone just like you who got themselves killed over the same shit." John narrows his eyes. "There are a lot of assumptions in that statement. I know what happened to you, all fucking three of you, once. Dead. All of. You die. Does that help?" Flinching when she shoves him and takes a step back. "So you shoot him and then what? He dies? Try again. Skynet or no, there aren't enough bullets between the two of us to do a damned thing more than piss him off and I'd rather you didn't get you fucking neck snapped."

It gets her to shove him again. "You don't know what happens to me. You're from the past. You don't know." And god help him if he explains how he does. "You don't." And shoving again.

The most tight-lipped unhappy smile ever crosses John's face as he flinches again. "You die. Over something stupid, you end up dead. Past, present, future it doesn't fucking matter! Stop fucking pushing me!" Taking another step back and hitting a wall behind him. "Cut it the fuck out."

"How do you know? How do you know? I'm not stupid." No. Just scared and freaked out and alone. And continuing to shove him.

"Because she was supposed to be you, only it didn't work. And she glitched and thought she was you. Okay?" Not an explanation in the least.

Scared, freaked out and alone makes two of them because one more shove and John shoves her back, hard enough to at least create some more space if not send her sprawling. "You do stupid things, everyone does, and they end up dead. I'm not giving it back."

Send her sprawling it does, and she certainly doesn't appreciate it, John. Because she has absolutely no idea what John's talking about, and now she's even more freaked out. "What the hell are you talking about? Be me? Who was supposed to be me?"

"Cameron. The metal. My friend." She kept pushing him. It's not an excuse and he knows it but this is the day that has yet to fucking end. He needs a break, a breather, but there is nowhere to go and if he leaves her to her own devices she'll get killed again.

Just like Cameron, picking a fight she couldn't win. "So just stop."

So. This is an entirely new type of panic attack. Because she's heard of infiltrator metal, but she's never heard of them replacing people. And she can't even begin to imagine why they'd want to replace her. She's not important. She's not special. "God. What? Metal. Your metal friend." Vaguely hysterical laugh, and excuse her, John, while she gets her back against the wall and freaks out some more. Not even trying to get up.

And he's not moving any closer either. Just adjusting his stance against the wall - and what isn't some sort of great, green, pulsating surface in this place, really? - and looking at the floor. "Yes." One breath than another. "I've lost enough fucking people today and regained the dead. Enough. If you shoot him, you'll end up dead. You don't have to trust him, but you know enough to at least know that's true."

"Regained the dead. Ok. Sure. Right." And there's that laugh again. Excuse her while she leans her forhead against her knees. "I hate this. I hate this place."

"Dead father, dead uncle, dead friend I never knew in the first place." Have fun with that, Allison. "I hate it too. But if you get yourself killed, here, what the fuck am I supposed to say when we get back? If we get back? Sorry, Dad, but we met this metal guy who said he wasn't Skynet and Allison went and shot him and well...she didn't make it?"

"Derek would shoot you." She will not have fun with that. She'll have shaky freakout time with that. In her own world, she wouldn't indulge, but.

"Yeah that'll be fun." Like he's never been shot at before. "Not like I've never aruged with him or anything."

"You don't argue with Derek." He talks at you. "I don't want to be here..."

"No you argue around him. And hope to God or something that he does what he says he has. Or that he doesn't." Which is familiar, yes? "Me neither. If I had my way we'd all go back to our lives and be better off for it."

"Better. Right. Back to your metal girlfriend that looks like me. Okay. Sure."

"...Fuck you." It's quite possibly the most tired John has ever been, saying that, so there isn't much force behind it. Still. "If you didn't know me you wouldn't have died, she wouldn't have been built, and the world fucking keeps turning."

"Oh. I see. I meet you, and now I get to die. Thank you. Really."

"What, they teach you TDE but not how the shit works? Cameron's past has nothing to do with your future. The whole timeline's been changed, now. You don't even know me. Maybe we should keep it that way." Slight smirk. "But I'm not giving you back your gun. Good luck getting one from someone else."

"Assuming this isn't the way it always happened. I'm not a fucking bubble tech. Give me my gun." Really, really bothered at the idea of being left alone and weaponless. Wonder why.

"No." For all his suggestions of leaving her alone he actually does not currently have the energy to leave his spot. Fancy that. "No. This isn't the way it happened and I'm not giving it back. Not unless you swear not to shoot him." Not to shoot anyone, really, but John is tired. "Promise and I'll give you the gun."

"You don't know that. You don't." Glaring at the floor. "I promise. Fine."

Small laugh. "You keep saying that and then not liking my answer. I know, okay? Trust that. Or I wouldn't bother saying it. Why won't you shoot him?"

"Because I want my fucking gun." Which...isn't a good reason, really.

"Yeah, try again. You promise, I give you the gun, and you'll go right back in there and try to shoot him. I'm not stupid." And John feels responsible for them both, now.

Glaring at the ground more, and then at him. "I wasn't going to do that." And maybe she really wasn't. Maybe. "What do you want me to say?"

He sighs and shifts the backpack, taking the gun out. Sliding it across the floor in her direction, then the clip he'd taken out of it. "Fine. Nothing. I don't want you to say anything." What he wants are for his legs to work so he can go.

Grabbing it, checking it and stowing it quickly. Then back into that curled up position. "You want something."

"Fuck what I want." Glaring at the ceiling.

"You want your friend."

"Yeah, well, who gives a shit."

That gets another glare. "You do. Apparently. You sure as hell don't want me around."

"I don't want you to get shot, hurt, maimed, or killed. I don't know you. You don't know me. It's awkward as fuck and I have done nothing but be shocked, amazed, and argued with all fucking day. It is not the same as not wanting you around."

"It is. It is the same. It's the same." Insistantly panicky now. That's fun, right? No?

"What the fuck is wrong now? It is not the god damn same. If it were same I wouldn't be standing here." Half-truth, anyway. "So stop it."

Oh, John. Don't you know that telling people to stop it just makes it worse? It certainly makes her mutter to herself more, doesn't it? "Nothing's wrong. Nothing is wrong. What could be fucking wrong."

"Look." Taking a deep breath. "I'm going to walk...that way. Sixty feet, maybe. Because I'm not helping." Not that he's sure he knows what the hell made him think he could help. Allison is not Cameron and the latter didn't always listen to him either. "So." Now he starts moving, finally.

And the second that he's more than ten feet away from her? She bolts. Because she is freaking the fuck out. She doesn't even have any idea where she's going, where they are, but she's running.

John stops dead center in the hallway and sighs. Sixty feet. Not that far. She'd said he didn't want her around like that was wrong so he tried to compromise, space without go away and leaving her alone and now she's running off...that way. Not like either of them know where the fuck they are.

Follow or don't? Is it even really a question.

Still, he'll jog. Not quite running, right? She's not even really his anything to be running after, he thinks, half muttering under his breath how he was only trying to help for the love of God.

She has no idea where she's going, so when she's gone far enough that her heart is pounding and she's pretty sure she's away from metal and people she stops. And sits back down against the wall.

Some narrow hallway between one thing and another and John loses her. Panic, real and harsh in his chest before being able to even take a breath and figure that there are really only three little break-off hallways from this point so she couldn't have gone far right?

Or something.

"Why do I even..." Quietly, under his breath, once he can manage to catch it anyway. Why does he even bother, why does he care, she is not his responsibility (isn't she?), she doesn't even like him (not that he's helped), and everything he's said has just made things a million times worse so he should probably stop talking and go get lost. Really and truly lost. It couldn't be hard in this huge place, only two people know he's here anyway.

Still he turns a corner and there she is and he stops. Again. And sits in the opening past the hallway - this one is blue, what the hell really - so at least if she makes another run for it he'll see where she goes.

Only two people and the ship, of course, know he's here. And she's here. So it might be a little harder. Maybe. Still, she's not bolting again yet. Not that she can catch her breath to do so even if she wanted to. Who knew that having a panic attack had a downside.

She liked blue, so she'd gone down this way. Because she liked blue.

Well she could ask the ship where he'd gone off to. Marvel of marvels the damned thing would probably tell her. These are the things he thinks about when he takes one deep breath followed by another. "I'm sorry. I'd only meant to help."

"'What the fuck is wrong now' isn't helping." She manages to say this after a few minutes. Not looking at him. Not looking at anything but her knees. "Kyle. Kyle's your dad, right? I saw the way you were looking at him. Kyle's your dad and he's dead, right?"

"I didn't say I was any good at it." Well he's not even really facing in her direction. "Yes. Always a hero, and always dead."

"And Derek's what?" His uncle, obviously. But otherwise.

"He was...Kyle died before I was born, I met Derek in the last year. He'd died less than a week ago."

"And her? It? Whatever. Your metal?"

"Friends. Just friends, that's it." Your metal makes him draw in, a bit.

"No. Dink. What happened to her."

"What the hell is a dink?" John is so tired. "Stop calling me names, please. She got into a fight with something stronger than her and it took her chip and went to when I met you."

"Dink. Goober. Goofball. Dummy." She's defining it, ok. "Stronger than her? What's stronger than metal?"

Yeah he gets that. "As accurate as it might be, I have a name. I don't like it, but it's mine. So please." Small sigh. What is stronger than metal indeed? "More metal."

"John. Fine." Frowning. "Bigger metal?"

"Thank you. Not...bigger, though yes. Just stronger. She wasn't built to fight terminators."

Nodding. "What were you going to do, if we were still there? At home?"

"Just...tried to figure out what changed. What was different, what was the same. Followed you guys, probably. Not like I even know where I was."

"And your friend? What about her?" Her and not it. Despite the hatred of metal. It's weird.

"Tried to find her chip. John Henry, who had it. Find out why he took it in the first fucking place."

"Why? Exactly, why." Looking at him now. Even if he's not facing her.

"She was my friend. Why not? I didn't have anything else." Just his mother and she wouldn't go with him, which was interesting wasn't it?

Interesting and crazy. "Your friend. Right. Metal friend." Nodding. "Fine. If we get home, I'll tell Derek to help you."

John snorts. "Good luck with that." Yeah, no, John won't hold his breath. "Don't worry about it." Time for John to put his head down on his knees.

"I'll tell Kyle, and Kyle will tell Derek." It's a concession she's willing to make. She has no reason for it. Not at all. "You don't know where anything is."

"Just don't okay." Shaky breath. "The moment Derek hears metal he won't be interested and it's my responsibility, not yours."

"I've known Derek for 15 years. I think I know him better than you." Incredulous look. "Don't tell me what not to do."

"How about please? Okay. Please don't ask. Don't do me any favors. All right?" Keeping his head down and running a hand through his hair. "I'll manage." He always does, somehow.

And now she wants to throw something at him, but all she has is her gun. Ff. "If you don't want me to call you a dink don't act like one."

"I said it was accurate, didn't I? Call me whatever you want I don't care anymore." So this is where John gets to have his emotion outburst too, right? Only because it's John it's more like an implosion. All turned inward. "Why would you help me, huh? Why do you care?"

Emotional outbursts all over the place. Oh, ship. Are you sure you took the right people? "Why wouldn't I help you?"

John would argue that any cause that takes him after the last three months has issues. "It's not like we're friends or anything." Oh, John.

"No, you're just my friend's son or something. Whatever. You've known me all of an hour."

"He doesn't know me, okay." And obviously that bothered him. Rocked him to the core and John would love to curl up and die. Or sleep. Whichever is easier. "All we've done is argue."

"You met me an hour ago. You don't know me. You can't tell me what I won't or won't do."

"I'm asking. I don't want your help, I can't afford it and I don't deserve it." Pulling himself in tighter.

"You can't afford it. Fine. Whatever. It's not like we'll get home anyway."

"Shouldn't you be more optimistic about that kind of thing? At least you've got somewhere to call home."

"Yeah. Right. The bombed out shell of ZeiraCorp, eating trash and fighting metal. That's the best home ever. Yaaay us."

"You've known someone for fifteen years. Jesus. I'm not..." Arguing this, again, or even for the first time. "Just never mind. The dink fails at conversation."

"Of course I've known him for 15 years. How the hell do you think a three year old survives judgement day?" Incredulous look again. "Look. Forget it. Start over."

"Sure. Hi, my name is John. I have issues." Lord. At least he sits up?

Snort and laugh there. "Allison. Apparently, I'm a crazy freaking weirdo."

Oh, the face he makes at that. "It's understandable, I guess." Time to turn around and stop addressing the wall.

"I guess. Yeah." So, she'll come over and sit with him. "I'm sorry."

"I wasn't exactly helping. I'm not...good with people. Fuck. Sorry."

"All I really know is Kyle and Derek. And the dog. I was supposed to go do bubble tech, but I don't want to. It's okay."

He kind of wants to know what Kyle is like but hearing that right now is probably a bit much. Beyond the fact that asking is outright creepy. "Better than my mom most of the time, trust me."

Part of her is afraid he'll ask if she's Kyle's girlfriend, because she'd have to go 'eww gross', and that would be awkward. "I don't know your mom."

Aha no. No, no, no. If she is, he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know. "And that's probably for the best, really."

And thank God for that. "Okay. Maybe we should go back." Maybe the metal is gone by now.

"Do you really want to?" Too many people he doesn't know in a strange environment he is utterly unused to. John's exhausted. He just wants to find a quiet corner and sleep. "I'm...really tired. Sorry. I just...I'll stay here."

"I don't even know where here is. I don't want to, no." Shrug. "Maybe we can find bedrooms. Or whatever."

John doesn't expect to find beds. "A quiet corner would be fine, really." Still. Standing!

"It doesn't hurt to check. I'm tired of sleeping on the ground." Oh, hon. Just you wait.

So, checking. Following this hallway until it spills into another larger one and then...a gigantic room. Where there are, in fact, a few people sleeping. In what looks like tiny fleshy cubbies built into the wall.

John walks up to one and just...looks at it. "I think I'd rather sleep on the ground." Way to encourage claustrophobia, there, Stacy.

That? That look on Allison's face? Is utter utter horror. "Is this Lovecraftian too? Did we die and go to hell? Is that what that flash was?" Because ew. Ew. Ew. A thousand times ew.

"Uh..." John would love to lie and say no, but the truth of the matter is this is very Lovecraftian. "Not my version of hell, to be honest. I'd rather be reincarnated as a bug." Tilting his head and poking the little air holes before pulling a face. "Yeah, no." This is not going to fly.

"I can live with sleeping on the floor. Okay?" Because there is no way in Hell she is sleeping in there. "Hell is other people, right? Other people in these things." Backing the hell out of that room.

"...Possibly." Sarte. John smirks a little, before simply turning around and walking out. He doesn't suspect anything will happen to him if he turns away from the crazy holes in the wall, okay?

Or maybe he's a bit too tired to care. "Somewhere that isn't...as creepy. And also not a high-trafficked walkway would probably be good." They should take shifts, he thinks, and frowns. More things he doesn't want to even have to consider.

That'll probably occur to her, all right? The sleeping in shifts thing. Especially since they have guns and all. "Blue hall wasn't that crowded." And she can use her coat for a pillow. "Come on." She even remembers the way back! Amazing.

"Are you tired?" She didn't say, so he'll follow her anyway. "You can sleep first if you want." Blue hall is, in fact, utterly empty. And with only one way in it's not that bad.

"You're more tired. You look tired. You first." She will even give you her coat for a pillow, ok?

And John will blink at it for a moment before realizing why she's handing it to him. John might have passed the point of exhaustion sometime between meeting Marcus and now. "Thanks." He thinks. "Probably won't be out any more than four hours. All right?"

She shrugs. "That's fine. Whatever you want." Four hours is still more than they usually sleep back home, so.

He nods. The phrase 'whatever you want' doesn't sit well with him from her, for some reason, but he needs to shut up and just try to sleep, already.

Takes a while but eventually he's out. Better some form of rested before he has to deal with whatever else this brand new Hell has to throw at him.