Disclaimer: Don't own TSCC.

A/N: Z is for Zippity do dah, I'm done!!! Thank you all SOOO much for your reviews, especially Seriyah, JovialShogun, and A. Annie .N for your relatively consistent support. Without all you guys who reviewed I never would have finished this. Thanks for your encouragement and support, and for making this my most reviewed and only successful multi-chapter fic. You guys rock!!

I wanted to end on a happy note, but it just didn't happen. Apparently, I don't write happy. This is Cameron introspective (wishful thinking on my part), with some slight hints of John/Cameron.

Rating: K



She doesn't want to admit it, but lately every shot that tears through her body or metal hand that clutches her throat starts to hurt a little bit more, starts sending more than just signals to her chip that could be interpreted as pain.

And she doesn't want to admit it, but the worry in John's eyes is getting a little too piercing, and the disdain in Derek's has actually become biting (a new kind of pain), and Sarah's guarding gaze has her wondering for more than a millisecond just what she did wrong.

But she can't admit, she can't hurt, she can't wonder, and she certainly shouldn't feel anything, anything inside her chest besides a stone heart and a steel ribcage—not this hollow sadness, or warm happiness, or gnawing worry. And she certainly shouldn't be able to think; she shouldn't refer to herself as "I" instead of "Cameron: insert model number here".

And now that she can feel that makes it all the worse, because she's aware that John thinks she's lying when she tries to tell him all of this, and that makes her chest hurt and that isn't allowed. She doesn't want to admit it, but all these new found feelings just bring more pain and fright, and it's a never ending cycle.

She is scared, so, so scared that this is it. This is as good as it will get. This is the highest point.

And from the highest point, the only place you can go is down.