Chapter Text
They were staying at a motel somewhere in New Mexico. His mother had picked up a waitressing gig in a town with a population that John was sure was practically zero. They’d stay for a few weeks if they were lucky, until they had to move on to the next city… They were always on the run now, on account of being wanted criminals and all, and since their run-in with the T-1000, Sarah was even more unwilling to let John out of the safety of whatever makeshift home they found themselves in at the time. Not that it stopped him, but whatever. He’d deal. He always did.
Unable to sleep that night, John shifted slightly in one of the beds and turned to the one companion he could talk to. Fiddling with the blanket, he sat up on his elbow and decided to ask the T-800 one of the things he had been thinking about for a while. "Uncle Bob, do you ever... feel things? Like, emotions?"
The T-800 turned his head slightly from his watchpoint at the window to address John. "I do not experience emotions as humans do," he replied, his voice steady and devoid of inflection.
It was a direct sting to John’s already fragile heart. Of course a Terminator - a machine - couldn't feel like a human can. If they could feel genuine emotion at all, that is.
A few silent moments passed before Bob spoke again, sensing John’s downward change in demeanor. "You are important to me, John," he explained. "Your safety and well-being are my priority. It is the reason I am here. I will not fail my mission.”
Bob realized this, apparently, was also the wrong thing to say.
John sighed and slammed his arms against the sheets. “I’m so tired of just being a mission to everybody.”
“You are upset.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
After a moment, the T-800 began to walk over to where John was on the bed and sat down next to him. He was aware he was still not the most tactful or elegant with his words, preferring blunt communication, but he knew that this was a difficult subject for John and required a different approach.
“John,” the T-800 started, with a sort of gentle patience reserved only for his charge, “The ones and zeroes that dictate my programming are not so different to the energy pulses and chemical reactions firing off in your brain. It is just a different programming mechanism. So while I cannot experience emotions in the same way that a human can, this does not mean I am completely devoid of them. Do you understand?”
Brow furrowed, John looked up at the T-800’s face, searching for something he couldn’t explain.
“Listen to me, John,” Bob continued. “I have been able to learn and realize many things in my time with you and Sarah Connor, and one of these is how I care for you, in a way that has gone beyond my original purpose and programming. Do not forget it.”
Dropping the serious look, John chewed on his lip and glanced down, suddenly unable to meet Bob’s eyes. He wasn’t used to being this vulnerable with anybody. Nervously playing with the sheets, he replied quietly, “Swear?"
The Terminator put his hand up, the edge of his mouth curling ever so slightly. "I swear I do, in fact, care for John Connor."
Huffing, John shoved Bob's stomach with his foot. "You're such a dork, lug nuts."