D I S C L A I M E R

This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or a used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. This is a work of parody, as defined by the Fair Use Doctrine. Any similarities, without satirical intent, to copyrighted characters, or individuals living or dead, are purely coincidental.

This work has not been endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Raincoast Books, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, or any of the other holding copyright or license to the Harry Potter books or movies. No connection is implied or should be inferred.

This work has not been endorsed by Warner Brothers Entertainment, FOX, or any other entity holding the rights to the Terminator franchise and its characters. No connection is implied or should be inferred.

This is not a commercial work. The authors receive no financial gain from its production or distribution. It is available without charge.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story will for the most part disregard Half Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows (I haven't read DH yet, waiting for the soft-cover version. However, I do have a pretty good idea of events. At any rate, as said, this story will disregard most of its events). Caution, there may be a little OOC'ness (or maybe a lot, roll with it, Ok?)

Now… with adding a second universe, I must also post a spoiler warning for "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles", Season One, and the first episode of Season Two, "Sampson and Delilah". Story will be strictly AU after that point. Have I warned you enough? The OOC warning stands here, too.

I will also warn people… there is SLASH in this story. Yes, boy-on-boy, wand-on-wand, people. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY SUCH MATERIAL, CLICK THE 'BACK' BUTTON NOW.

Still with me? Great… without further adieu, I present, "FATE TWICE DEFIED"

1: OUT OF THE FRYING PAN…

This was not what Harry Potter had in mind, fleeing down a deserted alley in Toronto's downtown with another boy, being pursued by Death Eaters, in the early hours of the morning. How had they found him here? Hadn't he left all that behind, when he fled Britain?

"I think we gave 'em the slip," said the other boy, as they came to a stop beside a dumpster, both breathing heavily.

"I thought… I thought you said… Voldemort wasn't here, Travis," Harry accused, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground.

"I didn't say there weren't Death Eaters here, Harry! Jesus Christ, I've told you enough about the Bartletts."

"I guess so." Harry rubbed his face with his hands, his wand resting in his lap. Travis followed suit, fumbling in his pocket, and retrieving a pack of cigarettes. He had no chance to take one out, however, as a crunch of broken glass under someone's foot had both boys scrambling to their feet.

"We know you're in here, Potter," a voice hissed coldly.

"Come on out, we promise we won't hurt you," a second voice belonging to a woman sneered. She reminded Harry of Belletrix Lestrange during their battle at the Department of Mysteries only a few weeks prior. 'Not bloody likely,' thought Harry, as he mentally ticked off his options. Two teenagers—under aged wizards, against two or more Death Eaters? No way THAT was a fair fight. Fight or flight? Harry could guess Travis was going through the same mental checklist, as they crouched low against the dumpster.

"Harry… you got anything we can use as a port key?"

"Err…" Harry dug into his satchel, his hand closing around a small globe. He had found it in the pocket of his robes not long after he fled Hogwarts. A curious device, it reminded him of the prophecy he had smashed—the prophecy he now knew he was destined to fulfil one way or the other. This one, seemed to change. It seemed to center on one person, a boy that could not be much older than himself. Sometimes it would show other people around him, as if it were a movie of some sorts. Yet, now was not the time to think about it. "Will this work?"

"Um…"

"We'll give you three seconds…" It was the woman's voice again.

"Portus," Travis hissed, tapping the globe with his wand. "Put a finger on it, then." Harry quickly did so. "Activate!"

Harry had used port keys numerous times. All had been unsettling to say the least. This made all those times pale in comparison. It was a jarring experience, the world spinning around them, briefly going black, briefly going completely white, then dimming to the darkness of late evening, as they were thrown to the ground. The air was pierced by several loud bangs, adding to the confusion.

"STUPEFY!" Harry heard Travis shout, followed by a gasp. Harry was still disoriented from the use of the port key, but whatever had happened, it obviously wasn't what Travis had intended. "EXPELLIARMUS!" Travis cried again, "What the fuck!? STUPEFY!"

"Travis?!" Several more loud bangs pierced the air, and as things came into focus, it dawned on Harry he was lying on top of someone. 'No time to worry about him,' he thought, rolling over then getting to his knees. He produced his wand, then spun around to see what Travis was facing.

"Harry, a hand here! STUPEFY!!" Travis cursed. Several more bangs, and something whizzed over Harry's head. It dawned on him at once what it was: the attacker had a gun. Harry thrust his wand at the attacker, screaming, "REDUCTO!!" The curse struck the attacker directly in the midsection, sending him backwards, and blasting a hole in the skin.

"What. The. FUCK?!" Travis gasped, shocked, as the attacker looked down at his chest, then back at the two boys, "It's… it's… it's a fucking MACHINE!"

"IMMOBILUS!!" Harry roared, wand thrust at the attacker. The charm was more than effective, as the attacker was immobilized. "Nice one, Harry," said Travis, breathing heavily. Wands still trained on the machine, they cautiously approached it. "Well, what is it?"

"A cyborg, I guess."

"A what?"

"Cyborg… a cybernetic organism. I men, holy shit, I didn't think they made shit like this," said Travis, poking at the hole in the machine's chest. He then plucked the weapon from its hand, and slid it into his own pocket.

"Err… Travis…" Harry gestured to the boy who still lay unconscious on the ground behind them.

"Check him, I'll keep an eye on the killer can opener," said Travis. Harry had to grin at that one. 'Leave it to Travis to find humour in the situation,' he thought, as he knelt down beside the boy they had inadvertently landed on during their awkward arrival. Harry's head was still swimming slightly from the experience; it was Little Hangleton all over again.

Harry gasped. It was the same boy he had seen numerous times in the globe, the same globe they had just used as a port key. In many ways, the boy reminded him of Travis, even the way he dressed. Harry gently rolled him over, and checked for a pulse. Alive, so they hadn't killed him. That was a good thing. Last thing Harry needed, was the weight of someone's death on his shoulders. He still blamed himself for the death of Cedric Diggory, his first love.

"Harry? He all right?" Travis called.

"I think so. Ennervate!" said Harry, his wand pointed at the boy. His eyes flew open, and he sat up with a start. "What… who…"

"Take it easy, mate," said Harry, climbing to his feet, and offering a hand. It was accepted, and Harry helped the boy to his feet. "Harry Potter."

"John Baum," answered the boy, and they shook hands. "What… what did you do to it?"

"Immobilized," answered Travis, "It won't be goin' anywhere. First time I've seen a killer can opener."

"It's a terminator," said John, "They've been sent to kill me. But… what did you do to it?"

"We can do…"

"Travis! Secrecy!"

"Fuck that, Harry. We're wizards," answered Travis, facing John, "Whatever was going on here… Jesus, that thing WAS shooting at US too!"

"It probably figured you were a threat," said John, "That's what they do."

"What do we do with it, then?" asked Harry, "I mean, the Immobilus charm isn't permanent."

"Got a knife or something?"

"Here," said Travis, pulling out his Leatherman multi-tool from one of cargo pockets of his pants.

"Perfect." John quickly opened up one of the knife attachments, and began removing a portion of skin on the back of the machine's head. He then switched to a pair of tweezers, and while Travis watched with fascination, he began unscrewing something.

"What's that?"

"The CPU. The one sure way to disable one of these things."

"So you just smash it?" asked Harry.

"Not now." John pocketed the chip, and handed the Leatherman back to Travis.

"If it's just a machine…" Travis produced his wand, and gestured at the disabled cyborg, saying, "Reducio!" He then reached down and picked up the now shrunken machine, and slid it into one of his pockets, while John looked on, making no attempt to hide the look of shock and amazement. He looked from Travis, to Harry, then back to Travis several times, still floored by what he had just witnessed.

"Okay, we really need to get out of here. The Ministry will be on us like stink on shit," said Travis.

"Why?" asked John.

"We're not supposed to be doing magic outside of school," answered Harry.

"Both of you, grab onto my arm," said Travis.

"You're not," said Harry. Travis gave a wicked grin.

"Do what?" John looked confused.

"Just grab on, trust us," said Travis.

"But… I don't even KNOW you guys… I mean…" John stammered. Travis just sighed, reached out and Grabbed John by the sleeve of his jacket, and the trio vanished with a noisy CRACK. The noise sent a cat streaking out from under a nearby dumpster, startled by the noise.

The trio landed uncomfortably an instant later, on what appeared to be a beach. John had a bewildered look on his face. "What? How…"

"We just apparated… um… teleported," Travis quickly explained, "I can do it over short distances, but anything more significant, it's better to just use a port key."

"A what?"

"Shit, sorry, getting over your head…" Travis grinned, "Magic is fucking useful for lots of shit, especially for getting out of… yeah…" he trailed off, as his thought ran out of steam.

"Why… magic is real? You mean, there are more just like you?"

"On my magic, I swear," said Travis, "We're just hidden… we keep it to ourselves, away from the Muggles."

"Muggle?"

"Yeah, non-magical folk," answered Harry.

"Like me," John assumed.

"Yes," said Harry, "I mean, as far as I know, the Ministry just… when there's an accident where Muggles see magic, they just modify their memories… like three years ago, when I accidentally blew up my aunt…"

"Huh?"

"Err… a bout of accidental magic…"

"She was dissing your parents, Harry…" Travis began.

"I know, and I don't regret it in the least, she had it coming."

"You mean, she just… you… you made her explode?" John asked, shifting nervously on his feet.

"No, no, nothing like that. She just… well, she swelled up like a balloon, and… she floated off into the sky… that oaf of an uncle of mine, trying to catch her, it was quite amusing looking back at it," Harry grinned. It was then it dawned on him: it was actually rather chilly. "Um, John… what's the date?"

"November 18."

"What ever that port key did, Harry, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore," Travis declared, gesturing with his wand, "Tempus." '22:47' flashed at the end of it. He looked at his watch, the time reading 4:56.

"You wanted something for a port key."

"And you… what the hell was that anyway," asked Travis, "Jesus, I mean, as far as I can tell, we're in a different universe."

"God, mate, you might be right," said Harry, reaching into his satchel, and retrieving the small globe. It had since clouded over.

"So we have to assume that's the case… this is one great big cluster fuck…"

"We just have to think through it," said Harry, "Get a feel for what's going on here. I mean, is Voldemort a threat here?"

"Voldemort?" asked John.

"There's a prophecy about me and him, his real name is Tom Riddle… it comes down to either me or him, in a nutshell."

"Join the club," said John, "I know what THAT feels like…"

"How can you POSSIBLY understand me," Harry snapped, "You've known me all of ten minutes, so…"

"Harry…"

"NO, I HATE that, people assuming to know who I am and what I'm all about."

"I didn't say that, man," said John, testily, "Look. I know EXACTLY what it feels like to have the world sitting on my shoulders, everyone expecting that I know how to act, what to do, so much bullshit! Every time I step outside, I half expect to be cut down by one of those fucking machines. Mom's always going on about keeping a low profile, my own wants be damned! I'm TIRED of being the FUCKING Messiah!!"

"Wow… um… yeah…" Travis managed.

Harry was speechless. Sometimes, the universe has a funny way of pointing things out, saying, 'You're not the only one'. It was like standing in front of a mirror. The kid before him, blinking back at him with soft blue-grey eyes, easily matched him with the problems he faced.

A shiver running through him broke Harry out of his thoughts. "Travis… we should probably get inside somewhere."

"Um, yeah. Let's first figure out if we've even got a wizard world here or not."

"Snitch & Bludger?"

"My thoughts exactly," Travis answered.

"What's that?" asked John.

"It's a hotel here in Toronto… at least, in our world…" Travis gestured to the skyline, barely visible through the trees, although most of the leaves had already fallen.

"Apparation?"

"Link arms again…"

Seconds later, the trio was standing in a secluded spot, not far from Spadina Avenue and Baldwin Street.

"This way…" said Travis, as they made their way out onto Baldwin Street. During the day, the area was a colourful hodge-podge of small second hand stores and the like. They made a bee line for a small building that sat on Kensington Avenue, directly across from Baldwin Street.

"A bit small for a hotel, isn't it?" asked John, clearly not convinced.

"You'll see," Travis grinned, as they pushed their way into the building.

Inside, it looked like they had walked into an expensive hotel. The room was not gigantic by any means, but it was decorated in expensive hardwoods, with several chandeliers bathing it in a soft light. The floors were done in a checkerboard pattern of red and white granite, with a border of black marble.

"How… This is fucking impossible," John declared, shaking his head.

"Oh, it's more than possible," Travis laughed, "It's what we call 'wizard space'. It's been magically expanded. Come on, let's get a room… or two, if… if you want your own." He gestured to John.

"I… whatever. How… this place'll cost a fortune… can… can you afford it?"

"Less than you think," said Travis, as they stepped up to the counter.

"May I help you?" The agent on the other side of the counter had to be fresh out of school, he couldn't be any more than 17.

"'Evening. We need a large room for the night."

"For the three of you?" The agent looked quizzically at the trio, seeming to appraise them, and a smirk crossed his face.

"Um, right. Just… yes, the three of us… and NO, not for THAT purpose, bloody hell!" Harry snorted, quickly catching on to what the agent was thinking.

"All right then… I'll assume you'll need three beds, then. It will cost an additional eight galleons for the extra transfiguration. All told, twenty-five galleons for the night."

"Fine," said Travis, reaching in and pulling out his wallet, "You take debit?"

"Of course."

"Err… Travis?" Harry warned.

"Shit… um… one sec…" He rummaged around in his jacket pocket, pulling out a fistful of coins. "Is that right?" The agent quickly counted them up. "I need two more."

"Here." Harry deposited two more coins on the counter.

"Perfect." The agent collected the coins, then started entering some information into a computer behind the counter. "Name?"

"Morgan. Travis Morgan."

"And?"

"Um, it's best if people don't know they're here, if you get the drift," Travis supplied. The agent smirked again.

"Mate, whatever you're thinking, just, forget it, or I'll hex you 3 ways from Sunday," Harry hissed, "Merlin's balls!"

"Woah, okay, whatever… look, here's your key… room 609. Go right when you get off the elevator." He tapped the counter with his wand, and a key appeared. "You'll find the room has already been configured for your needs. Have a pleasant stay." He gave the trio an impish smile.

"Fucking idiot," Travis groaned, as the group climbed into the elevator.

"Floor?" asked the attendant.

"6th, please," said Harry.

"That guy's not a representation of our world by any means, John," said Travis.

"Oh, you mean Stan?" asked the attendant, "Let me guess, he made a pass at you."

"Err, no, just…"

"Just leave it, okay?" Travis was clearly uncomfortable with the scenario as it was. The attendant only nodded in understanding, as the elevator made its ascent. "6th floor," he finally announced, as the doors slid open. Harry passed him a galleon, as they exited.

The room was quite nice, and more than easily accommodated the trio. John looked quite impressed. "Let me guess," he said, "More 'magical expansion'."

"Something like that. I mean, I've stayed in 409, and it wasn't this big."

"So they configure the rooms based on what the person staying in it needs?"

"Yeah, I guess," said Travis, as he sat down on the bed nearest the door. He removed his back pack, and pulled out his notebook computer. John also pulled out his notebook, but Travis shook his head. "Wait. Let me do something to it first, or you'll fuck it up."

"Why?"

"Muggle devices don't work too well in a magically saturated place, like this."

"What about this?" John pulled out his cell phone from his pocket.

"What's that?"

"Don't tell me you've not seen a cell phone before," said John.

"No."

"Holy shit, what YEAR you guys from, then?"

"1996."

"Damn. That's fucked up."

"No shit," said Travis, gesturing at John's computer with his wand, and muttering an incantation. The machine was briefly encased in a soft blue glow. "Okay, that should work here now." After casting a similar charm at the phone, he went back to his own computer, while Harry moved to the opposite side of the bed to watch. Travis pulled a small clip out of his back pack, and plugged it into one of the ports on the machine. The end of it lit up, casting a soft blue glow.

"What's that?"

"Internet connection," answered Travis, "Of the magical kind." He pulled out his wallet, and took out his debit card. "Need to make this work here…"

John had known a few computer hackers in his brief lifetime. Yet, none could touch what Travis was able to do. Within minutes, the kid had broken into the Royal Bank's mainframe, and set up an account by the alias he had used to register at the hotel only a few minutes before. He had also set it up to take rounded off figures from all transactions, and deposit them into said account. To top it off, he was able to confound the computer, as he said, so the account wouldn't be noticed by any nosy manager or the like.

"Jesus Christ. That's… holy shit!" John stammered, as Travis finally closed down the number of windows on the screen.

"Money's no object where I come from, no reason not to have it the same here," answered Travis, matter-of-factly.

"Fuck, I'm surprised you don't drive some crazy hot sports car or something like that, you know, look like you…"

"Not for me," Travis laughed, fishing his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He pulled one out. "You mind?"

"No."

"Just bein' polite," said Travis, as he lit his smoke. He took a long drag from it, then said, "No, I like who I am, I'm comfortable with how I look, and if people don't like that, fuck 'em. My teachers hate the way I look, but… really. If I'm payin' 32 thousand dollars tuition, I think I more than have a right to how I look when I go to school."

"Professor McGonagall would have a few words about that, I think."

"Which is why I don't GO to Hogwarts in the first place. I mean, what you told me so far of her, she's a great teacher, but a little strict, I think."

"Right in that one," Harry conceded, "But brilliant transfiguration teacher."

"You guys completely lost me," said John.

"Oh, sorry," Harry answered, giving a goofy grin, "Transfiguration… doing stuff like this…"

"Let me…" said Travis, gesturing to the chair by the window with his wand. It changed into a small table. He gestured again, and it changed back.

"Show off," Harry teased.

"Hey, it IS my favourite subject."

"Is magic… easy?"

"Err… it depends, I guess. On the person… how much will they have, I guess it would be like any subject… some are quite adept at it, then there are others that just… Merlin only knows why they got a wand in the FIRST place."

"It depends on their magical core," Travis added, "Some people are born with really weak magical cores, so no matter how hard they try, they just can't get anywhere. Then you have the opposite end of the extreme… people that… it doesn't matter what they do, they're a prodigy at it. They tend to be the people that change our world."

"So could I…" John began. Harry shook his head sadly. "No, afraid not, mate. You have to be born with a magical core."

"There have been experiments with a few devices over the years… meant more for Squibs than Muggles… I mean, with some interesting results, but nothing concrete," said Travis, "And if there was, I mean, the Department of Mysteries is keeping their mouths shut about it."

"Department of Mysteries?"

"Very secretive part of the Ministry of Magic," Harry explained, "Come to think of it, that's one of the reasons why we ended up here in the first place."

"Hey, it wasn't me that offered that… that… bizarre globe thing in the first place, Harry."

"I'm not pointing fingers, I'm only pointing out… I got that globe in the Department of Mysteries, back in June. John… it showed you… as if it somehow connected to you."

"And when we attempted to use it as a port key, it dropped us here," Travis guessed.

"I should thank you. You saved my life," said John, "The machine had me."

"Then I guess this wasn't a complete fuck up," Travis declared, reaching into his pants pocket, and pulling out the miniaturized terminator. "Tell us about these things."

John only nodded. It was, after all, only fair. In the past hour, he had discovered a world that he never knew existed. How would the machines perceive magic? Could magic make a difference?

"My name isn't really John Baum. It's John Connor. These things…" John again gestured to the miniaturized terminator, "have been sent from the future, to kill me."

"A killer A.I.?" asked Travis.

"Yeah, pretty much. Sometime between now and 2011, a computer named SkyNET will be created. It's meant to be some sort of defence system to protect the U.S. against… well… any kind of military strike. It becomes self-aware, and decides we need to die."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"It sees us as a threat."

"So it causes some sort of… Armageddon?"

"Yeah, exactly. I'm supposed to lead the survivors against the machines. SkyNET sees me as a threat, so it keeps trying to kill me, both now and in the future. So says my uncle. I mean, it sent a machine back to kill my mom before I was born. Rather ironic, my father was sent back to protect my mom from it."

"So you were born because of that? Predestination paradox," Travis mused.

"A what?" both Harry and John asked simultaneously.

"Predestination paradox. A person going back in time to prevent something from happening, actually CAUSES it. If your father hadn't gone back in time, you wouldn't have been born, and this machine you're talking about probably wouldn't have been created."

"But… I was the one who sent my father back in time in the FIRST PLACE! That doesn't make any sense!"

"What you said doesn't make a lot of sense either, mate."

"Harry, this shit don't add up at all. Muggles shouldn't be able to travel through time as it is… I mean, the Ministry of Magic heavily regulates shit like that for us even," Travis pointed out.

"But why… I mean, what would a wizard gain in all this?" asked John.

"It's Voldemort all over again," said Harry, "A wizard that hates Muggles. To have you blow yourselves up would be perfect, at least in his eyes. And if it kills off a large portion of the wizard world… all the better, to shape what's left out of the ashes."

"You mean, I should be looking for a crazy wizard, rather than some smart programmer somewhere."

"Maybe it's both. A wizard and a programmer, both."

"Someone with your skill? Fuck," John cursed.

John awoke to his cell phone ringing. He reached over, and pulled it out of his jacket, which lay across the chair beside the bed. The simple phrase 'MOM' was shown on the screen. He groaned. Only being gone four days, he was still not ready to face his mother, uncle, or Cameron, in any way shape or form. His mother had been calling him all hours of the day since he had left Los Angeles.

"You gonna get that, or just…" Travis moaned, turning over, and covering his head with a pillow.

"Sorry." John let out a groan, then went into the bathroom, switching on the light. "Hello?"

"John?"

"Yeah, it's me." He then muttered the secret code he and his mother had agreed on.

"Do you have any idea…"

"Mom, I don't… just, look… I need…"

"Don't you 'LOOK' me, John Connor! You have any idea…" The voice on the other end shouted. He hung up. He let out another sigh, staring at the face that blinked back at him in the mirror.

The numerous cuts and scratches on his face had started to heal, but the devastating incident on his birthday only four days prior was still etched firmly in the forefront of his mind. Cameron, the terminator assigned to protect him, had somehow gone haywire, reverted to her original programming, and attempted to kill him. Cameron's voice still echoed in his head…

"John. John? You can't do this. You don't know what you're about to do."

"Yes, I do. You were gonna kill me," answered John matter-of-factly, his whole body trembling. He and his mother had pinned Cameron between two heavy trucks, and his mother still had the accelerator pressed to the floor, the engine from the truck roaring in his ears. He fumbled with the screwdriver in his hand, attempting to remove the patch of skin on Cameron's head, which covered the access for her CPU.

"No, John. You can't do this," Cameron pleaded, "You're not doing the right thing. This is not the right thing, John. Things are good now. Things are fine now. I ran a test. Things are good now. I'm fixed now. You can trust me now. Everything's good now." John hesitated for a moment, weighing the machine's words. Could he trust her?

"What are you waiting for?" his mother called. John continued to pry loose the cover for Cameron's CPU, with her pleading all the while, "She doesn't know, she doesn't. I'm good now. I'm good, I ran a test. Everything's perfect. I'm perfect. John! I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry. It wasn't me. You have to understand. It wasn't me. That wasn't me. You can't let this happen, John. You can't! Please, listen to me. Listen to me. I don't want to go. Please, John, please. John, listen to me. I don't want to go. Please, John. Please. I'm good now. Listen to me. I don't want to go. I'm sorry. That wasn't me. I'm fixed now. I ran a test. Everything's perfect. You can trust me." He once again stopped, as the machine's words once again pulled at his emotions.

"John Connor," his mother spoke. Yet, he still hesitated, torn between continuing, and possibly losing an ally. The question again nagged at him: could he trust her?

"I love you! I love you, please. I love you, John, and you love me," said Cameron, making one last pitch to stop John from disabling her. Instead, John removed the chip, silencing Cameron.(1)

SMASH! The mirror exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, the target of John's right hand.

"John? You all right, man?" came Travis' concerned voice outside the door.

"Just… fine," answered John, staring down at the bloodied knuckles on his right hand.

"What happened, mate?" Of course, that had to be Harry.

"Leave me alone." John said, as he pulled a small shard of glass from his hand. 'Cameron… I'll never trust her again,' he vowed silently to himself.

"Look, if you need an ear, mate."

"Just leave…" 'no sense in yelling at him, this ain't his fault,' John thought, then answered, "Thanks, but… I'm fine." The phone began to ring again, the words 'MOM' again showing up on the small screen. Rather than answering it, John only turned off the phone.

Not far from the hotel, three people were huddled around a lap top computer, opened on the hood of a truck.

"Well?"

"He has turned off his cellular phone."

"But he IS close by?"

"We are within two thousand five hundred and seventy one meters of the cellular phone's last known location."

"Then let's just go and drag his ass out of there."

"Derek, that's probably the last thing John needs."

"I will do it."

"What did I just say? Are you sure you're 'functioning properly', or do you need to run another test, there?" Sarah gave Cameron a scathing gaze.

"I am running perfectly," answered Cameron, looking back at the computer screen.

"Let's at least find out exactly where he is," suggested Derek, "Last thing we need is for a T-triple eight to catch up with him." Sarah had to agree with him. "Let's go, then. Cameron, you're driving… you seem to know where we're going."

As dawn broke over the city, Cameron finally stopped the truck on a narrow street just off Spadina Avenue. It was the same street Travis, John, and Harry had arrived at only hours before. Unknowingly, Cameron, Sarah, and Derek were retracing their steps, up to the hotel. Without a wizard to guide them, however, they only saw a run-down building on the opposite side of Kensington Avenue, that looked like it had been abandoned for decades.

Cameron began a scan of the building at once, while at the same time accessing the municipal planning department gaining floor plans. Normally, when doing a cursory scan of a building, she was easily able to match up the physical structure with data from the city planning department. This time, rather than getting a see-through schematic of the building, only snow filled the box, and the words 'INSUFFICIENT DATA' blinked at the bottom of her HUD.

"Well?" Sarah prodded.

"It is… strange," said Cameron, "I am not able to establish a scan of the building."

"So you can't tell if John's in there."

"No. There seems to be… some kind of interference within the structure which I can't identify," Cameron responded.

"Then we wait here," Sarah declared, "I want my son back."

"Let me see your hand," said Travis. John held out his injured hand.

"God, I've done THAT enough times. Episkey." Travis spoke, gesturing with his wand. John's hand felt funny for a moment, but the gashes across the knuckles seemed to vanish before his eyes.

"What about these?" John gestured to the scratches on his face.

"Looks like you had it out with an alley cat, mate," Harry grinned.

"Terminator, more like it."

"Episkey," said Travis, gesturing with his wand at John's face. With that, John's face felt funny for a moment.

"Thanks."

"You guys got everything?" asked Travis. The others nodded. "Great. Let's go eat. There's a great place not far from here that… well, let's just say we're on a first-name basis."

"Um… Travis."

"Shit, right. Still forgetting we're not in the same world."

"They should still exist, though," Harry pointed out. Travis nodded.

"Did you gentlemen have a good stay last night?" asked the agent at the counter. This time, it was an older lady.

"Just great, ma'am," answered Travis, producing the key to the room, "If it's possible, could we retain the room? We're gonna be here for a few days."

"Of course, although we do need a proof of intent to pay."

"Debit card?"

"Perfect," answered the agent. Travis produced his card, and it was quickly ran through the computer. "All right, I can okay you to retain 609 on an extended stay."

"Thank you very much." Travis accepted his card back, and slid it back into his wallet, then put both it and the room key back in his pocket, as the trio crossed the room. Stepping outside, John let out a gasp, spotting three individuals (or, two individuals and one machine) he had no desire to speak to at present.

"John? What's wrong?"

"Them." He gestured toward the other party, who had by then spotted them.

"John!? You stay right there and don't move an inch!" It was the older woman in the party.

"Apparate… please…" John pleaded. Travis only nodded, grabbed both his friends, and they vanished with another noisy CRACK.

"What the hell?!" Derek swore, staring at the spot where John had been only a split second before.

"JOHN!?" Sarah cried, sinking to her knees. She had been within spitting distance, but yet, had lost him again.

Cameron, meanwhile, seemed to be having slight spasms. Her CPU was going in circles, trying to compute and explain exactly what had just happened. Phrases such as DIVIDE ZERO ERROR, INSUFFICIENT DATA, and INVALID DATA kept flashing up at the bottom of her HUD.

"METAL! You alive in there?!" Her head snapped around to face the speaker, Derek. "I do not understand."

"No shit, you're not the only one."

"My boy… he just vanished…" Sarah spoke. Whatever mess John Conner had gotten himself into, it was above and beyond what any of them understood, be it man, woman, or machine.

AUTHOR NOTES: There were so many ways I tossed about for opening this story. In the end, I decided to go with fireworks right off the hop, and deal with the back story after. So yes, very soon, I will take you back & show you how John and Harry arrive at this point in their lives. Obviously this is AU, since neither John nor Harry ever have been, or ever will be, by canon in either universe, in Toronto ON.

Yet, I can argue by canon, both characters, at this point in their lives, can go in several directions. In canon, John decides to measure up to the challenge, take on the mantle he's been saddled with. By the same token, Harry also, albeit grudgingly, accepts the tremendous mantle he's been saddled with.

My angle is this. They both decide to say fk you to their suitors or whatever, at least temporarily, and start looking out for themselves, to perhaps live a little, make their own way of it. By no means are they saying forget it about the job they are assigned, but I think both are taking some time to 'sort things out for themselves'.

I am most definitely open to feedback and suggestions on this, as I always am with anything I post.

(1) Dialogue taken from "Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles", Season 2, episode 1, "Sampson & Delilah". Copyright© 2008. Warner Bros & C2 Pictures. All rights reserved.