Chapter 1: 1
Chapter Text
A bright light.
Blinding pain.
The deafening sound of thunder.
It seemed to go on forever.
Maybe he was dying.
Maybe humans weren’t meant to go through. That thing was designed for the machines, after all.
Maybe his desperate mission had failed before it had even begun. In which case, humanity was doomed.
Kyle’s train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted by his naked body hitting the ground, hard. Curled up in the foetal position, half dazed and disoriented, he could smell the acrid smell of smoke and wondered if his skin was on fire. It certainly felt like it. He remembered that sensation all too vividly.
He tried to move, and let out a groan, fighting against his nausea and the stiffness in his muscles. He had to get moving. Time was against him. The enemy had gone through first, and he – or rather it - unlike him, wasn’t going to be slowed down by pain or fatigue. He pushed himself upwards on his hands and knees, and raised his head to take in his bearings.
It was dark - night. He was in the middle of an alley, and luckily for him, it was deserted. No doubt some guy suddenly appearing out of nowhere, stark naked, would attract a lot of unwanted attention.
He managed to stand up, somehow, and he started to run, or rather to trot, trying to make a mental list of what to do.
First, get some clothes.
Find out where, and most importantly when he had landed.
Find a weapon.
Find her.
“Hey buddy, did you just see a real bright light ?”
He stopped and looked down at the man sitting on the ground in front of him. He looked so much like the people from his time that for a brief moment he wondered if there hadn’t been a huge miscalculation in his destination. Wasn’t the past supposed to be some kind of paradise, where people lived in plenty and comfort ? Apparently not everyone. He didn’t feel too great about stealing from the needy, and judging by his smell and his looks, this guy’s clothes were likely to be crawling with fleas. But he couldn’t afford to be picky. He wouldn’t go far without at least a pair of pants. Which is all he had the time to slip into before a police car appeared at the end of the alley, the light of a torch blinding him.
“Hold it right there !”
He ran away from the car, away from the light. Thankfully, he had mostly recovered from the crossing by now, and his legs were working properly again. But the cop carrying the torchlight was running after him, and suddenly the car appeared again, siren blaring, to cut his retreat. He slipped into a side alley to escape them both, narrowly avoiding another car. And his pursuant was still tailing him.
This was no good. He’d been there less than five minutes and he was already getting sidetracked, being chased by humans while he should be carrying out his mission. But there was a way to turn this around and to get something useful out of it.
At the first opportunity, he hid, and when the other one stopped, wondering where he went, he jumped him. His opponent was armed, but he had no trouble neutralizing him and taking his gun. Even though he was law enforcement, his training was far from being a match to his own. These people were way too soft. Tragically unprepared for the fate that awaited mankind.
Holding him at gunpoint, he barked :
“What day is it? The date!”
Surprised by his question, the cop stuttered.
“12th… may… Thursday!”
“What year?” he demanded impatiently, which struck the cop with even greater confusion, rendering him mute.
There was no time. The cop car had reappeared, all blue and red lights, maneuvering slowly but steadily in the narrow alley littered with trash.
He ran again, only to be faced with yet another cop car.
This was getting tiresome.
He found a metal door, forced it open, and disappeared inside a building.
“He’s got my gun. Let’s go!” he heard the first cop say to his teammates.
He had no idea where he was going, but he kept moving. Eventually he found himself in a big space that was… just... full of stuff. Tables overflowing with shirts. Racks full of clothes of every size, every shape, every color. Rows upon rows of merchandise, going on endlessly. He knew what that place was: a store. Obviously he’d never seen one before, only heard about it. He felt curious, but he didn’t have time to explore. The cops had followed him in here, their torch lights flooding the place.
They weren’t going to find him, though. He was used to lay low, to hide in his environment. Compared to running from the H-Ks, this was child’s play. Silent like a cat on the prowl, he kept moving, staying close to the ground, and as he went he started shopping. A trench coat here, a pair of sneakers there. It was almost funny, how he managed to get away with it right under their noses, while they kept searching for him, none the wiser. They might as well have been blind.
But he didn’t come here to play around. He got what he needed from this place, he was clothed and armed, and now it was time to move on. He made for a glass door that led directly outside, but of course a cop car appeared in front of it just as he was about to get out. He was quickly learning to loathe the sound of the sirens and the sight of the flashing lights. He turned tail and ran up an escalator instead. By the time anyone had noticed anything (or not), he’d reached a fire exit, and landed right behind the car parked outside. There was no one inside it, and the opportunity was too good to let it go to waste. The little gun currently in his possession was good enough to scare humans, but it wouldn’t do shit against a Terminator. So he carefully opened the front door and picked up the riot gun that a negligent cop had left there.
That would still not be enough to stop the Terminator, but at least it would slow it down, maybe even damage it a little, so it was definitely an upgrade.
After a bit, he reached a street that was well-lit, wide, full of people. He quickly concealed the shotgun under his coat before anyone could notice it. He tightened the coat around him, turned up the collar to hide his face. He forced himself to walk casually even as he heard a siren blaring.
As soon as he saw a phone booth, he ran to it. He picked the phone book, quickly turned the pages until he found her.
Connor Sarah
Connor Sarah Ann
Connor Sarah J
Kyle had only two advantages over the Terminator, but they were significant. Unlike it, he knew her full name : Sarah Jeanette Connor. And he knew her face. The Terminator would likely target the two first Sarah Connors listed here before it moved on to terminate the only one that mattered. That left him a short respite to get ready for the confrontation.
He ripped off the page with her address, and took it with him.
He spent the next hours preparing.
He scavenged some food in a trashcan (unbelievable, the stuff these people will just throw away), and broke into an armory to procure some ammo.
He sawed off the stock of the shotgun and attached it to his shoulder with some rope so he could move around easily without attracting attention, while hiding it under his coat. The rope was just the perfect length for him to draw it with ease. That way he would be able to react quickly the moment he found the Terminator.
Finally he got himself a ride, a car parked next to a construction site. He hot-wired it, and when the engine started, music suddenly blasted out of the radio. Music was a rare pleasure where he came from, so he allowed himself to enjoy it for a bit.
By then, exhaustion had started to catch up with him. How long had it been since he’d had some rest ? Lulled by the music, the comfortable seat and the moving lights of the construction engines, he dozed off.
The construction engine has turned into a tank. Under its tracks, the ground is covered in human skulls and bones, that it crushes mercilessly under its weight with a sickening sound.
Kyle can hear the dreaded blast of laser guns and the piercing screams of metal. The H-Ks are out. With a tap on her arm, he draws Gina’s attention. The tank is their target. Together, moving as one, they silently crawl among the ruins, hide from the drones, always keeping the tank in sight. When they get close enough, he throws the first explosive. As Gina throws the second one, the tank spots her, and retaliation is immediate, unforgiving. In a microsecond, there is nothing left of her but ashes.
He closes his eyes in horror, but there is no time to mourn his fallen comrade, lest he join her in oblivion.
The tank finally explodes, and he runs to avoid getting buried under the flaming debris. He gets into a moving car, takes the wheel as the other soldier trades places to fire at the drone above them: they both know the drill, and talk is unnecessary. He drives as fast as the terrain will allow, until a blast sends the car flying. It lands on its side, crushed against the old carcass of a truck, and Kyle is trapped, his way out blocked by the truck. His new partner is already dead, and they haven’t exchanged a single word. He doesn’t even know his name. But he isn’t thinking about that. His only thought is to get out of this coffin of metal, while the flames are rising, licking at him, melting his clothes into his skin, slowly burning him alive.
He screams in agony.
He woke up with a start, covered in cold sweat. Hearing the sounds of machinery, he instinctively pumped his shotgun, ready to shoot at the enemy.
But there was no enemy here. The only machines were the construction engines, still at work even though night had already fallen.
He’d slept too long. He turned off the radio and drove away.
He needed to find her.
When he reached her apartment complex, there was no sign that the Terminator had been there yet, but it probably wouldn’t be long now until it came for her.
At that moment, Kyle would be there, ready for it.
He found a good spot to stand watch, hidden in the shadows by the bushes outside of the building. He had her front door well in view, as well as her balcony windows.
He waited for about an hour before he saw a man walk to her door. Tall, muscular. He gripped his weapon, the hair on the back of his neck standing to attention. Just as the man reached the doorstep, the door opened, and she appeared. It was dark, her face was turned away and her hair was a little different, but Kyle would recognize that golden mane anywhere: it was her. His finger twitched on the trigger when she bumped into the guy and jumped in surprise, but it became quickly evident that this wasn’t the Terminator. In fact, it looked like she knew him very well. When he gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek and she burst out laughing, Kyle looked away in discomfort, feeling like he was invading the couple’s privacy, watching things that he wasn’t supposed to see. Was this man the future father of John Connor ?
Maybe not. Instead of accompanying her, he went inside, while she was headed for the parking lot.
If she was going out, then he needed to follow her.
He got into his car and followed her moped through the streets of Los Angeles, driving far enough behind her that she wouldn’t notice him. Spooking her wouldn’t do any good.
She stopped at Pico Boulevard, and went to a movie theater to buy a ticket. Then, instead of going in, she went to a small restaurant across the street. He waited outside. She only stayed in there for about 20 minutes before she came out again, much more tense than she had been until now. Did something happen? The Terminator hadn’t reached her yet, that much he was sure of. Did she learn about the other killings? Did she figure out that she would be targeted next? That must be it. As she walked down the street, she kept looking over her shoulder, as if she knew she was being followed. For a brief moment, her eyes fell on him. She stared at him fearfully and quickly looked away, walking faster.
So much for not spooking her.
He followed suit, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible every time she looked back to check if he was still there.
She disappeared into a club. He pretended to walk past it, knowing exactly what she was trying to do. He gave her a few seconds before he retraced his steps to follow her inside.
He could only applaud her for her caution. Staying in a random public place was the smart thing to do. Or it would be, if the threat was merely human. Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t going to help against a Terminator. It would find her, eventually. That’s what it was programmed to do. And no crowd would stop it. It didn’t care about witnesses.
She spent a long time on the phone at the back of the club, obviously distressed, before she settled at the nearest table, waiting.
He was waiting too, his hand on his weapon, sitting at the bar. Even though he had his back on her, he could still watch her reflection in the mirror in front of him. Whoever she’d spoken to, if she’d told them where she was it was only a matter of time before the Terminator found out. And then it would come here to kill her.
She kept glancing nervously at her watch, and looking around at the crowd of patrons, evidently hoping for someone to show up. Possibly that guy from earlier. Or the police. Kyle was scanning the crowd too, on the lookout for someone with a very specific build. Terminators were tall, heavy, muscular. They had to be, to cover their armored endoskeleton. Even in a crowd as thick as this one, a Terminator should be noticeable. But of course he couldn’t identify it for sure until it made its move.
There was one person here that seemed to fit the profile : dressed in a studded leather jacket, he was walking slowly among the crowd, looking around as if searching for someone. Kyle tensed when the man looked in Sarah’s direction, but then he moved away. Another false alarm ? The tall guy disappeared out of view, swallowed by the crowd, and Kyle checked on Sarah through the mirror. His heart almost stopped. She was staring directly at him, her intense gaze such a dead ringer to John’s it was uncanny. Their eyes locked only for a split second before she broke eye contact, clearly scared of him.
He looked away too, shaken to his core.
That’s when he saw it.
The tall guy in the leather jacket was coming back. He was splitting the crowd of dancers, coming at her in a straight line, his face completely closed off, unreadable. It was him.
Kyle barely had the time to draw his weapon before a gun appeared in the other one’s hands.
Chapter 2: 2
Chapter Text
Sarah was staring at the Terminator, petrified, a red laser dot on her forehead. Kyle pushed the bystanders out of the way to have a clear shot, and he put one, two, three, four, five bullets into the Terminator’s body before it fell to the ground.
All hell broke loose in the club. People were screaming and running towards the entrance, getting in Kyle’s way. Sarah had fallen to the floor, and he saw her quickly get back on her feet and run away from the Terminator. It wasn’t a second too soon either, because it was already getting back up. But it didn’t go directly after her. It seemed to have decided to get rid of Kyle’s interference first. It raised its automatic gun, and showered the bar with a rain of bullets. Kyle dived behind the counter for safety, and only managed to shoot back once before the Terminator fired another long burst at the bar, forcing him to take cover again. The Terminator had already lost interest in him, and was moving away, gun drawn, after Sarah. She hadn’t made it far in the panicked crowd, and he shot at her. Another woman, standing behind her, took the bullets instead, and fell heavily on her.
Kyle moved to a better spot, which had the benefit of distracting the Terminator for a few seconds. But Sarah was still pinned to the ground under the other woman’s body, struggling clumsily to free herself while the Terminator was once again advancing on her. Kyle jumped behind him, and he shot him again, relentlessly, moving forward after every shot, forcing the Terminator to withdraw until it fell through the front window of the club. It ended up sprawled on the sidewalk and covered in glass, temporarily out of commission.
That wouldn’t last long. Kyle crouched down to take Sarah’s arm, his eyes fixed on the Terminator.
He wasn’t one for big speeches. He was just a soldier after all, not a charismatic leader. He was happy to leave that kind of stuff to people like John Connor. So he kept it simple and to the point:
“Come with me if you wanna live.”
She barely registered. She was staring at the Terminator, her eyes wide with terror. It was moving again, and in a second it would be up again, ready to kill her, again. Kyle quickly pushed away the dead body that was still weighing on her legs, then yelled at her to shake her awake :
“COME ON!”
That seemed to work. With a shudder, she got up and started to run in the opposite direction from the Terminator. Kyle was close behind her, covering her back. They reached a back door, and he directed her towards his car. The Terminator was on their heels. Sarah was already out of breath, too slow, and he unceremoniously grabbed her by her jacket to drag her forward. They needed to make it to the car before the Terminator caught up with them. Finally they reached it, but their pursuant was too close for comfort. Kyle dropped Sarah on the floor, opened the front door to shield them both, and shot at the gas tank of another car, parked between them and the Terminator. The ensuing explosion would slow him down a bit, hopefully long enough for them to drive out of dodge.
He pushed Sarah on the passenger seat, and she offered no resistance. He moved past her to reach the driver’s seat and started the car. But just as they were starting to move, the Terminator reappeared, flying through the air to land on the hood, eyebrows and hair burnt off.
Sarah was wheezing next to him, completely lost to panic. The Terminator’s fist went right through the windshield, reaching for her throat, while she did her best to draw back, plastering herself against the back of her seat. Kyle tried to focus on the driving, hoping to shake him off before he could get a hold on her. He managed it as soon as they reached Pico Boulevard. He hit a parked car from the side, and the Terminator was sent rolling to the ground. Kyle drove away as fast as the car would go.
“Hold on”, he warned her as he took an abrupt turn and started slaloming between the cars, fast as a devil.
She had fallen completely silent now, and she wasn’t moving at all, except for her chest rapidly rising and falling. He couldn’t see her face, turned away from him. He was starting to feel uneasy. Maybe she was just in shock. But she could also be injured.
“Are you injured? Are you shot?!” he asked her in concern.
Receiving no answer, he reached for her, intending to check for traces of a gunshot wound. She finally reacted, violently pushing his hand away. With a scream of blind panic, she started to reach for the door handle. Did she intend to jump out of the car while it was moving at that speed?? She’d completely lost it.
He couldn’t have any of that. Keeping her alive was going to be hard enough with a Terminator after her. If she was also going to act like a lunatic, they would never make it. Before she had a chance to open the door, he pinned her back against her seat, his arm across her chest to prevent any further attempt to escape.
“Do exactly as I say”, he ordered. “Exactly. Don’t move unless I say. Don’t make a sound unless I say. Do you understand?”
She gave him no answer, no reaction whatsoever. This behavior was getting on his nerves real fast.
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” he barked at her, and at last she talked.
“Yes! YES! Please, don’t hurt me.”
She was scared out of her mind. That, he could understand. She had every reason to be. But she was scared of him, still. That stung. Didn’t she realize that he just saved her life back there?
“I’m here to help you”, he explained. “I’m Reese. Sergeant Tech-Com. DN38416. Assigned to protect you. You’ve been targeted for termination.”
He vaguely hoped that the formal military lingo would reassure her that he was here in an official capacity, and that he wasn’t some kind of dangerous maniac.
“This is a mistake. I didn’t do anything!”
It seemed she’d finally snapped out of it. Good.
“No, but you will. It’s very important that you live.”
That was the understatement of the century.
“This isn’t true. How could that man just get up after you…”
“It’s not a man”, he corrected her. “A machine. A Terminator. Cyberdyne Systems model 101.”
“A machine?” she repeated, incredulous. “Like a robot?”
“Not a robot. A cyborg – cybernetic organism.”
“No. He was bleeding.”
“Just a second”, he said as a police car was catching up with them.
Those guys really had a nag for showing up when you needed them the least.
The cop was holding a bright light straight at them. Was he trying to identify them? If the Terminator was hooked into their coms, it would be able to use all of their information to track her. Exploiting the resources of the police was something Skynet was likely to do. He wasn’t taking any chances.
“Get your head down!” he ordered her, and he reached for the back of her head, pushing her down. He hit the cop’s car with his own, hard enough to send it crashing into a taxi parked on the side of the road. But that wasn’t enough. There was a second cop car behind him, and he got into the side alleys to distance it. When that didn’t work, he stopped abruptly, and the cop car, taken by surprise, stopped right behind him. As the driver lost control, the police cruiser skidded to a halt across the street. For good measure, Kyle moved in reverse to crash the rear of his car into it, then drove away. That should calm them down for a bit.
The whole area was going to be swarming with more cops very soon. The car was spotted, and they wouldn’t have any peace until they traded it for another one. With that in mind, he got into a parking garage.
Beside him, Sarah had fallen back into silence for a while. Her face had turned slightly green ever since his little brush with the cops. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Alright, listen. The Terminator’s an infiltration unit. Part man, part machine. Underneath it’s a hyper-alloy combat chassis. Microprocessor controlled. Fully armored, very tough. Outside it’s living human tissue. Flesh, skin, hair, blood – grown for the cyborgs.”
“Look, Reese, I don’t know what you want from me…”, she protested.
“Pay attention!” he interrupted her.
What he wanted was for her to understand the gravity of what was happening. He wanted her to understand that she was in mortal danger, and that her only chance of survival was to stick with him and to follow everything he said, without question or hesitation. He needed her to trust him.
“I gotta ditch this car”, he informed her, parking it and cutting the engine.
Then he turned to her and resumed the crash course, to her visible despair:
“The 600-Series had rubber skin. We spotted them easy. But these are new. They look human. Sweat, bad breath, everything. Very hard to spot.”
He saw the ghost of a smile and an eyeroll. She obviously didn’t believe a word of what he was saying, but at least she didn’t look like she was scared of him anymore, which he supposed was progress. Still, he needed her to take him seriously. He needed to convince her that all of it was real. Her survival depended on it. The fate of the world depended on it.
“I had to wait till he moved on you before I could zero him”, he insisted.
At this point she just looked annoyed.
“Look, I am not stupid you know”, she articulated through gritted teeth. “They cannot make things like that yet.”
“Not yet”, he agreed. “Not for about forty years.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“Are you saying it’s from the future?!” she practically laughed at him.
“One possible future… from your point of view. I don’t know tech stuff.”
He was all too aware that he was making a poor job of convincing her. It was so frustrating. And he couldn’t really fault her for not believing him. To a person from her time, all of it must sound completely insane.
“Then you’re from the future too, is that right?” she asked, her tone suspiciously sweet.
“Right”, he said slowly, staring at her.
He knew exactly what she was thinking, and she didn’t disappoint his expectations.
“Right”, she repeated, and she made for the door handle again, ready to run for it.
But he wouldn’t let her. He couldn’t. He held her back and pinned her to her seat again, keeping her in place as she struggled. He knew he was being too rough with her, but what else could he do? Letting her run away from him wasn’t an option. If he couldn’t get her to trust him, if he couldn’t convince her that the Terminator was real, then he had no other choice but to use force.
Unable to break free from his grip, she bit his hand, drawing blood.
As gently as he could, as if he was dealing with a feral kitten, he took his hand back from her, shifting his hold on her to her wrists, spread wide apart and as far away from her teeth as possible.
“Cyborgs don’t feel pain. I do. Don’t do that again”, he warned her.
“Just let me go”, she begged him.
Shit. This was going nowhere. And they didn’t exactly have the luxury of time, here.
“Listen and understand”, he pressed her, desperate. “That Terminator is out there. It can’t be bargained with, it can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead.”
That, at last, got through to her. Even if she didn’t believe him about the cyborgs or time travel, at least she’d seen the Terminator, and she couldn’t deny what she’d witnessed with her own eyes. She’d seen it get shot repeatedly and rise again. She’d seen its dead eyes devoid of emotion or empathy. She knew that it was unstoppable and that it wanted her dead.
She let out a shaky breath, her eyes filling with despair as the full meaning of his words was hitting her. Then she looked up at him, imploring.
“Can you stop it?” she asked, suddenly so vulnerable, so defeated, so ready to put her life in his hands that it hurt to look at her.
Could he stop it ? He wished he could give her words of comfort, but he didn’t want to deceive her. He owed her the truth. And the truth was, he was completely out of his depth, stranded alone in a world that wasn’t his own and that he hardly understood anything about, with no proper equipment and no proper weapons.
“I don’t know”, he sighed. “With these weapons… I don’t know.”
He was almost relieved by the interruption when two patrol cars appeared at the entrance of the parking garage, giving him an excuse to cut it short. They discreetly got out of the compromised car, staying low so they wouldn’t be seen. It didn’t take him long to find another car to steal, and they got in, keeping their heads down while they waited for the way to clear.
It seemed she’d really decided to trust him. During all this, she’d followed his lead without difficulty, never making any attempt to give him the slip or to attract the cops’ attention.
“Reese… why me? Why does it want me?” she whispered while he was fishing for his last ammo in the pocket of his coat to reload his gun.
He took a deep breath, wondering how to answer. Where did he even start? If she didn’t believe he came from the future, they weren’t off to a great start for this conversation.
But whether she believed him or not, she had every right to know. In fact, she needed to know.
“There was a nuclear war”, he began. “A few years from now, all this, this whole place, everything, it’s gone… just gone. There were survivors. Here, there. Nobody even knew who started it. It was the machines, Sarah.”
“I don’t understand…”
There was no trace of mockery or skepticism in her eyes this time.
“Defense network computers”, he explained. “New, powerful, hooked into everything, trusted to run it all. They say it got smart… a new order of intelligence. Then it saw all people as a threat. Not just the ones on the other side. It decided our fate in a microsecond. Extermination.”
“Did you see this war?”
He was done reloading now. He’d barely gotten started on the car when one of the patrol cruisers passed right behind them, forcing him to stop. They both sank deeper into their seats.
“No. I grew up after. In the ruins. Starving. Hiding from the H-Ks.”
“H-Ks?”
“Hunter-Killers”, he translated. “Patrol machines built in automated factories. Most of us were rounded up. Put in camps for orderly disposal. This was burned in by laser scanner”, he said, pushing up the sleeve of his coat to show her the bar code that would remain carved in his flesh for the rest of his life.
Eyebrows furrowed, she gently reached for his arm, turning it towards her to examine it. One more material proof for her to chew on.
“Some of us were kept alive. To work.”
His voice broke on the word, as flashes of said ‘work’ came back to him.
“Loading bodies”, he grimaced.
Her face was so close to his now, and she was taking it all in, listening in growing horror, her eyes – John Connor’s eyes – boring into his very soul as if she could see the memories that haunted him. It was unnerving.
“The disposal units ran night and day. We were that close to going out forever. But there was one man who taught us to fight. To storm the wire of the camps. To smash those metal motherfuckers into junk”, he said with heated passion.
“He turned it around. He brought us back from the brink. His name was Connor. John Connor. Your son, Sarah. Your unborn son.”
The patrol unit was gone, and he resumed his work to start the car. While he was busy with that, Sarah didn’t ask any more questions, and he left her to her thoughts. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what must be going through her head right now.
The moment he started the car, a bullet smashed the rear window. Followed by another in the trunk. And another.
The Terminator had found them.
Time to scram.
Wheels screeching, Kyle drove away. The Terminator was following them closely, driving a police cruiser. He kept shooting at them, and Kyle answered in kind while Sarah was staying low. That dance kept going as they reached the road. None of Kyle’s attempts to shake him off were working. Unlike the police, the Terminator was driven by a single objective, with no care for anything else, not even self-preservation. The only way to get rid of it was to incapacitate it. Which was hard to do while you had to focus both on the driving and the shooting.
“Drive!” Kyle yelled at Sarah, and he immediately trusted the wheel to her, forgetting in the heat of the battle that he wasn’t addressing a fellow soldier, but a girl who had only ever known a sheltered life and had yet to become the legendary warrior he’d heard so many tales about. To her credit, she did as she was told without faltering. Not that she had much choice in the matter, if she didn’t want them to crash and die.
Without a backward glance, he hoisted himself out the window to have a better shot. He managed to get at least one bullet in the fucker’s face and another one in its arm, before Sarah’s voice screaming his name drew his attention on the solid concrete wall ahead, that they were about to crash into at high speed. He barely had the time to get himself back into the car so he wouldn’t get sawed in half when she braked. Unlike them, the Terminator’s car crashed right into the wall. The cyborg remained motionless in the front seat of the fuming car, visibly damaged but not destroyed. It was a matter of seconds before it started moving again. Without a working car, it wouldn’t be able to follow them if they made a quick escape. But that was without counting the swarm of police cars closing in on them, blocking their exit, and the brake lever that remained stuck in place despite Kyle’s frenetic efforts to restart the car.
They had to move. They couldn’t stay here like sitting ducks, waiting for the Terminator to wake up and finish the job. He had to get Sarah out of here, now, one way or another. Heart pounding, pure adrenaline coursing through his veins, he grabbed the shotgun and opened the door.
“No Reese! No! No! No!” Sarah yelled, holding on to his arm with surprising strength to keep him inside and make him drop the weapon. Her tone was urgent, almost commanding. He looked at her, not comprehending. What was she doing? Was she turning on him?
“They’ll kill you”, she told him with finality.
He stared at her, dumbstruck.
He’d forgotten. Wrapped up in the fever of the chase, he’d completely forgotten that this wasn’t his world anymore.
“You in the Cadillac, let me see your hands, now!” ordered one of the cops holding them at gun point.
There was no choice. He let go of the shotgun and raised his hands.
“Get out of the car!”
Those useless morons , he fumed inwardly , always getting in the way instead of helping…
Reluctantly, he complied.
“Drop to your knees!”
What a fucking waste of time...
Behind him, another officer was taking Sarah out of the car. There was a sound like metal hitting concrete, and his eyes shot back at the wrecked police cruiser. It was empty. There was no sign of the Terminator. It had retreated, and Sarah was safe. For now.
They cuffed him and took him into one of the cars, while Sarah was taken into another.
Chapter 3: 3
Chapter Text
He sat in that tiny room for what felt like hours, hands cuffed behind his back.
In front of him, the wall was a one-way mirror. There was a camera in the left upper corner.
They’d taken away his coat, bandaged his hand where Sarah had bitten him. Asked him questions that he answered with contemptuous silence at first. What was the point? It wasn’t like they were going to believe him anyway.
But then it occurred to him that every second wasted here was bringing them closer to the Terminator’s next attack. And this was most likely the first place it would come to look for her. Was she still here? Was she safe? He needed to warn her. He needed to take her away from here.
He asked after her. He asked to see her. Of course they refused to tell him anything, much less let him see her.
Would they be more amenable if he played along in their little farce? They clearly had no intention of releasing him, but if he talked to them, would they repeat to her what he said? If they knew what kind of threat they were dealing with, would they be able to protect her? Hide her? Maybe it was worth a shot. For now it was all he could do anyway.
So he started talking, and eventually they brought a civilian in the room. A doctor Silberman. Kyle could easily guess it wasn’t the kind of doctor that patched you up. It was the kind that you were sent to when you’d seen too much shit and you couldn’t handle it anymore. It was the kind that liked to pick at your brain and fill you up with drugs until you could do nothing but sleep.
Fine. Whatever.
The interrogation started again, and it dragged on endlessly. The doctor kept getting stuck on meaningless details: dates, names, places, pieces of technology… none of it relevant to the most pressing issue: Sarah’s safety.
“So you’re a soldier. Fighting for whom?” Silberman asked, his voice jaded.
They must have been at it for at least an hour at this point.
“With the 132nd under Perry. From ‘21 to ‘27’, Kyle answered with all the patience he could muster, which was running short.
“That’s the year 2027?”
“That’s right. Then I was assigned Recon / Security, last two years, under John Connor.”
“Who was the enemy?”
“A computer defence system built for…”
A bipping thing on Silberman’s belt interrupted him, and Kyle had to swallow back his exasperation while the doctor mumbled an apology, turning off his gizmo.
“…built for SAC-NORAD by Cyberdyne Systems”, he finished, almost screaming in his frustration.
“I see”, Silberman said nonchalantly, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray.
He came closer to Kyle, sitting on the side of the table, looking down on him and exchanging knowing looks with the cop present in the room as he continued:
“And this computer thinks it can win by killing the mother of its enemy. Killing him, in effect, before he’s even conceived. A sort of… retroactive abortion?”
Now he’d settled down on the chair next to Kyle’s, watching him with a mock-serious expression, his hands clasped in front of him, waiting for his reaction.
This guy was just fucking with him. It was all so pointless… he should have known.
“Yes”, he answered nonetheless.
He had to hope that someone else was listening. Someone who would do what it takes to protect Sarah.
“Why didn’t the computer just kill Connor then? Why this elaborate scheme with the Terminator?”
“It had no choice. Their defence grid was smashed. We’d won. Taking out Connor then would make no difference. Skynet had to wipe out his entire existence.”
“Is that when you captured the lab complex and found that, huh… What is it called...” Silberman said, checking his notes, “the ‘time displacement equipment’?”
“That’s right. The Terminator had already gone through. Connor sent me to intercept and they blew the whole place.”
“Well, how are you supposed to get back?” Silberman asked, feigning sympathy.
“I can’t. Nobody goes home. Nobody else comes through. It’s just him and me”, Kyle said, staring him down.
For whatever reason, at that moment Silberman decided to stop looking at him, and absorbed himself in his notes instead.
“Why didn’t you bring any weapons? Something more advanced. Don’t you have… ray guns? Show me a piece of future technology.”
“You go naked. Something about the field generated by a living organism. Nothing dead will go.”
“Why?”
How the hell was he supposed to know that? He was a soldier, not an engineer!
“I didn’t build the fucking thing!”he snapped.
“Ok, ok”, Silberman said as if he was placating a petulant child. “But this cyborg… if it’s metal…?”
“Surrounded by living tissue!” Kyle reminded him.
Why bother to ask him questions if they didn’t even care to remember the answers?
“Oh, right… Why were the other two women killed?”
“Most of records were lost in the war. Skynet knew almost nothing about Connor’s mother. Her full name, where she lived. They just knew the city. The Terminator was just being systematic.”
“Huhuh”, Silberman said with clear disinterest. “Well let’s go back to one other thing you…”
No. No more. He couldn’t take anymore of this bullshit.
“Look, you have heard enough. I have answered your questions. Now I have to see Sarah Connor!” he demanded with the last bit of composure he had left.
“I’m afraid that’s not up to me”, Silberman retorted.
“Then why am I talking to you?” Kyle said savagely, feeling more feral by the second.
“Because I can help…”
“Who is in authority here?”
“Please…”
“SHUT UP!” Kyle shouted at him, and looked up directly at the camera, addressing whoever was watching:
“You still don’t get it, do you? He’ll find her. That’s what he does! That’s all he does! You can’t stop him! He’ll wade through you, reach down her throat, and pull her fucking heart out!”
He didn’t even realize he’d stood up from his chair until he felt the arms of the cop around him, forcing him back down.
“Let go of me!” he screamed, struggling furiously to break free.
Silberman had already scampered out of the room, while more cops were coming in to subdue him.
He couldn’t fight them all at once, not with his hands tied behind his back. Eventually he ended up pinned to the floor by four pairs of arms. He stopped moving, exhausted and demoralized.
Once they were confident that his little outburst was over, the cops put him back on the chair and left the room, leaving only one to watch him.
Seconds, minutes ticked by. He remained stuck in the room, eyeing the door, the cop, the keys and the baton at his belt. Only one left… He didn’t look like he would be too hard to overpower, if he took him by surprise. But admitting that he managed to knock him out and free himself of his cuffs, he probably wouldn’t be able to make three steps out of the room before the others pounced on him, or shot him down. And he had no idea where Sarah was… if she even was in the building.
Suddenly there was a commotion that made the whole place shake. Sounds on gunshots. Shouting. Absolute chaos.
Kyle went rigid. The Terminator was back.
The cop was getting nervous, pacing the room, casting glances at the door as if he was itching to leave and find out what was happening. Kyle was watching him intently, following every movement.
The power went out. Emergency lights took over, and the cop finally opened the door. He had his back on him. In the hallway, another cop ran by, and Kyle stayed very still, his entire body on high alert. Vukovitch, that was his name. One of the first two who’d interrogated him, an arrogant, derisive smile plastered on his face every time Kyle had opened his mouth. The memory made his blood boil. So useless, the whole lot of them…
Well, he wasn’t smiling now.
“Watch him!” Vukovitch ordered the other cop, pointing at Kyle, and he took off towards the sounds of gunfire.
Kyle wasn’t going to miss that opportunity. Quick as lightning, he leapt from his chair and lunged at the cop as he was closing the door, his back still turned. He smashed him against the wall with his shoulder, then kneed him in the belly, and knocked him out as he hunched over in pain. The guy fell to the ground and Kyle crouched down, searching his keys with his cuffed hands.
While he was freeing his hands, his eyes fell on the navy blue coat that, in his hurry to leave, Silberman had forgotten behind. A simple layer of fabric hardly qualified as body armor, but it was still better than going into a shootout with nothing but a tee-shirt on his back. He put on the coat, and then he went through the door, stepping into hell.
There was smoke and fire everywhere. Bodies lying around. Shouted orders, screams of pain. In the dark, shots were fired in every direction.
A spectacle all too familiar.
Kyle stayed low, searching every door as he progressed along the hallways. If Sarah was still here, he needed to find her first.
Eventually he found a door that, unlike the previous ones, was locked. Was she hiding in there? With his elbow, he smashed the glass panel and reached through to turn the lock. He rushed inside, quickly scanning the dark room. A couch, a desk covered in paperwork… the quiet office looked empty. He went into the adjacent room, calling for her, but that one was just as empty as the first. He turned around, ready to go back into the hallway to move on to the next door, when he heard her voice. A sound of pure relief.
“Reese!”
He froze and looked back, to see her emerge from under the desk. He leaned forward to help her up, and looked her over to check for injuries, but she was perfectly fine, untouched by the rampage outside.
A miracle.
But there was no time to daydream. They still had to get out of there before the Terminator found her. Taking her hand, he led her away from the carnage, through the labyrinth of hallways, in search of a way out.
“Reese!”
He turned around at the sound. The cop who’d just called his name was lying against an open door. Injured. Shot square in the chest. Sarah knelt down beside him, still holding Kyle’s hand.
Traxler. Lieutenant Traxler. Vukovitch’s partner. He was the only one who hadn’t looked at him like he was some kind of amusing freak. At times, he’d even looked like doubt was creeping, like he almost believed him.
He spoke with difficulty, his breath ragged. It didn’t look like he had long left.
“She’s got… to stay alive, so… here”, he said, handing him his gun, and a set of car keys. “Do whatever you have to… do…”
Kyle reached for the gun and the keys, and a silent exchange passed between them. Words were unnecessary, and time was of the essence. He rose to his feet and dragged Sarah away.
When they reached the parking lot, he found the car that bore the same logo as Traxler’s key: a distinctive little character with pointy ears. They got inside and he started the car just in time before the imposing silhouette of the Terminator appeared in a blaze of fire, shooting at them until they were out of range.
They left the city, then he drove straight ahead in a random direction, intending to put as many miles as possible between them and the Terminator. Beside him, Sarah turned on the radio to follow the news, biting her nails nervously as the commentators spoke of the attack at the station. A massive manhunt was underway. They were hunting for the Terminator, but they would be looking for them as well. One more reason to stay off the grid.
“I’m worried about my mom”, she blurted out. “She was supposed to come get me at the station, and now… I have to check on her, and let her know that I’m okay.”
“No”, he said curtly.
“E-Excuse-me??” she glowered at him, shocked by his abrupt refusal.
He clarified:
“You can’t tell anyone where you are. You can’t make contact with anyone you know. It’s too dangerous. That’s how the Terminator can track you down.”
“You mean he’s gonna go after my mom?!” she stared at him, horrified.
“It’s possible.”
More like inevitable, but it was probably better not to tell her that. He didn’t want her to get more upset than she already was.
“Well now I definitely need to call her! I have to warn her, at least!”
He clenched his jaw. He was being way too soft with her. He should just tell her that her mother was as good as dead and that there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing good would come out of this, he just knew it.
“Warn her if you must. But tell her nothing about yourself or your whereabouts. Nothing”, he emphasized, turning his head to look her dead in the eye.
“I won’t”, she mumbled, subdued.
“Good.”
“I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Never thought you were”, he assured her.
They fell silent for a while. He kept his eyes on the road. The car would be out of fuel soon. They’d need to get rid of it, hide it from view. He was on the lookout for a suitable spot.
“So… what’s the plan?” she said after a while with mock cheerfulness.
“The plan is to lay low. To hide. To move from place to place so the Terminator can’t track our movements.”
“So you’re saying I’m gonna have to live in hiding for the rest of my life?”
Obviously she didn’t relish the idea. He didn’t dare to tell her that yes, that was exactly what she would do. She would spend all the years before the war hiding her son and preparing him for the fight to come.
“Don’t you know ways to kill a Terminator? Or disable it, or whatever?”
“I do, but… as I told you, I don’t have the right weapons. I can make some, but I’ll need to gather the necessary equipment. Right now the priority is to get the Terminator off our backs.”
Here. That was a good spot. Kyle stopped the car and they both got out. He opened the trunk and handed Sarah a flash light and a first aid kit before he pushed the car off the road. It fell down a ravine, hidden in the vegetation.
Then they got off the road themselves, and walked until he found a good place to hide until daybreak. It was some sort of tunnel that passed under the road.
Here he felt right at home. In his world, tunnels and the underground were the places where you were safe.
He turned off the flash light then dropped it and the first aid kit on the ground while Sarah was sitting against the concrete wall.
She was shivering violently. Her jacket had stayed behind at the precinct, and she was only wearing a shirt and a pair of jeans.
“You cold?”
“Freezing.”
Awkwardly, he came to sit next to her, draping his good arm over her shoulders to share his warmth. He half expected a rejection, but she settled in his embrace without so much as a flinch. Since she was still shaking as hard as ever, he raised his right arm to hold her tighter, which had the unfortunate effect of waking up his wound.
The hug was completely impersonal, of course. All part of the mission. She was destined to carry the savior of humanity, and so it was his job to maintain her physical integrity. It wouldn’t do if he let her die of hypothermia. She… uh… she smelled nice. And her hair brushing against his face was the softest thing he’d ever...
“Reese? You got a first name?”
“Kyle.”
“Kyle… what’s it like when you go through time?”
“White light… pain… it’s like being born, maybe.”
He wasn’t sure what had inspired that last bit. At the time, it had felt like dying more than anything else. But then he’d arrived naked in a strange world…
“Oh my god!” Sarah exclaimed, interrupting his introspective reverie.
She was looking down at her fingers, covered in blood. His blood.
Oh. Right.
“I caught one back there”, he shrugged, looking at the torn sleeve of his coat.
He didn’t even remember when it happened. Probably while he was looking for her. Bullets were flying everywhere, and in the moment, he’d been too pumped with adrenaline to notice. He’d started to feel it in the car, but the pain was still manageable, as long as he didn’t move it too much.
“You mean you got shot?!” she asked, eyes wide.
“It’s not bad”, he reassured her.
“We gotta get you to a doctor!” she insisted.
“It’s ok, forget it.”
He honestly didn’t understand what she was getting so worked up about. It was just a flesh wound, it wasn’t like his arm was broken or anything like that. It was bothersome, sure, but nothing life threatening. He could take care of it later.
“What do you mean ‘forget it’ are you crazy?? Take this off!” she ordered him, tugging at his coat, then she escaped from his arms to go get the first aid kit.
Apparently there was no point arguing, so he did as he was told. He removed the coat while she was sitting next to him, flashlight in hand, the first aid kit opened by her side.
“Jesus”, she let out as she examined the wound, immediately looking away.
“See? It passed right through the meat”, he said with the misguided notion that such a comment would help.
“Oooh this is gonna make me puke”, she whined.
It was so strange to imagine that this girl, grossed out by the mere sight of blood, would grow to become what John used to describe as the most badass woman he’d ever known (to put it politely). There was really no telling what circumstances could bring out of people. What they were truly capable of, when chips were down.
It almost didn’t seem fair. Then again, it wasn’t fair to any of them.
“Would you just talk about something?” she begged him as she was fussing with the contents of the first aid kit.
“What?” he said, baffled.
“I don’t know, anything, just talk. Tell me about my son.”
Okay. Well. He supposed he could do that.
“He’s about my height…”
He winced in pain as she started applying antiseptic on the wound. She raised apologetic eyes to him, grimacing in sympathy.
“…He has your eyes.”
That brought out the shadow of a smile.
“What’s he like?” she asked as she kept dabbing at his wound, a little more carefully.
“You trust him. He’s got a strength… I’d die for John Connor”, he said earnestly, not hiding the fervor in his eyes.
John Connor was indeed the kind of leader that inspired such unwavering loyalty. He was a true hero, an inspiration to all those who followed him. He was also a tactical genius, always thinking one step ahead, almost as if he could predict the enemy's every move. But to Kyle, he was more than that. He was the man who rescued him from the horrors of the disposal units. He was the one who taught him to fight back. He gave him a purpose, a chance to live with pride and dignity instead of just surviving. He reshaped a scrawny kid whose existence was basically worthless into a fearless warrior, fighting to protect mankind. Kyle owed him everything.
“Well, at least now I know what to name him”, she half-laughed, starting to wrap the gauze around his arm, right above the elbow. “I don’t suppose you know who the father is so I won’t tell him to get lost when I meet him?”
He had no idea. John hardly ever mentioned him, unlike his mother… In fact, he always seemed reluctant to talk about him, as if it was a particularly touchy subject. From what Kyle could gather, John’s conception was the guy’s main contribution to the world. He was already out of the picture before John was even born, and Sarah had to raise and protect their son on her own. Didn’t exactly sound like the father of the year.
He racked his memory to think of something, anything to say:
“John never said much about him. I know he dies before the war...”
“Wait!” she interrupted suddenly, raising her hand to shut him up. “I don’t wanna know.”
You dumbass, he mentally chastised himself for his thoughtlessness. Of course she doesn’t want to know that!
“So… was it John that sent you here?” she asked, visibly eager to change the subject.
“I volunteered”, he confessed quietly.
She stared at him with unbearable pity, as if she understood the full extent of his sacrifice.
“Why?” she whispered, horrified.
“It was a chance to meet the legend”, he replied with bravado. “Sarah Connor, who taught her son to fight, organise, prepare from when he was a kid. When you were in hiding before the war.”
He’d meant to flatter her, but that didn’t really have the intended effect. She looked uneasy, incredulous, then frankly disturbed.
“You’re talking about things I haven’t done yet in the past tense. It’s driving me crazy”, she said, tightening the knot of the bandage with such force that he sucked in a breath as a new wave of pain radiated through his arm.
She hastily loosened the knot.
“Are you sure you have the right person?” she practically begged him.
“I’m sure.”
There was absolutely no doubt about that. She was the one.
“Come on! Do I look like the mother of the future? I mean, am I tough? Organized? I can’t even balance my checkbook!”
She got up and started pacing, agitation turning rapidly into anger.
“Look, Reese, I didn’t ask for this “honor” and I don’t want it! Any of it!”
In that moment, even as she was denying it all, her mannerisms, her tone, her rage were so similar to John’s, it was like Kyle’s commander was shining through her.
He would have found it fascinating if her words weren’t so irritating. She didn’t have the luxury to walk away from this any more than he did, or John, or anyone else. The war was upon her, whether she wanted it or not. In a few years from now, her entire world would be wiped out, billions of people would die, and the surface of the Earth would be an endless hellscape of ruins, ashes and bones. It was time she accepted the harsh reality and faced it head on, like she taught her son to do.
“Your son gave me a message to give to you”, he said coolly.
Her eyes shot at him, blazing with fury, her jawline set in a mulish expression.
“Made me memorize it”, he continued, unfazed. “Thank you, Sarah, for your courage through the dark years. I can’t help you with what you must soon face, except to say that the future is not set. You must be stronger than you imagine you can be. You must survive or I will never exist.” That’s all.”
During that speech, her anger subsided, leaving the fear beneath plain to see.
Kyle flexed his bandaged arm, testing it.
“It’s a good field dressing”, he complimented her.
“You like it? It’s my first…”, she said bitterly.
The first of many, she didn’t have to say.
Chapter Text
“Get some sleep”, he told her. “It will be light soon.”
She was still standing across from him, processing John’s message from the future, looking absolutely miserable.
“Ok”, she said eventually, and she came back to sit next to him.
Arms crossed above her knees, she dropped her head back against the concrete wall, eyes closed.
“Talk to me some more.”
“About what?”
Chitchat really wasn’t his thing. Besides, he didn’t understand why she kept asking him to talk, when it was obvious that everything he said ended up upsetting her one way or another.
“Tell me about where you’re from.”
He let his head fall back against the wall next to her, contemplating what to tell her.
“All right”, he said without enthusiasm.
And so he told her about what he knew.
“You stay down by day, but at night you can move around. You still have to be careful because the H-Ks use infrared. But they’re not too bright. John taught us ways to dust them. That’s when the infiltrators started to appear. The Terminators were the newest. The worst.”
He told her about the civilians hiding underground, crammed together in shelters. The young children, the sick, the disabled, the elderly, all those unfit to fight, they all stayed huddled there, protected by the military. Food and drinking water were strictly rationed. Privacy was nonexistent. Hunting rats and other vermin was a common sport. Conditions weren’t ideal, but at least they were safe… that is, until the Terminators arrived. They would hide among the groups of refugees who sought entry in the shelters, and once they got inside, they massacred everyone.
He stopped talking when she sagged against him, asleep, overcome by exhaustion after that long, strange, terrible night. As she was sliding down, he guided her head to let it fall gently on his lap, then he covered her with the coat.
Outside, dawn was breaking, and the birds started chirping, welcoming the sun. He looked, mesmerized, at a bush at the entrance of the tunnel, at its leaves trembling in the pale light of day. Specks of gold and soft green were sparkling and dancing before his eyes. He’d never seen anything like this. Where he was from, vegetation had mostly disappeared in the nuclear winter.
Sarah shifted in her sleep, and he looked down at her. Now her face was turned upward, and for the first time he could watch her in the daylight. Although he already knew her face so well, the fixed image of an old photograph held no comparison to seeing her like this, in the flesh. She was so beautiful… And yet, in her sleep her features were hardened by tension. The carefree girl that he’d caught mere glimpses of early in the evening had already started to disappear.
A wave of sadness came over him. It truly was unfair. The burden she would have to carry was so great, and she would have to carry it alone, in a world not ready to believe her until it was too late. He wished he could help her. He wished he could comfort her, share that burden, carry it for her. But it wasn’t his place. He didn’t belong here, he was never meant to play a part in her life. His mission was to stop the Terminator, and then, assuming he made it that far, he would have to let events unfold as they were supposed to, without disturbing them further. John Connor needed to exist, or humanity would go extinct. He didn’t know how much had already been changed at this point, and he preferred not to think about it. This stuff could make you dizzy if you thought about it too hard.
Her bangs were covering her left eye, and he gave in to the urge to brush the strand of hair aside. Slowly, careful not to make contact with her skin, he let his fingers tenderly trace the side of her face. He wondered what it would feel like to caress her like this. That was something he would never know.
She woke up with a start in the middle of a dream, and he removed his hand before she could notice it.
“I was dreaming about dogs”, she said drowsily, sitting up.
“We use them to spot Terminators”, he informed her.
She sighed.
“Your world is pretty terrifying.”
They got out of the tunnel, and as they walked outside in the open, he couldn’t help himself. Entranced, he looked up at the wilderness around them, taking in the lush vegetation, the fantastic shapes of the trees, the colors of the sky and the mist, the birds in flight, the alien scent of dew on the grass. It was like waking up in a surreal dream, like he was opening his eyes and seeing for the first time after a lifetime of darkness. He never knew the world could be so beautiful.
When they reached the road again, he pulled out his gun.
“We gotta get a car”, he said, eyeing an approaching vehicle.
Sarah’s eyes widened and she quickly pulled his hand down.
“Put that thing away. I can get us a ride”, she said confidently.
He looked, puzzled, as she held up her thumb to the passing car. It didn’t stop.
“This works, really”, she assured him, not deterred in the slightest.
He pursed his lips and said nothing. He supposed he could give this incomprehensible ceremony a try. If a driver picked them up willingly, it would attract less attention on them than hijacking a car.
Five cars passed them by before a pickup truck stopped, and they crammed into the cab next to the driver, a well-muscled young man with long hair and a skin so tan Kyle wondered if he’d been exposed to radiations.
Sarah spent the drive chatting with the driver, smiling and laughing, exchanging pleasantries that completely went over Kyle’s head.
“He’s a surfer” she told him as if that was supposed to enlighten him about everything that had been said so far.
But that piece of information meant nothing to him, so he just gave a neutral nod.
“You from back East of something?” the surfer asked.
“No, he’s from the future”, Sarah answered with a bright smile, and Kyle stared at her, baffled.
“Whoa, I hear that. Listen, I had a rough night. I gotta stop and bag some Z’s for a couple of hours.”
They’d just arrived in sight of a gas station, and the driver pulled off.
They got out of the pickup, and Kyle looked around him, disconcerted. Surrounded by the woods, there was a meadow dotted with wooden tables and benches, where entire families were sitting, talking, laughing, listening to music. Children were running and playing in the sun, screaming loudly, not at all concerned that they were so vulnerable in the open in broad daylight. The serenity of the scene was jarring to him.
“I’m gonna go get cleaned up”, Sarah told him, pointing in the direction of the building. “Maybe you should too”, she added, looking him over tentatively.
He followed her, as if in a daze, not really paying attention to what she was saying. She opened a door and he started to follow her inside, but then she stopped and turned around.
“Yours is over there”, she said, suppressing a smile and pointing to another door, gently pushing him out.
Then she closed the door in his face.
Instead of going through the other door, he stayed in front of the building. His eyes fell on a device from which water was gushing continuously, clear and sparkling in the sunlight. Two boys were filling toy guns with it. When that operation was over, they started shooting at each other, throwing the precious liquid everywhere, letting it spill on the ground without a care in the world. A few drops splashed on him.
He briefly closed his eyes, feeling lightheaded.
Then he walked away, away from the sight, away from the noise.
He needed to get a grip on himself.
He always knew this world was different. He couldn’t let it get to him. He needed to stay focused. The Terminator was still out there, and Sarah wouldn’t be safe until it was gone.
They needed to find another car, and move on.
He went to the row of cars parked in front of the gas station, wondering if he could get into one of them and hot-wire it without being seen, but there always seemed to be someone around. He was still contemplating this when he saw Sarah running towards him, a piece of paper in hand, looking overly excited and mighty pleased with herself.
“Look what I found”, she said proudly, showing him the paper.
It was the torn page of a phone book.
“What’s that?” he said as she was shoving it in his hands.
She showed him a line:
Cyberdyne Systems Inc
“Cyberdyne Systems, isn’t that it?”
“What about it?” he frowned.
“Listen to this: they developed this revolutionary new thing. This muh…”
“Molecular-memory.”
“Right! So, they become hotshot computer guys so they get to develop this thing for the government…”
She was speaking very fast, very loudly, and he glanced around nervously, wondering if someone might overhear.
“… Right?” she tapped on his arm to get his attention, and he started to move away from the crowd.
She trotted next to him like an overexcited puppy.
“Right, yeah, that’s the way it was told to me”, he said warily, wondering what she was getting at.
“So we can eighty-six the bastard”, she said with a ferocious smile. “We can blow it up, it will never happen!”
He felt his throat tighten.
“No, it’s tactically dangerous. We lay low”, he said stiffly.
“No, Reese!” she urged him, putting both her hands on his chest to stop him in his tracks. “Think it through! We can prevent the war. There’s nobody else! If we go to somebody official, we end up in jail again and he’s got us again! We’ve got to do it ourselves.”
She was very intense about this. And yes, the idea was worth considering. But there was no way in hell he would deliberately expose her to this kind of risk. She was too important. If they failed, if she got caught or worse, it was all over.
“It’s not my mission”, he said, unyielding.
And now of course she was furious with him.
“Listen. Understand”, she said, mocking his words from the previous night, “I am not a military objective, I’m a person and you don’t own me.”
“Let’s go”, he said tiredly, reaching for her arm to get her moving.
“Fuck you! Let me go”, she roared, jerking free, then she dashed into the woods.
His blood ran cold. He rushed after her, calling her name, but she was running as fast as she could, hellbent on getting away.
He’d been stupid. He’d let his guard down. He couldn’t lose her. If he did, she would die, and it would be the end of everything.
She took an abrupt turn, leaving the path that wound between the trees. He cut through and tackled her from behind, holding on to her for all he was worth as they fell and rolled together down the slope.
She was struggling viciously in his arms, desperate to escape. In a supreme effort to break free, she punched him across the face with all her might.
He reacted purely by reflex, the product of years of military conditioning and war. He pulled out his gun and aimed at her.
She fell back onto the thick bed of ferns, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of shock, terror, and defiance.
“That’s right buddy, go ahead, shoot! That’s smart!” she taunted him.
He slowly lowered the gun, his body shaking, his pulse roaring in his ears.
“Jesus Christ Reese! Don’t you see that I am scared?” she cried. “I don’t want to wait my whole life for that thing to catch up to me! Always looking over my shoulder, wondering if I’ve left some tiny clue behind…”
He slumped, heart pumping, breathing shallow, and the gun slipped from his limp fingers. Turning away from her, he let his eyes embrace the scenery while he was trying to regain control over himself.
He didn’t even know the words to describe what his eyes were seeing. He had no frame of reference for it. All he knew was that it was the most breathtaking, enchanting thing he’d ever seen. And it was breaking him.
“Reese?” she called.
But he remained frozen, prostrated, incapable to respond.
“Reese…” she called again, hesitantly approaching him.
In her voice all anger had evaporated, replaced with concern.
“I don’t belong here”, he said, the words coming out of him as if he was in a trance. “I wasn’t meant to see this. It’s like a dream… This”, he said, gesturing at the little stream in the clearing behind her, “and this”, he said, touching the delicate petals of a flower, “and you”, he added in a broken whisper, “all so beautiful…”
He hid his face in his hand, his body racked by irrepressible, heartbroken sobs.
“It hurts, Sarah! It hurts so bad… You can’t understand. It’s gone. All gone! All of it… it’s gone.”
He was looking at her now, beseeching, begging her to understand what no word could possibly express.
Her eyes on him were grave, full of compassion.
She reached out and gently squeezed his hand.
“Well… We can change it, Kyle”, she told him, her voice hoarse with emotion, but determined. “We have to at least try. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves, right? Come on kiddo. Whaddya say?”
Could they? Could they change the fate of the world? Could they save all this, prevent the war from ever happening? In this moment he wanted to believe her. He wanted it so badly… more than anything.
Slowly, shakily, he nodded, feeling like the ground was opening under his feet, like he was drifting, untethered, pulled towards an inescapable black void.
“Okay”, he whispered.
‘Okay’, she smiled at him encouragingly, eyes shining with unshed tears. And then she hugged him, her fingers cradling the back of his head. He closed his eyes under her touch, wondering if this decision was going to save the world, or if he’d just doomed everyone.
Notes:
Can you tell how much I wish they'd kept this deleted scene? T_T
Chapter 5: 5
Chapter Text
They hitched a ride in a truck that was headed in the direction of San Francisco. The duration of the ride allowed Kyle to think things over more calmly.
Sarah was right, of course. They had a duty to try. Didn’t John himself, in his message to her, say that the future isn’t set? He wouldn’t have taken the trouble to make Kyle deliver those exact words if they were meaningless.
They could change everything, for everyone. Billions of lives could be saved. The Earth could remain as it was now instead of being turned into a sterile wasteland ravaged beyond healing. Humanity could go on, thriving, living openly in the daylight as it was always meant to, instead of starving and hiding underground like a handful of rats. Wasn’t this precisely what he’d been fighting for all these years? The salvation of mankind? Faced with the same choice, he was almost certain that John would have made the same gamble. He was his mother’s son, after all.
Which made it all the more dangerous for her. Because the Terminator could calculate the probability of such an outcome. In other words, there was a very real chance that it would expect them to try and nip Skynet in the bud, and that it would come to intercept them. They had to be prepared for that. And, as far as Kyle was concerned, his primary mission was still to keep Sarah alive, no matter what. Everything else came second.
With a bit of luck though, the Terminator wouldn’t expect them to make such a bold move so early. It would follow more likely leads first. Which meant that the sooner they acted, the better.
The truck driver dropped them off at Sunnyvale, where Cyberdyne had its offices and factory. The plan was straightforward enough: they would simply burn the whole place down, destroy the data and the tech. Hopefully it would be enough to prevent Skynet from ever being created, and the future war would be averted. Whether it would also rid them of the Terminator was far less certain. Kyle was no expert, but it stood to reason that, even if the future it came from was erased, the Terminator itself would still be here, and wouldn’t simply vanish into thin air. That would be far too easy.
Either way, they were going to need the proper equipment to execute their plan. Which meant that they needed to make a stop in a place where they could get ready, away from prying eyes. A motel room, Sarah had suggested. And once she’d explained to him what a motel was, he wholeheartedly agreed.
He understood that they would need money to get a room. In Silberman’s coat, he’d found a wallet full of dollar bills, but having spent his entire life in a world where money was a concept of the past, he had no idea what it was worth.
“Is that enough?” he asked her candidly while they were walking towards the motel, showing her his loot.
“Yeah it’s enough”, she rolled her eyes at him, quickly hiding the fistful of bills from view. “I don’t wanna ask where you got it.”
There was a German shepherd tied to a chain next to the counter. While Sarah started talking to the clerk, Kyle went directly to the dog to pet it. This was a welcome sight: if the Terminator showed up, the dog would warn them.
“We need a room”, he heard Sarah say.
“With a kitchen”, he chimed in.
That would help with the preparations he had in mind.
***
“I’m dying for a shower”, Sarah sighed, sitting on the bed, while he was checking every window in the room. “We should check your bandage, too”, she added as an afterthought.
That wasn’t very high on his list of priorities. If they were going to do this tonight, there was a lot to do, and no time to waste.
“Later. I’m going out for supplies.”
She could stay here if she wanted. This place should be safe for now. Still… no harm in taking extra precautions.
“Keep this”, he told her, handing her the gun.
She took it like he was giving her a dead mouse, and he took off.
At no point did it occur to him that she might not know how to use it. To him, the idea of Sarah Connor not being able to handle a firearm was simply unthinkable.
It was refreshing to be able to buy things instead of stealing them. It saved a lot of time. Especially considering the nature of his shopping list, that made the task a little challenging. And it wasn’t like he could tell the clerk precisely what he was looking for. Granted, he was very ignorant of this world, but he knew enough to assume that he probably shouldn’t let anyone know that he was planning to make a bunch of explosives.
It took him a while, and he had to get a little creative, but eventually he managed to gather everything he needed. By the time he came back into the motel room, night had fallen.
He dropped the bags on the table in the kitchen area.
“What have we got?” Sarah said with mirth, going through the contents. “Mothballs… corn syrup… ammonia… What’s for dinner?”
“Plastique”, he answered seriously while he was setting everything up.
“Hmm, that sounds good. What is it?”
“Nitroglycerin base. It’s a bit more stable. I learned to make it when I was a kid.”
In concentrated silence, he made the mixture while she was observing him, eyes wide. He only spoke to her to ask her to pass whatever chemical or utensil he needed in the moment, and she did it without a word, as if she was worried they’d both explode if she distracted him even a little bit.
No danger there. He hadn’t done this since he was twelve, that is to say since he was deemed old enough to take up arms, but it wasn’t the kind of thing you could just forget.
Once the paste was ready, they both sat at the table and he showed her how to fill the pipes with it.
“Make sure there’s none on the threads… like this”, he said, wiping the edge with a cloth. “Screw the end cap on.”
He gave it back to her.
“Very gently”, he reminded her as her movements were a little too nervous.
She froze, then went again, very carefully.
“You must have had a fun childhood”, she remarked with a strained smile.
When she was done, he took it back, tested it.
“That’s good”, he congratulated her. “Alright, six more like that and I’ll get started on the fuses.”
He stood up and went to the countertop to get the string and a pair of scissors.
“You know, I was thinking”, she said while he was rummaging in the bag, his back to her. “There’s so many things to do once we get through this… Possibilities are amazing! There’s Disneyland… the beach… movies… matinees with pop-corn and foot-long hot dogs…”
“Hot dogs?” he repeated, slightly alarmed.
What did these people do to their dogs...?
When he turned around to look at her in confusion, she nodded sadly, as if his ignorance about hot dogs was the most terrible tragedy.
“All the things you’ve never seen and done… I mean you’re here but you’re not really here. Wherever you go, you bring your war with you…”
“My whole life has been war”, he retorted, sitting back next to her, his eyes on the string and scissors in his hands to avoid looking at her.
“I want it to be over for you.”
“That doesn’t seem possible”, he almost scoffed.
He didn’t mean to rebuff her. It was a nice sentiment, and part of him was grateful for it, but she just didn’t understand. The war was all he knew. That was the reality that shaped his entire being, both physically and mentally, and even if they got rid of the Terminator, even if they prevented the war, he would never be able to fit in her world. He would always be a stranger here. Wrong, like a square trying to fit in a round hole. He could help her save the world for her and everyone else. Even for John, who would get to grow up like a carefree, ordinary kid. But not for himself. The world he was from, the horrors he’d seen would never leave him. They were forever carved inside of him, infinitely deeper than the brand on his arm or the innumerable battle scars that marred his body.
So the little fantasy she was describing was just that: a fantasy. And it hurt a little too much to think of something that he could never have. He wished she’d talk about something else.
“I want it to be over for me too”, she continued. “I feel like I’ve crossed some invisible line, like I’m in your world now. It’s like there’s you, and me, and him. Nobody can help us, or even understand.”
He stopped fussing with the string, and stared at her. Something in her words, in the way she’d said them, had struck a chord, a yearning deep inside him. She was looking at him too, her eyes so earnest, so grave, so full of grief, as if she could truly understand his pain, as if she could share it even a little bit. And maybe she did. She certainly would some day, if her future remained unchanged. And she would be alone then, with no one to share that with her, except John once he would be old enough. Unless...
But he didn't dare finish that thought. He had no right to. Besides, weren't they going to change all that? She wouldn't need him by her side once this was over.
The moment lingered dangerously. He looked down, resisted the temptation to reach for her hand, and went for her wristwatch instead.
“We’ll head out at 0200”, he said impassively. “That gives you four hours to sleep if you want. I’ll finish up here.”
He quickly looked away, unable to hold her gaze, to watch the disappointment and the hurt in her eyes. While he pretended to be absorbed in his task, she silently stood up and went to lock herself in the bathroom.
Chapter 6: 6
Notes:
Thank you so much to everyone who left a kudo or a comment on this work!
Here comes the update... I hope I did this part justice!!
Chapter Text
By the time he’d finished and cleaned up everything, she was still fully awake on the bed, observing him attentively.
Somehow, a first aid kit had found its way on the nightstand beside her.
“We should really change your bandages. Blood is seeping through. But you’d better take a shower first”, she said, her tone firm.
That sounded very much like an order, and he couldn’t really think of any reason to argue with it. The bombs were neatly aligned on the table, all there was left to do was to put them in the bag. That could easily wait.
Once in the bathroom, he contemplated the shower with a knot in the pit of his stomach that could only be attributed to dread. Showers existed where he came from, but they were only used for decontamination after being exposed to radioactivity on the surface. Those weren’t exactly pleasant. For your everyday hygiene, you had to make do with your daily ration of drinking water.
He had to remind himself that here water was abundant, and that there was no harm in wasting it. It was fine.
He stripped out of his clothes, undid the old bandages on his arm and his hand, and stepped on the ceramic tray. Then he turned the faucet, and water started pouring, cold at first, then warmer and warmer, until it became almost intolerably hot. Steam began to rise while he was vigorously rubbing his body with the soap, determined to make this as expeditious as possible.
But then something happened. The heat of the water hitting his skin was no longer unpleasant. The mild itching that it left in its wake felt… good. Very good, even. The word “heavenly” sprung to mind. A word that he’d never used in his entire life.
He found himself standing motionless under the jet of water, feeling all the muscles of his neck and his back relax gradually. He closed his eyes, giving in to the delicious sensations, feeling like he could stay like this for hours if he let himself.
But he didn’t have hours. Suddenly coming back to his senses, he turned it off, and stepped out.
He quickly dried himself with a towel, then put his pants back on before he came out of the bathroom.
Sarah had turned the TV on and she was watching the news, propped against a pillow on the bed. The moment he emerged from the bathroom she turned it off.
“Doesn’t look like they’re making much progress with the manhunt… Maybe it’s better that they don’t. I can’t imagine it would go well for them if they tried to arrest him.”
She looked at him and blinked, nonplussed.
“Are you okay? You look a little…”
“I’m fine”, he said tersely.
He didn’t want to elaborate. He felt somewhat obscene for enjoying something that the people from his time would have considered a crime. How many gallons of water did he just let go down the drain? He almost shuddered at the idea.
Sarah bit her lip, looking at him with a curious expression somewhere between amusement and… was it endearment?
“Come on”, she said, patting the bed next to her. “Let’s take care of those bandages.”
He obeyed, feeling more awkward than ever. She really didn’t have to do this. He could do it himself. This felt… unnecessarily intimate.
He sat next to her, and she took his arm, examining the wound.
“Doesn’t look infected”, she remarked.
She exhibited none of her earlier squeamishness, as if she was already getting used to this.
He didn’t say anything, acutely aware of the touch of her fingers and her warm breath on his skin.
Once she was done with his arm, she focused on his hand.
“I’m sorry about this”, she said, and in his ears her voice sounded almost caressing. “I was just so scared at the time…”
“It’s fine”, he whispered, looking fixedly at the table in front of him.
“I’m sorry about punching you, too. I shouldn’t have.”
Well, he definitely shouldn’t have pointed his gun at her either, so they were more than even on that front.
“Don’t worry about it.”
He wasn’t looking at her, yet he could almost feel her annoyance at his laconic responses, like a heat radiating from her.
“Right”, she teased. “I get it. All part of the mission, right?”
He didn’t take the bait. Eventually she let out a defeated sigh, and she finished bandaging the bite mark on his hand without another word.
“We can share the bed if you want. You need to rest too”, she offered while putting everything back in the kit.
That was a terrible idea.
“No, I’m good. You keep the bed, I’ll stand watch.”
And before she had time to come up with a reply, he rose from the bed, took the gun on the nightstand, and posted himself at the window bay by the door, his eyes on the courtyard and the parking lot.
She capitulated completely then. She took the kit back to the bathroom, came back to lie down on the bed and turned off the light.
But she still didn’t fall asleep. He could hear it in her breathing. She was just lying in the dark, thoughts spinning in her head.
He was thinking too. Doubt was creeping, unbidden. Could this really be enough? Could they really stop Skynet, simply by destroying a building? All of a sudden, what had seemed like a good idea in the light of day now appeared to him like wishful thinking. It couldn’t be that simple. Maybe it would delay things a little, but the people who invented Skynet, the brains behind the technology, would still be there. And if it wasn’t Cyberdyne, it would be another company. Sooner or later, someone would come up with the technology, and Skynet or its equivalent would be unleashed upon the world.
And then, there was still the matter of the Terminator, always out there, searching for them… How long until it caught up to them? Would his homemade bombs be enough to get rid of it for good? And if they weren’t… How long could they keep this up?
“He’ll find us, won’t he?” Sarah said, echoing his thoughts.
“Probably.”
There really was no point sugarcoating it.
He heard her moving on the bed, and he turned away from the window to meet her anxious gaze. She sat up on the bed, then came to join him, sitting on the armchair right behind him. He resolutely turned his attention back to the window, trying not to let her proximity rattle him.
“It will never be over, will it?” she murmured gloomily, as if she was finally accepting the inevitable.
No comforting answer came to mind, so he thought better not to say anything.
“Look at me, I’m shaking. Some legend, huh? You must be pretty disappointed.”
At those words he turned back to look at her.
“No, I’m not”, he said sincerely.
It was true that she wasn’t quite what he’d expected. All he’d heard about her before he crossed over time were stories about things she would accomplish later in life. John had always described her as a tough, resilient fighter. Someone who taught him to be strong and resourceful. Someone uncompromising, untamable, fueled by her rage and a will of iron, hard even in her love for her son.
But he’d also known that there was another side to her. He’d seen it. He would be lying if he pretended that he hadn’t been fascinated by it. That he hadn’t spent countless hours wondering at it, contemplating the expression in her eyes…
And it was this side of her that was revealed to him now, here in this time with her. He knew she was strong. He knew she had what it took to survive and to walk the difficult path that awaited her, because it had already happened. But it shook him to the depths of his being to discover the girl who didn’t yet do all those things, who hadn’t yet become all those things. A girl who could laugh and joke and talk about hot dogs and movies as if they were the most important things in life. And it filled him with unspeakable grief that this side of her would have to disappear, would have to be sacrificed to a lifetime of constant danger and loss and exile. And he wished more than he could say that he could change that for her, but it didn’t seem likely.
“Kyle… the women in your time. What are they like?”
“Good fighters”, he responded almost automatically, taken off guard by the unexpected question.
She smiled at the innocence of his answer.
“It’s not what I meant. Was there someone special?”
“Someone…?”
He felt his skin grow hot under the directness of her gaze.
“A girl. You know…”, she said softly.
“No.”
He had to turn away from her before he admitted the full truth.
“Never.”
“Never?” she repeated with evident pity.
It wasn’t that he’d never felt any attraction. But the only girls he’d known had been sisters in arms, and it had always seemed pointless to grow attached to someone who could die in front of you at any given moment. Losing them would only hurt that much more. It could even get you killed, make you lose your head. He’d seen it happen.
But he’d found something else. Something safe. An escape. A fantasy. Someone who couldn’t die because she was already gone. Someone he could never lose, because her image was forever engraved in his mind. And this beautiful ghost frozen in time, this precious comfort in the secret of his imagination, would stay with him until his last breath, untouched by the cruelties of his world.
Or at least, he used to think that...
“I’m sorry”, she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
He felt her trembling fingers gently tracing the burn scar on his back, with a tenderness and a care that knocked the breath out of his lungs and almost brought tears to his eyes.
“So much pain…”, she said, her voice quivering.
She was crying over him.
“Pain can be controlled. You just disconnect it.”
That was one of the most important rules he’d learned on the battlefield. Many times, it had made all the difference between life and death for him. To be able to remove yourself from the pain, the fear, the horror of it all, and focus coldly and calmly on what you needed to do. That’s how you stayed alive.
And yet, in this moment, the words almost felt empty.
“So you feel nothing?”
No. That wasn’t true, and he didn’t want her to think that. He didn’t want her to see him like a machine devoid of feelings or emotions. He wasn’t a Terminator. He could feel. He could feel deeply.
“John Connor gave me a picture of you once. I didn’t know why at the time...”
He looked at her again, drowned himself in those beautiful grey eyes staring at him, shiny with tears. In the dim light of the street lamps outside, they were intently searching his, as if she was trying to see his naked soul.
And so he bared his soul to her.
“…It was very old. Torn. Faded. You were young like you are now. You seemed... just a little sad. I used to always wonder what you were thinking in that moment. I memorized every line, every curve. I came across time for you, Sarah. I love you. I always have.”
She stared at him in shock as she processed the revelation. He brutally came back to his senses, and turned away with immediate regret.
Furious with himself, he got up and went back to the table, grabbed the bag and started shoving the bombs inside it, with far too much force, as if he was hoping one of them would detonate and obliterate him along with his shame.
How could he just do that? He had no right to say those words to her. She was the mother of John Connor, and he was nobody, just a soldier who shouldn’t even exist in this time and place. And now it was too late to take it back.
Wordlessly, she followed him. He felt her standing next to him, close enough to touch.
“I shouldn’t have said that”, he said by way of apology, moving away from her, still filling the bag.
He couldn’t even look at her now. He’d made a complete fool of himself, he’d ruined everything.
Please forget I ever said that. Please pretend it never happened, he silently begged her.
But she had other ideas.
She came around the table, and put one hand on his shoulder, and the other flat on the side of his face, gently but firmly coaxing him to turn towards her.
Then she kissed him.
A succession of gentle, shy kisses peppered his lips, before she pulled back to look at him, expectant, wanting.
Somewhere inside him, a dam broke.
All his reservations, all thoughts of her fated future, of John Connor and the war against Skynet, everything disappeared, drowned in a roaring torrent. All that remained was her, here and now, and how much he wanted her.
In an explosion of passion and desire, he kissed her back, and that kiss was anything but shy.
Holding on tightly to one another, they lost themselves in each other, and forgot everything else.
Chapter 7: 7
Notes:
So... huh... writing smut really isn't my thing. But I tried 🫣😅
Chapter Text
The bag of explosives lay discarded on the table, completely forgotten.
Kyle was holding Sarah flush against him, his embrace tight and messy. He could feel her arms around him, clinging to him like a lifeline, her fingers caressing him everywhere they touched him.
The taste of her, the smell of her, the feeling of her hands on his skin, were intoxicating. He felt like he’d starved all his life waiting for her, like she was the air he needed to breathe.
They stumbled drunkenly against the fridge, both too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to their surroundings, their open mouths pressed against each other.
His knees buckled, and they slid to the floor together without interrupting the kiss.
It’s only when he felt her hand slipping under his pants that he pulled back. He looked at her, panting, shaking, his head spinning. The look she gave him in return was unmistakable. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted it now. As for him, well, what he wanted was impossible to deny. She could feel it right here against her palm.
He swiftly picked her up, and carried her to the bed, bridal style.
There she quickly removed her tee-shirt and her bra, and laid back on the bed, letting him take in the sight. He bent over and kissed her reverently, cupping her face in both of his hands. He felt her fingers taking hold of his wrists, guiding his hands downwards, along her throat, her chest, until they rested on her naked breasts. He obediently left them there as they deepened the kiss and she let herself fall back completely against the pillow.
He could feel her nipples harden under his palms. While her fingers were playing with his hair, stroking his shoulders and the base of his neck, he let his mouth and his hands explore the rest of her body, kissing, sucking and caressing his way along her jaw, her throat, her shoulders, her arms, her collar bone, her stomach, her waist, her hips, her navel. When he reached the limit between her naked skin and her jeans, he looked up at her, silently asking permission, and she answered with an approving nod. He unbuttoned the jeans and pulled them down while her legs were helping, kicking the bothersome piece of fabric away. Then the panties went pretty much the same way while she was impatiently giving a similar treatment to his pants, springing his erection free.
They were both ready. She guided him inside her and he felt her warm, slick walls close around him. Her hands on his buttocks, she nudged him forward. He started thrusting, and she let out an audible gasp. He immediately slowed down, worried he might be too brutal, but she quickly reassured him, encouraging him with a thrust of the hips. He picked up the pace, gradually. Before long he felt her tensing and writhing under him, her legs wrapped tightly around him, her back arching and her nails digging into his back as pleasure was building up. His own blood was on fire, and his fist clenched, gripping the sheet. He felt her hand brush against his, trembling, almost helpless with ecstasy. He instinctively reached for it, laced his fingers with hers as her entire body convulsed in a powerful wave of rapturous bliss.
Just seeing her come undone like this almost sent him over the edge. But he was still hard inside her when her body relaxed under him.
She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him again with abandon. In the embrace, they rolled over on the bed, and now he found himself under her while she was riding him. He let her take complete control, content to watch her and to feel her, to let her take everything she wanted from him. He was but a humble devotee worshipping at her altar, thankful to be blessed by her presence, honored to be the instrument of such a glorious goddess.
But she wasn’t just taking. She was giving too. Every undulation of her hips sent ripples of indescribable pleasure into his own body. She kept bending down, covering his face with a neverending flutter of kisses. Her fingers were caressing him, lingering on every scar they met, tracing them tenderly as if she meant to make up for the hurt, to heal them away. He was in a daze, completely overwhelmed, lost in adoration and gratitude for something he never imagined he would be given, not even in his wildest dreams. And now that he had it, he didn’t want to ever let it go. He just loved her so much, he never wanted to be parted from her…
And it’s with that thought, as he was holding her close against him, his face buried in her hair, that he finally came inside her.
***
Had he fallen asleep? He must have, but not being awoken by a nightmare was a novelty. Instead it was a poking on the side of his stomach that made him open his eyes with a spasm.
Sarah was beside him on the bed, propped on one elbow, staring at him with a mischievous little grin. He could still feel her fingers on his stomach, light and insistent, titillating him.
“What are you doing?” he enquired, puzzled.
“It’s called tickling. In one second you’ll beg for mercy”, she informed him as she kept going.
He was definitely enjoying this far less than the way she’d touched him earlier. His body started to squirm, and a laugh escaped him.
“I don’t think I like this very much”, he confessed, putting his hand over hers to stop her.
“You’re not supposed to!” she retorted, and her fingers evaded his admittedly not very firm grasp to continue the torture with renewed energy.
He couldn’t help laughing, and he was smiling so hard his facial muscles almost hurt. Had he ever smiled or laughed like that? He couldn’t recall.
Was this the point? Was she doing this to see him smile and to hear him laugh? Oh…
He moved forward and kissed her, long and deep. The tickling ceased immediately, and instead her hand started caressing his abs and his chest as she returned the kiss with equal fire.
He could feel his desire for her grow again, pressing against her thigh through the sheet. She was aware of it too. Her hand came back down, stroking his shaft in slow, deliberate motions, her thumb rubbing circles on the head. It was driving him mad with want.
Then, to his chagrin she abruptly stopped her ministrations. She reached for his hand and guided it between her legs. He felt the silky skin of her inner thigh, soft like milk. Then her tuft of hair, already wet. She pressed his fingers deeper, between her labia, and he started drawing clumsy circles, eager to return the favor. She moaned against his lips, and he redoubled his efforts until she was quaking uncontrollably on the bed, clinging to him, her mouth wide open.
She pressed herself against him, her tongue in his ear, her teeth nibbling at his lobe.
“I want you inside me”, she rasped.
And so he happily obliged.
The urgency of the first time was gone. This time, he wanted to savor it. His thrusts were slower, deeper, and she responded to each of them with a delicious shiver. He sucked at a nipple and marveled at the way it hardened and rose under his tongue. She had goosebumps all over, everywhere his fingers wandered. It was an amazing, heady feeling, to know that he was having this effect on her.
He couldn’t believe he’d deprived himself of such an experience all these years. Then again, would it have felt the same with another? No, he knew it wouldn’t have. She was the one, the only one for him. There never was anyone else before, and there would never be anyone else after this.
He obscurely felt that he was in the eye of the storm, in a point of convergence between will and fate. This, now, was the most important, the most meaningful moment in his entire existence. Everything in his life had led him here, with her. This was always meant to happen. This was right.
He felt her climax under him, and he joined her in an earth shattering orgasm that left them both trembling and weak. He fell heavily on the mattress beside her, and gathered her in his arms. A strand of hair, damp with sweat, was covering her face. He tenderly reached out and moved it out of the way, absentmindedly caressing the side of her face as he went, and she smiled at him, her face radiant with joy and love.
He felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach, a luminous feeling that spread throughout his entire being. It was something that he’d never felt before, but he knew exactly what it was: perfect happiness.
Chapter 8: 8
Chapter Text
“What time is it?” she asked as he was checking the time on the watch she’d left on the nightstand.
They were still in bed, and she was snuggling against him, her head resting on his shoulder.
“0127”, he answered, and she smiled at the way he read the time.
“Oh, well, we still have plenty of time”, she purred playfully against his chest, her hand traveling idly along his ribs.
That made him smile. If he listened to her, they’d stay in this bed until sunrise. Except, they couldn’t really do that. Could they?
No, they definitely couldn’t.
For a moment, he’d almost forgotten the situation they were in. He felt like he was the one who’d stepped into her world. Like they’d just been wrapped in a tiny bubble in time made just for them, away from everything. It gave him a little taste of what it felt like to live carefree. Happy. It was nice. Wonderful actually. But now the high had started to dissipate. And there was so much he hadn’t told her yet, things she’d need to know in case he got killed and she had to carry on without him.
“Sarah, if I get zeroed…” he started.
Her hand froze and her smile fell.
“Don’t say that”, she said brusquely.
“If that happens”, he insisted, “you’ll have to get away, disappear without a trace. Different country, different name, everything. In case they send another one.”
He knew he wouldn’t be altering much by telling her this. From what he’d heard, she was already living off the grid when she was pregnant with John. He was born in an RV near the Mexican border.
Then he would grow up in Nicaragua and other places like that, raised by a succession of would-be father figures who would teach him about guerrilla tactics, combat, mechanics, and everything else a future military leader would need to know. They were also a bunch of violent drunkards who were convinced that his mother was clinically insane. He couldn’t help thinking that he would be better to John and Sarah than all of those assholes combined. But he quickly pushed the thought away. There was no point thinking that far ahead when he wasn’t even sure he’d make it till tomorrow.
“Wait, they can send another one? I thought you said John blew up the whole place.”
Oh? So she heard what he said to the doctor, then. Good. That would save him a lengthy explanation.
“Yes, he did, but… If what we do now affects the future, we have no way to know exactly how it will be changed… And even without that, there could be other facilities we weren’t aware of, that could have been used to send Terminators at different points in time. Maybe it’s a long shot, and hopefully I’m wrong, but you have to be prepared for the possibility.”
“So it’s really never gonna be over”, she concluded grimly.
He didn’t answer that. What was there to say?
“When does it happen? Judgment day?”
Did she just…? Well, yeah. Obviously she was the one who came up with the name. Who else?
“August 29th 1997”, he said in a heartbeat.
“Shit, that’s… Only 13 years from now. And John doesn’t even exist yet…”
“That’s why it’s so important that you prepare him and protect him, until he’s ready to lead the resistance.”
She grimaced at his words.
“Right. So I’ll teach him to… what? Hack computers, handle weapons and make explosives when he’s in the first grade? That’s just great. A+ parenting.”
He could tell she was getting angry again. He felt for her, truly he understood how helpless and frustrated she must feel, but there was really nothing he could do about that. She would come to terms with it in time. She would simply have to.
He reached out to her in an attempt to comfort her, but she jerked away.
“Sarah…”
He stopped short. What could he possibly say at this point to make her feel better?
“You know what?” she snapped. “I don’t want to talk about this stuff anymore. I don’t want to think about it. And I won’t have to do any of that shit anyway, because we’re destroying Cyberdyne tonight. Right?”
“Right…”, he whispered with a distinct lack of conviction.
“Right?!” she said again, her eyes sending daggers at him.
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Good. Now hold me in your arms and shut up about the future. For one fucking moment, I want to enjoy the present, with you, and not have to think about all the doom and gloom. I’m fed up with it.”
He readily did as he was told, and he held her close, hoping that physical touch would manage to do what words were powerless to accomplish. They spent their remaining time like this, holding on to each other, comforting each other. He felt her body relax slowly against his while his fingers were soothingly running up and down her neck and the base of her skull. He kissed her forehead, her temple, the bridge of her nose. Then she rubbed her nose against his and kissed him tenderly, her fingers running through his hair, her other hand pressed against his heart. All those little gestures of intimacy, he committed them to memory, reveling in them. He had no idea what would happen next, but this short moment was theirs, and she was right. They should make the best of it while they could.
She was smiling again when she reluctantly teared herself from his embrace to check the time once more.
“0153”, she read, imitating him. “I guess we should get ready now if we’re gonna do this.”
It didn’t take them long to gather their things and to put them back on. She was cheerful now, clearly anticipating the success of their endeavor, and he discovered that despite his many reservations, the feeling was infectious. He found himself grinning like a fool, just for the joy of being with her. He was completely done for.
The second the dog started barking, his entire body tensed, in high alert. Sarah’s smile vanished and all color drained from her face.
The soldier in him took over immediately. He didn’t waste time glancing through the bay window just to confirm what he already knew: the Terminator had found them, and in a moment it would be kicking the door down. He quickly led Sarah to the tiny bathroom and helped her to escape through the window. The moment his own feet touched the ground outside, he heard the door banging against the wall and a spray of bullets from an assault rifle.
They ran around the building to reach the parking lot. A guy was at the wheel of his pickup, ready to leave. Thanking providence for small favors, Kyle tossed the man aside and took his place, while Sarah was taking the passenger seat. As he was maneuvering the vehicle, the Terminator came out of their room, rifle in hand. He rammed the pickup into the cyborg, and in the collision the rifle fell to the ground. He drove away while the Terminator was retrieving its weapon.
It didn’t take it long to catch up with them. They could both see the motorbike tailing them on the road. Kyle was driving as fast as he could, but the road was wide, in a straight line, practically deserted. They made an easy target. The Terminator started shooting, and they felt the bullets hit them in the rear.
Sarah took an explosive out of the bag, showing it to him in a silent question.
It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t like they had a whole lot of other options.
“Trade places!” he decided.
She took the wheel and he moved to ride shotgun, while the car was hit by another hail of bullets.
“Faster. Drive faster!” he urged her, lighting the fuse as they entered a tunnel.
He leaned out the window and threw the bomb. It exploded one second too late, behind the bike.
He needed to get the timing right.
He lit the fuse of the second bomb. Roughly estimated the distance that separated the bike from the car. Threw it. It detonated too early this time. The Terminator easily drove around the cloud of smoke, hardly slowed down by the obstacle.
Damn it.
He lit the third one. Waited. Waited some more, counting the seconds in his head. Threw it. Almost, but not quite. The bike emerged from the smoke, unscathed. The Terminator shot another round, and Sarah gasped next to him.
Kyle threw the fifth bomb, way too early again.
Shit, get it together, he admonished himself.
He’d already wasted more than of half of his stock, and once they were out, they would be completely naked.
He lit the sixth one. He had to make this one count.
The moment he was about to throw it, the Terminator shot again, and he felt an explosion of pain in his chest and his right arm while the pick-up swerved to avoid both the bomb and the bullets.
He almost fell over, darkness invading his field of vision.
He faintly heard Sarah’s voice screaming his name, and he felt her pulling him back inside. His body was limp, unresponsive, and he could feel himself sinking into a cold, dark pool of nothingness.
He fought to stay conscious.
He couldn’t fall asleep and abandon her. Not yet. She needed him.
But it was all he could do not to drown in the darkness. He couldn’t see anything and his body wasn’t obeying him at all, tossed around like a sandbag, each movement sending another wave of pain across his body.
At least the discomfort was keeping him awake.
He felt a vicious swerve, and then the world came tumbling upside down around him. Sarah was screaming, and the sound of that neverending scream was filling his head, drilling through his skull, making him nauseous. He wanted to beg her to stop, but he could hardly breathe, let alone speak.
Then all became still and silent.
So still and so silent that for a horrible moment, he thought he was dead.
But then he heard her again, calling his name. He felt her hand on the side of his throat, the weight of her arm across his chest. She was still here. She was still alive. And so was he, although just barely.
There was a distant sound of honking, and screeching tires.
For a while, Sarah didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. And try as he might to focus on the sensation of her fingers against his skin, of his heartbeat pulsing there as if she was keeping him alive by sheer force of will, he could feel himself slipping away, losing his sense of the world around him.
He’d had no illusions about his chances of survival when he’d volunteered for this mission. But he’d really hoped that he’d last longer than this. That at least if he was going to die, he would take the fucker with him. Was it dead? Did she kill it?
The answer didn’t take long to come.
It was still alive. And it was coming for them.
“Kyle. Come on. Get up”, she said suddenly, shaking him, pulling him, waking up the pain in all his body.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. He was dead weight now. Useless.
Leave me, he wanted to tell her. Run, save yourself, your life is the only one that matters. Mine was always supposed to be expendable.
But he couldn’t articulate a word.
She wasn’t leaving him, stubbornly dragging him, inch by excruciating inch, to take him out of the car.
“He’s coming”, she groaned through gritted teeth. “Kyle, come on! HELP ME! GET UP! GET UP!”
Spurred by the urgency in her voice, understanding that she would sooner die here with him than leave him behind, he gathered whatever willpower he had left and used it to kick himself out of the fog of numbness and debilitating pain.
He rose to his feet, somehow still clinging to the bag containing his last pair of bombs, and he forced himself to move, limping by her side, every step sending a jolt of pain across his leg, his chest, his broken arm. His head was spinning furiously and he could hardly see where he was going. He wanted to throw up. He thought distractedly that he probably had a concussion.
Sarah was holding on to him, half dragging him, half supporting him.
Right behind them, a huge tanker truck slammed into the car they’d just crawled out of. Then it braked and turned around to come after them.
He pushed himself forward, running, doing his best not to slow her down, but even though his lungs were on fire and an invisible knife was repeatedly stabbing his side, his pace was desperately sluggish, and she was the one yelling at him to go faster.
This was no good. They were both going to get killed if they continued like this.
They passed by a dumpster and he had a sudden strike of inspiration. He abruptly stumbled to a halt and fell down.
“Don’t stop! Run!” he yelled at her, praying that she would trust him and do what he told her.
Thankfully, she did.
He took one of his last bombs out of the bag, and lit the fuse. It was lucky that the truck was so fucking long. And filled up to the brim with crude oil.
He tossed the explosive in the exhaust pipe, and hauled himself inside of the dumpster for cover.
The blast of the explosion made the dumpster move on its wheels. He felt the heat of the fire licking at the metal walls, and swiftly got out before it turned into an oven and he started cooking alive.
The truck had been completely destroyed. With grim satisfaction, he saw the cabin reduced to a bare, shredded piece of metal, undulating in the heat. Hopefully, the Terminator itself was in a similar state, reduced to spare parts.
Sarah, however, was nowhere to be seen. Had she been able to take cover? He’d had no time to warn her of what he was planning to do. He just hoped he hadn’t killed her along with the cyborg… He felt knots of anxiety form in his guts as he got up and started walking among the flaming debris in search of her. He finally saw her through the thick curtain of smoke, standing in the middle of the chaos, staring at a burning, shapeless heap of metal. She seemed shaken, but relatively unharmed.
He called her name, and she snapped out of her contemplation, turning to face him.
“Kyle!” she called back to him, limping towards him, looking almost as exhausted as he felt.
She opened her arms to him, and he practically fell into her embrace, his last strength leaving him.
She kept calling his name as he fell to his knees, holding onto him like a vice, half sobbing, half exulting with relief.
“We did it, Kyle. We got him!”
And for a moment, he really believed her. A wave of pure relief passed through him, so overwhelming he thought he could just die right here in her arms. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go.
But then he heard the typical shriek of metal grinding against metal, and he looked up to see a naked chrome skeleton rising among the flames, its glowing red eyes fixed on them. All the organic parts had burned away, and now all that remained was the machine underneath the human disguise.
The very image of implacable, deadly power.
There was just no end to this nightmare, was there?
He felt Sarah’s body go rigid when she turned her head and saw it too.
He staggered to his feet and pulled her up even as she was screaming furiously in refusal of what she was seeing.
They had to run.
Again.
Chapter 9: 9
Chapter Text
The Terminator had sustained some damage in the explosion. It wasn’t enough to stop it, but it was a lot slower now, dragging its left leg behind.
Sarah picked up a piece of metal from the wrecked truck and used it to smash the glass of the nearest door. At that point, all Kyle could do was follow, out of breath, his legs more and more reluctant to carry him. Once she’d unlocked the door, she dragged him inside of the building and they ran along a poorly lit corridor.
Despite its bad leg, the Terminator was gaining on them, and Kyle was painfully aware that it was because of him. Instead of helping Sarah, now he was just a burden to her, likely to get her killed. Her chances would obviously be far better without him, and she had to realize this. Yet she kept dragging him along without a word, breathing heavily under the strain.
When they finally reached the end of the corridor, the Terminator was right behind them. There was a heavy metal door, that Sarah opened with difficulty. Kyle put all his weight on it so it would open wide enough for them to get through, doing his best to ignore the agony in his arm.
Once they were both on the other side, Sarah pulled with all her strength to close the door, and Kyle locked it with the big metal bars provided for this purpose.
The Terminator was locked out, but it was relentlessly trying to get in, banging furiously against the door like a ram. Despite its weight and size, the door was already showing signs of weakness under the assault, shaking and distorting after each blow. It wouldn’t resist for long.
As they moved away from the door, Kyle realized what kind of place this was. An automated factory, very much like those Skynet used to create its ever growing army of drones, tanks and cyborgs. And he knew exactly how they could take advantage of that.
“Wait”, he said, letting go of Sarah who was still supporting him.
He staggered to the control panel and started throwing every switch he could see. Lights came on and the machinery came alive all around them.
“What are you doing?” Sarah asked impatiently, fixated on the door that the Terminator was taking down.
“Cover…”, he explained breathlessly. “so it can’t track us.”
His vision was starting to blur. The red lights of the switches were dancing and merging together on the panel.
“Come on!” she said, grabbing him by the shoulders to make him stop and propel him forward, away from the door.
That’s when his legs gave out, refusing to carry him any longer. Losing his balance, he fell backwards and landed flat on his back, unable to catch his breath, his legs like lead.
“No, Kyle!” she cried, desperate.
She knelt beside him, shaking him.
“Come on!” she screamed in his ear, one hand on his lapel and the other one between his shoulder blades, trying to lift him from the floor.
This time he managed to get the words out before he passed out:
“Leave me here.”
But she didn’t.
Next thing he knew, he was somehow sitting up with no memory how he got in that position, and she was shouting at him in a commanding voice, forcefully lifting him up.
“Move it Reese! On your feet soldier! ON! YOUR! FEET!”
Where she found the strength to pull him back up, he had no idea. She was truly coming into her own, becoming the legend she was always destined to be. He’d never admired her more than he did in that moment.
And yet he wished she wouldn’t waste all that energy on him. She needed to be smarter than this. She needed to focus on her own survival instead of risking it for his sake. He wasn’t the one with the grand destiny.
He was fully awake again, but she still had to half-carry him as they ran through the labyrinth of machinery and conveyer belts. The Terminator had finally broken through the door and was chasing them, but the moving automatons were confusing it, making it more difficult for it to spot them. They both stayed low, out of view, as they tried to find a way out.
Sarah accidentally touched a button, and suddenly the stamping-plate of a hydraulic press slammed down with a loud, echoing sound next to them.
They both froze, but there was no sign that the non-rythmic sound had attracted the Terminator. They started moving again as soon as the hydraulic press had gone back to sleep.
Kyle saw a metal pipe lying around and picked it up. It would be better than nothing if they came face to face with the cyborg.
They reached a cul-de-sac. There was a flight of stairs leading up to a catwalk, but using it would make them too visible. They had to go back. They turned around to find another path.
That’s when the Terminator appeared right in front of them, blocking their way.
They moved backwards, towards the stairs, Kyle shielding Sarah with his body. The Terminator was advancing on them, unhurried, but with inexorable resolve.
Kyle climbed the stairs, step by step, deliberately slow, hoping that Sarah would seize the opportunity to run away.
But she wasn’t running. She was still refusing to leave him behind. Her loyalty to him was touching, but ultimately pointless, bordering on foolish.
“Run, Sarah”, he told her once they’d reached the top of the stairs.
“No”, she said, staring fiercely at the Terminator.
“RUN!” he yelled at her, shoving her away, and she ran down several steps on the other side, but then she stopped again, silently imploring him.
But there was no way around it. He couldn’t run with her. He would only slow her down and get her killed. All he could do for her at this point was to buy her some time. And maybe, with a bit of luck, take the motherfucker down with him. He still had one bomb left, and he intended to put it to good use.
“Run!” he ordered her one more time, and he drew in a last reserve of energy that he didn’t know he still had to hit the Terminator repeatedly with the pipe, aiming for its head.
Of course that didn’t do anything to the cyborg. To it, his attack was hardly more than a mosquito harassing an elephant. And when it retaliated, all it took was one swing of its arm to send Kyle flying halfway down the stairs.
Which hurt like hell and made him see stars, but also gave him the perfect opening.
His face soaked in blood, he lit the bomb while the Terminator was heavily coming down the stairs, focused on Sarah.
The moment she understood what he was about to do, she finally moved, looking for cover. When the Terminator reached his level, Kyle jammed the bomb in its rib cage, and he let himself roll down the rest of the stairs to put as much distance as possible between them before the explosion.
Then there was a bright flash of light, deafening thunder, a scorching blast of air.
A new explosion of pain in his head.
And everything faded to black.
***
Peace.
Silence.
Complete darkness.
He was floating comfortably, free of pain, free of fear, free of worry.
Death wasn’t so bad, after all.
But suddenly he felt something, like a shadow above him, disturbing the quiet, relentlessly calling to him, pulling him back to the surface.
No, he begged. Don’t make me go back. Just let me go. Please, let me rest… I’m so tired… so tired… I just want to sleep...
But the shadow was pressing on him, forcing his heart back into action, blowing oxygen back into his lungs. And as his blood started pumping again, the sensations started coming back, in unbearable waves of pain. His head was pounding as if someone was repeatedly hitting him with a sledgehammer. Every breath felt like a sharp knife driven deeper and deeper between his ribs. His right arm and leg felt like they’d been crushed to a pulp, his bones ground into a million tiny splinters. Absolutely everything hurt.
“Stay with me”, the shadow was urging him. “Come on, Kyle. Open your eyes. Wake up! Wake up! Please wake up!”
He knew that voice.
His eyelids opened into slits, and agonizing light flooded into his eyes, burning them and making them water.
Sarah.
Her face was looming over him, huge and blurry, taking all the space in his field of vision.
“Kyle? Oh my god, Kyle! I thought I’d lost you!”
He felt her wet, warm lips and hands all over his face, kissing him and caressing him frenetically.
“Kyle, it’s over. It’s really over this time. We terminated the bastard. I saw the lights go off in his eyes, I crushed what was left of him under the hydraulic press. He’s dead. He’s not coming back.”
Oh.
Good.
She didn’t need him anymore, then…
He let out a relieved exhale and felt himself sinking back into oblivion.
“Kyle? KYLE?! No! No! No! Stay with me! Don’t you DARE die on me now!”
So tyrannical… Now he understood what John meant…
“Don’t leave me alone, you jerk! I need you! You hear me? I NEED YOU! Haven’t you figured it out by now? John’s our son!”
…What?
No that… that wasn’t possible… was it?
“There isn’t gonna be anybody else! I don’t want anybody else! Listen to me. I love you. I love you, all right? So please...”
Could it be true?… Did John know, all this time?... Was that why he was always so reluctant to talk about his dad… why he gave him the photograph… why he had that odd expression in his eyes, sometimes, when he looked at him… and again in that last moment, when he’d volunteered… when he’d thanked him… as if… as if...
Yes.
It all made sense, now.
And in a way, he’d always known.
That John and Sarah were the two most important people in his life. His family.
That they were his to care for and to protect.
And he didn’t want to leave them.
No, he didn’t want to abandon them.
He wasn’t going to. Not if he could do anything about it.
“That’s good. Keep breathing. Stay awake”, she encouraged him. “Help will be here soon. You just have to hold on until then, okay? Can you do that for me?”
He would do anything for her. For her and John.
Although, as it turned out, dying for them would have been so much easier than living for them.
Just the simple act of breathing was a constant battle. It felt like his heart was ready to give out at any moment. And then there was the darkness, the sweet, comfortable oblivion, threatening to swallow him whole as soon as he let his guard down.
She kept talking to him, a constant flow of words, and he tried to focus on it, to ground himself in the here and now. She was talking about the most nonsensical things, describing her favorite Disneyland attractions, and her favorite foods, and the last movies she’d seen, telling him about her roommate Ginger and her pet iguana named Pugsley, about her lousy job as a waitress and her Uni classes. She was making plans for them, talking about things they would do once he was back on his feet, places they would go to, how they would raise John together.
All the while she was holding his hand, so hard it hurt, but considering how there wasn’t a single cell in his body that didn’t hurt, it was fine. More than fine. He didn’t want her to ever let him go. He wanted to do all those things with her, even the ones that sounded silly. Maybe, especially the ones that sounded silly. And he longed to meet John again. He wondered what he would be like as a child. Wickedly clever and rebellious, if the adult version was anything to go by. It was going to be so weird, playing the part of the parent with the person he used to see as his mentor… He was glad he had some time to wrap his head around that one.
Eventually it occurred to him that Sarah wasn’t doing so well. Her face was pale and clammy. She was visibly exhausted, struggling to stay conscious herself. More than once, a wince of pain interrupted her in the middle of a sentence.
“You… injured”, he rasped.
“I’ll live”, she said with a cocky smile. “Just caught a piece of Terminator in my thigh during the explosion. It’s not bad”, she added, using his own words to reassure him.
After what felt like an eternity, they were finally discovered by a security guard doing his round. He immediately called an ambulance, and also the police.
A few more minutes of agonizing wait, and the medics appeared with the stretchers. Someone put an oxygen mask over his face, and he felt Sarah clinging to him, refusing to let go of his hand while they were taking him away.
“Wait… no… please, I need to stay with him…”, she asked them, all cockiness gone.
“There’s no room for the two of you, and you need medical attention too. You’ll ride in a different ambulance. Please let go, Miss. Your friend’s in critical condition, if you want him to make it you have to let us do our jobs.”
The last thing he saw before the drugs kicked in was her anxious, haggard face, helplessly staring at him.
Then everything disappeared in a fuzzy, white cloud, and he was dead to the world.
Chapter 10: 10
Notes:
Thank you again to everyone who left a comment or a kudo! I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the ride!
As you can probably tell if you've made it this far, from this point we are deviating from canon. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, but the important thing is to have fun with it, right? ^_^
This chapter is certainly filled with medical inaccuracies, so please kindly suspend your disbelief.
Chapter Text
He dreamed of Sarah. He dreamed of John. In his dreams they were together, mother and son, but he wasn’t with them.
One possible future… that he wasn’t a part of.
The idea filled him with sorrow.
He dreamed of the first time he met John Connor, leader of the resistance. Of the awe he’d felt when his hero’s eyes had fallen on the young boy that he was then. Of his emotion when he’d asked his name. And as he said it, unconsciously puffing out his chest, the expression in the commander’s eyes changed, almost imperceptibly. Some sort of painful recognition passed through them, as if hearing that name had triggered a sad memory. And maybe it had. Maybe he’d known one of his relatives, and seen them die. Such experiences weren’t uncommon.
In the following years, the occasions to see him again had been rare, and he couldn’t boast that he was particularly close to the man. Who could, really? And yet, John remembered him, and each time their paths crossed, he went out of his way to give him a word of encouragement or a piece of advice, to teach him something or to give him a little brainteaser to solve, to offer him a small present like a bag of candy scavenged in the ruins or a new weapon to train with. The most astonishing of these gifts had been an old photograph of John’s mother.
Kyle couldn’t understand why he would give him something like that. If he was lucky enough to have a picture of his own dead mother, he would never want to part with it, especially not to give it to some random kid. But he hadn’t asked, too happy to be granted such an incredible honor. He simply assumed that it was because he’d shown a particular interest in John’s tales about his childhood, about how his mother had taught him to prepare for the war. He promised himself to take the greatest care of it, to prove worthy of the trust his commander had bestowed upon him.
And he did. For years. And the more John told him about his mother over the years, the more hours he would spend on his spare time, lost in contemplation of the old picture, trying to decipher the distant, melancholy expression of the young woman that he couldn’t quite reconcile with the tough character John always described. She fascinated him. He admired her for her bravery and her strength, but the sadness in her eyes moved him too, deeply. And she was beautiful. More beautiful than anything he’d ever seen. If you could fall in love with a picture, then he had. No real, living girl that he knew made him feel the way she did. Yet some of them were very pretty too, and all of them had courage and strength in spades.
Maybe there was something wrong with him. If so, he didn’t really care.
He dreamed of the fateful night he finally lost the photograph. Of how he had to watch it burn into nothing, as if she was being killed a second time in front of him, and he couldn’t do anything to save her.
He dreamed of red, glowing eyes in the dark. Of the screams of terror and agony echoing in the shelter as the thing they’d mistaken for a human was butchering everyone without a shred of mercy. That was the first time he saw a T-800.
He dreamed of traveling through time. Of that small, round, claustrophobic tank he let John and the others seal him into, naked and scared despite his best efforts to suppress the fear. He wanted this, after all. He’d volunteered. And as much as he tried to pretend that he was doing it for selfless, noble reasons, that it was all for the sake of humanity’s survival, or even to repay John for everything he owed him… that wasn’t why he’d volunteered. His only thought had been of her. Of the unexpected, unique chance that he was given to meet her, to get to know the real her. And for that privilege he would gladly give up his life.
The tank was so tiny he had to crouch inside in order to fit. It was pitch black in there, and it felt like he couldn’t breathe as he waited for the others to figure out how to send him to his destination. Then finally, there was the bright, blinding light, and a roaring sound like thunder as he felt a surge of electricity coursing through his body, making every one of his muscles cramp at once. Then there was the sensation of falling, falling endlessly, the smell of something burning, the terrifying impression that it was his own skin smoking and sizzling, and then the landing itself, sudden and brutal, into the unknown.
***
When his eyes opened, he was stricken by how white and bright everything was. Immaculate, like the Heaven that the religious types still raved about in his time. Although most of his contemporaries, himself included, knew that if there was ever a god, he’d forsaken humanity on Judgment Day and left the few survivors to fight for their salvation on their own.
Was he dead, then?
Had he reached Heaven?
Or was this place something else entirely?
He tried to move, only to find that he couldn’t move at all.
He couldn’t feel his limbs. He couldn’t feel any part of his body.
He could barely turn his head.
He tried to call out for John, for Sarah, for anybody, but there was something in the way, and he couldn’t speak. His throat hurt, as if he’d screamed so much he’d torn the flesh raw.
Panic began to rise, and an irritating, high pitched sound started squeaking in his ear, loud and insistent.
Someone appeared, a woman dressed all in blue.
Not an angel.
A nurse.
Checking the angry machine beside him, she said something that he couldn’t make out. Then she bent down, talking loudly in his ear.
“Sir? Can you hear me, Sir? It’s okay. Try to calm down. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital. We’ll get the doctor for you, all right?”
Everything rushed back to him all at once. The last chase in the night, how he got shot, how he’d blown up the truck and how Sarah and him had attempted to escape through the factory. How he’d used his last bomb to blow up the Terminator, and then...
Sarah, he wanted to say. Where is Sarah?
Was she okay? Was the Terminator really gone, or did he hallucinate that part? Why wasn’t she here?
“Don’t try to speak. We had to intubate you to help you breathe.”
Doctor. Hospital. Intubation. He didn’t like the sound of that.
They needed to stay off the grid. They couldn’t afford to get stuck in one place for too long. Especially a place with files and records. It was too risky...
The nurse injected something into his IV and he felt himself sinking again, as if the bed had suddenly turned into a deep, muddy grave.
No, he tried to protest. Don’t put me under. I need to stay awake. I need to find Sarah and get the hell out of here. I need...
But it didn’t matter what he needed. He couldn’t fight this.
Everything went black.
***
When he came to again, he was in a small room, with pale pink walls covered in colorful paintings. Bright daylight was flowing from a wide window adorned with fuzzy curtains.
Sarah wasn’t here.
At least the tube in his throat was gone now. Instead there was another, smaller tube under his nose, blowing air into his nostrils. It was annoying, and he wanted to remove it, but when he tried to lift his hand it felt like his arm weighed a ton, and his numb fingers barely obeyed him. In the end he managed to do it, but the effort left him dizzy and a little queasy.
Yet he couldn’t stay in this bed. He needed to find Sarah.
So he laboriously pushed the sheet aside, rolled over, and moved one leg out of the bed, then the other. He slid gracelessly to the floor, and almost knocked himself unconscious against the nightstand. The moment his body hit the floor, he had to stifle a groan of pain. He desperately tried to get himself off the floor, but his legs were as stiff and inert as logs, and his shaky arms refused to carry his weight, no matter how much he willed them to. He remained stuck to the linoleum as if the Earth’s gravity had multiplied tenfold, dressed in nothing but a thin hospital gown that left his backside bare.
And it’s in that undignified predicament that the nurses found him.
They scolded him like a naughty child, put him back to bed, put the IV back in his arm and plugged him back to the vital signs monitor (he’d ripped it all off in his fall).
When he tried to ask for Sarah, he couldn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice. It felt like he’d swallowed shards of glass.
“Take it easy. Your vocal chords are a little damaged, you shouldn’t force on them. I’ll give you some water, okay? It will help”, one of the nurses told him.
Without caring whether he agreed or not, she stuck a plastic straw between his lips. He obediently sipped the water he was offered, because he suddenly realized that he was parched. Swallowing was painful, but he was too thirsty to let that stop him, even though the nurse kept telling him to slow down.
Far too soon for his liking, she took the straw and the water away from him.
“Sarah”, he finally managed to croak. “I need… to see… Sarah Connor.”
The two nurses exchanged a look that did nothing to reassure him.
“Your friend will come visit you soon”, one of them finally told him. “In the meantime, you have to behave, okay? No more stunts like that, or you’ll hurt yourself!”
***
His next visitor wasn’t Sarah.
It was a tall, lanky middle aged man with a white coat and unblinking blue eyes, who introduced himself as Doctor Bishop as he took a seat next to his bed.
“How are you feeling, Kyle?” he said in a calm, soothing voice, his kind eyes observing him with unnerving fixity.
He had two deep, vertical furrows under his eyes that almost looked like scars. It gave him a striking appearance.
“I’m sorry, that is your name, right? You didn’t have any ID on you when you were brought in, and we couldn’t find any information to confirm your identity, but according to your friend Sarah, your name is Kyle. Is that correct?”
“Yes”, he finally rasped, his throat still sore.
“I know you asked to see her. I couldn’t reach her directly on the phone but I left her several messages since you regained consciousness, I’m sure she’ll be here very shortly. For now, I’d like to do a few tests, if that’s all right with you?”
Kyle didn’t answer, deep in thoughts. Did she go off the radar, like he told her to? He couldn’t say he disapproved, it was the smart thing to do. Still, he couldn’t help feeling… a little disappointed. And mostly, worried. What if something bad happened to her, and he had no way to find out where she was? Not that he could do anything to help her, in his current state...
Dr Bishop interrupted his train of thoughts.
“Can you blink once for me?”
Mechanically, he did as he was told.
“Excellent! Now, look straight ahead please?” he said, immediately proceeding to blind him with the light of a tiny flashlight directed straight at his eyeballs.
“Clench your fist?”
He did what he could, but his hand was still pathetically weak. Nonetheless, the doctor seemed satisfied.
“Can you feel this?” he said, running his thumb along the arch of his foot.
“Yes.”
“Move your toes?”
It was ridiculously hard, but he managed to do it. At least it didn’t look like he’d become paraplegic. He supposed that was a relief.
“Alright. Now, I understand your throat hurts from the extubation, but I’m going to ask you a few questions, and I’ll need you to answer them. Those answers will allow me to detect any sign of lasting brain damage, such as memory loss or cognitive disorders... You see, you’ve suffered multiple head trauma, and before you were admitted here you’ve been in cardiopulmonary arrest for a little while. That means that for several minutes, your brain didn’t receive any oxygen. When something like that happens, lesions will appear in the brain. Sometimes they heal over time, and sometimes they don’t. Not to worry, though: your last CT scan came back clear. Still, we can’t rule out the possibility that we missed something on the scan. Better safe than sorry, right? So. Ready? Let’s start. What’s your full name?”
“Kyle Reese.”
“Date of birth?”
He repressed a grimace. He didn’t know. His parents hadn’t bothered to tell him for the little time they’d been alive (it wasn’t like anyone celebrated their birthdays in his time), and even if he did know, that particular piece of information wouldn’t do anything to convince the man sitting next to him that his brain was functioning properly. He’d learned his lesson with Dr Silberman. It was better to lie. This was the year 1984, and he was about 22, so…
“May 12th, 1962”, he said, trying to sound confident.
The Doctor looked at him curiously. Had he hesitated too long?
“Social security number?”
Ugh… what even was that? Some kind of registration number?
“I don’t know”, he answered, hoping that it wouldn’t be a big deal.
“I see… Address?”
“Don’t have one.”
“Alright, nevermind…”, Bishop said. “Let’s try something different, shall we? Who’s president?”
Oddly enough, history lessons hadn’t been part of his military training.
“Sorry. I don’t follow politics.”
“Really? Come, now. Even if you’re not interested in politics… You really don’t know who’s president? You’ve been living in a cave these past few years?” the doctor joked.
“Yes, I have”, he answered, straight faced.
Dr Bishop’s easy smile fell, replaced by a perplexed expression that he politely wiped from his face.
“Okay, well… Can you try and tell me what happened to you before you were admitted in this hospital?”
Kyle shot him a wary look. Was this a medical exam or an interrogation?
“I’m just checking for memory loss, Kyle. It’s often observed that people who suffer a brain injury lose the memory of the event that caused the trauma, or what happened to them immediately before. I’m not going to report any of what you tell me to the police, if that’s your concern. You’re familiar with doctor patient confidentiality, right?”
Not exactly, no.
“Right.”
“Everything you tell me as your doctor will stay between us. It can’t be used against you in court. But from what I heard, it looks like you won’t get in any trouble. I understand you and Sarah were trying to run from some kind of homicidal maniac? The man who attacked that precinct in LA?”
Kyle stared at him, uneasy. Why was he talking about the Terminator as if it was a person? Its appearance in the end couldn’t have left any room for doubt about its true nature. All the organic parts had burned away… Didn’t the police find it? Was it not dead after all? Had it escaped? Was it still after Sarah? Had it killed her?...
His heart started to race, and suddenly it felt like he couldn’t breathe. There was that irritating beeping sound again, but he could hardly hear it over the roaring in his ears.
“Kyle? Please, calm down. Take deep, slow breaths. Stop struggling. You have nothing to worry about. Whatever happened, it’s over now. You and Sarah are both safe, I promise.”
***
They must have drugged him again to put him to sleep, he thought when he woke up.
He was still in the same room, in the same bed.
Alone.
Still no Sarah.
Was she alive? Did he fail to protect her?
But she’d talked to the doctor, hadn’t she? She told him his name. The nurses too seemed to know who she was… but then they’d had that odd reaction when he’d asked for her. Like there was something important that he didn’t know, that they were afraid to tell him.
Something was wrong.
And until he knew what was going on, until he’d seen with his own eyes that Sarah was alive and well, he couldn’t trust anything these people were saying.
He needed to find her.
He needed to get out of here.
Once again, he tried to move his limbs. His legs were almost unresponsive. His arms weren’t much better. Even the slightest movement felt like a herculean effort.
What the hell was wrong with him?
“Oh, no, not again!”
One of the nurses had just come in, carrying a food tray. She dropped it on a small table and rushed to hold him back right before he fell off the bed a second time.
“ You really have to stop doing that! You want to hit your head again and die ? Can’t you see y ou’re not fit to leave your bed yet?! ”
Yes, obviously he could, but he would crawl out of this place if he had to. She must have seen the determination in his eyes, because she shook her head with a disapproving frown, muttering dark imprecations in Spanish under her breath.
“Dr Bishop will hear about this”, she threatened.
And sure enough, as soon as the doctor entered, the nurse complained to him about Kyle’s “impossible behavior”.
She was done giving him his meal by then, and she took the empty tray, walking to the door.
“We can’t watch this loco at all times! We have other patients to take care of! You talk to him, Doctor!”, she fulminated, pointing at the bed, before she disappeared through the door.
Dr Bishop watched her leave, scratching his head.
“Well… you certainly have a way of keeping us on our toes…”, he said, smiling weakly at him. “I was coming here to see if you were feeling better, but I guess I got my answer.”
He sat next to the bed again.
“Listen, Kyle, there is something I have to tell you. I’m afraid you’re not going to like it, and I was hoping to wait a little before breaking the news to you, but now I can see it’s not really helping.”
Kyle braced himself, trying to be ready for the worst.
“How long would you say you’ve been with us?”
The question took him off guard. He hadn’t really given that any thought. He’d simply assumed he’d been out for a while. A few days maybe. A week at the most.
But now that he thought about it, there were no bandages or cast that he could see on his body, and yet he was almost certain that his right arm had been broken when he got shot. And probably his leg too, when the pick up had rolled over.
Sarah’s bite mark on his hand was completely healed. He couldn’t even see a blemish. And the same went for all the other injuries he could remember.
Another thing he hadn’t really noticed until now, was how thin he was. Not just thin. Emaciated, as if he’d been starving for months. As if all his muscles had wasted away...
He suddenly had a horrible thought. It hadn’t been years, had it?
“You were brought in early in the morning on May 15th. Today is August 27th”, Bishop finally informed him.
Okay… so more like a few months, then.
It easily explained Sarah’s absence and radio silence. There was no way she would have waited so long for him to wake up. She ditched him, and took off on her own. That was what the nurses had been afraid to tell him.
At least, he hoped so.
“I’m sorry, Kyle. I know it must come to you as a bit of a shock”, Bishop said sympathetically. “You have to understand that when you were brought in, you’d suffered very serious injuries, you were on the brink of death, and we had to put you in an artificial coma in order to operate on you without killing you. We progressively stopped sedation after a month, but you only started to wake up three days ago. And you fully regained consciousness today. To be honest, we’d started to lose hope that you’d ever wake up...”
Three and a half months in a coma. No wonder he felt so weak. It would probably take weeks of rehabilitation to regain enough strength to walk out of this place. By then, it would be a miracle if he managed to track Sarah down and join her, wherever she was. And if she’d done things properly, she’d been careful to cover her tracks, which would make the endeavor all the more difficult, if not impossible.
Most likely, he’d never see her again. Or John.
Wasn’t it how it was supposed to go? John had let it slip, back then. That he’d never known his father… Now he knew why.
He fought off his growing discouragement. She’d done the smart thing. The right thing. Her priority had to be John. Protecting him. Hiding him. That was the only thing that mattered.
Yet he couldn’t help wondering why he’d bothered to survive, if this was to be the outcome. Without them, his life served no purpose.
“On a more positive note”, Bishop continued, trying to sound cheery, “you don’t have to worry about your hospital bills. It’s all been taken care of. You’re fully covered until complete recovery. So you see, you can take all the time you need to get back on your feet. I understand you want to leave this hospital as soon as possible, but for that to happen, you have to allow your body the time it needs to safely rebuild its strength. Trying to go too fast would be counterproductive. Harmful, even. So please, have mercy on your poor nurses and stop trying to fling yourself out of your bed. It’s really not doing you any good.”
Kyle almost rolled his eyes at him. Weren’t they all exaggerating a little bit? Besides, it was hardly the first time he got injured on the field. He could handle himself.
“Oh, I know”, Bishop said as if he’d spoken out loud. “I’ve seen the scars. Your body is like a map of pain. I’ve treated 40 year old war vets who are less damaged than you, and they’ve seen some serious shit. You’re just a 20 year old kid, and you look worn out like you’ve been carrying the world on your shoulders and battling a constant war your entire life. Look, I don’t know anything about your life or what you’ve been through, and it’s not my business. All I’m saying is, you need to be kinder to yourself. I promise you that you’re safe here, you can take all the time you need to heal.”
“Okay. I understand. Thank you doc”, he said, hoping that it would put an end to the sermon.
Dr Bishop stared at him, hesitant.
“I’m still waiting to hear from Sarah. But I’m sure she’ll be here very soon.”
Yeah, right.
“When she gets here, you can thank her for saving your life. If she hadn’t performed CPR to revive you, if she hadn’t kept you awake until the paramedics arrived, you wouldn’t have left that factory on a stretcher: you would have left it in a body bag. Honestly, Kyle, speaking as a medical professional, it’s a miracle that you survived. You’ve got yourself a fine girl, who obviously cares about you very much. If you want to thank her for her kindness, you need to start taking better care of yourself. If you’re not going to do it for your own sake, at least do it for her. That girl has lost enough loved ones already. She deserves to have someone who will be there for her in the difficult times ahead, don’t you think?”
Kyle blinked at him, taken aback. What did he mean by that? Had Sarah confided in him?...
“I’ll let you rest now”, the doctor said, standing up. “Tomorrow you’ll have your first physiotherapy session. Please follow your therapists’ instructions, and don’t overdo it.”
***
He was dreaming again.
He was dreaming of Sarah.
Of the feeling of her soft skin under his callous fingers.
Of the sweet smell of her hair and the salty taste of her lips.
Of her fingers tenderly running through his hair in a way that made him shiver.
He could hear her voice whispering his name, as if she was lying by his side.
He could feel her fingers lacing with his, palm to palm, and her lips kissing the back of his hand. It felt so real… as if she was really here…
He opened his eyes and she smiled at him, her eyes shining. She was sitting by his bed in the hospital room. It was night, and all the lights were out except for the bedside light that gave a faint, golden glow.
He was dreaming… right?
She squeezed his hand, pressed it against her cheek. It was warm and wet with tears.
Was this real?
No… it couldn’t be…
“Sarah?”, he murmured, his voice cracking with yearning and hope.
Her smile widened, and she made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh.
“Kyle”, she said, with that softness in her voice she always had when she pronounced his name.
And she bent forward, wrapping her arms around him, nestling her face in the crook of his neck.
He could feel the warmth and the weight of her body pressed against his. He could feel her breath against his skin, the drum of her heartbeat against his chest.
This wasn’t a dream. This was real. She was really here.
He didn’t understand how it was possible. It shouldn’t be. She should be far away, hiding… But right now, he didn’t want to think about that. Right now he was just relieved beyond words.
She was with him, she was alive, and all was well in the world.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I was in Big Bear these past few days, fixing up my mom’s cabin so I could sell it… anyway, I’m rambling, that stuff doesn’t matter.”
She broke the hug to look at him.
“There’s so much I have to tell you. But first…”
Her eyes fixed on his, she took his hand again, and guided it until it was resting against her belly.
“It’s still a bit early for you to feel him kick but… when I’m standing up, it’s starting to show.”
He gaped at her. He probably shouldn’t be surprised, and yet he was. He hadn’t quite been able to believe it until now.
“Are you…?”
“Yeah”, she said, looking almost amused by his reaction. “Meet your son. John.”
Chapter 11: 11
Summary:
We're temporarily switching POV as we focus on what happened to Sarah until now.
Also, more medical aberrations! Yay =D
Chapter Text
“Wait… no… please, I need to stay with him…”
Sarah tried desperately to hold on to Kyle. She felt like the moment she let go of him, he would slip away again, and she would lose him forever. But the paramedics were taking the stretcher away, and her injured leg didn’t allow her to stand up and follow.
“There’s no room for the two of you, and you need medical attention too. You’ll ride in a different ambulance. Please let go, miss. Your friend’s in critical condition, if you want him to make it you have to let us do our jobs.”
She knew the medic was speaking sense, but the idea of being separated from him filled her with dread. It took all her willpower to force herself to let go. And she watched, helpless, as they carried him away. She saw his eyes roll back and slowly close while they were putting a respiratory mask over his face.
“He’s in good hands”, one of the medics who’d remained with her tried to comfort her.
She noticed that they didn’t say “he’s gonna be okay”. She knew very well that nobody here could promise her that. At least they didn’t lie about it.
The moment Kyle disappeared out of sight, exhaustion fell on her like a ton of bricks.
Until now, she’d been entirely focused on keeping him alive, and that gave her the strength to keep it together. But now, the adrenaline was gone. Her thigh hurt like hell, but really, every square inch of her body felt beat up, like she’d been crushed by a steamroller.
By the time she was in the ambulance, she was barely conscious.
The trip to the hospital was kind of a blur. She was mostly aware of every bump and curve on the road, she could hear the siren, and the flashing lights were dancing like a disco ball.
She heard herself answer the medic’s questions as if somebody else had taken over. She felt separated from her body, detached, as if she wasn’t really here.
I’m in shock, she realized.
That was beginning to feel very familiar…
Once she was taken into the ER, she tried to ask about Kyle.
“Is Kyle okay?” she kept asking like a broken record, but what she really meant was: “Is he alive?”
Nobody seemed to know who she was talking about. She had to remind them that it was the man she was brought with, the one who was with her in the factory.
But even once they understood who she was referring to, they didn’t know anything.
“He’s still in surgery”, was the only answer she got.
She still had received no update on Kyle’s condition when the police came to interrogate her.
It was a disaster.
She’d just come out of her own surgery. She was half-dazed with painkillers, almost incoherent, unable to think properly about what so say – or not to say.
When they told her that her mother was found dead in her cabin in Big Bear, she almost went catatonic.
They told her that, judging by the way she was killed, it was most likely the work of the infamous “phone book killer”.
Then they started hammering her with questions: how did she escape the shootout at the station? What was she doing in Sunnyvale? Why did she and Kyle break into the factory?... She was careful to remain as vague and non-committal as possible in her answers, only telling them that Lt Traxler had helped them both escape from the station, and that they’d been running or hidind from the killer ever since.
But when one of the cops mentioned Cyberdyne, she completely dropped the ball.
She had no idea until that moment that the factory belonged to Cyberdyne. They’d just entered the nearest building to escape the Terminator, and then… And then they’d left it there, she realized in absolute horror, as she began to measure the implications.
She needed to warn them. She needed to tell them everything before Cyberdyne put their hands on the Terminator’s parts.
She thought she could convince them. There was now material proof that the Terminator was real, after all. It was impossible for them not to have seen what remained of it. They had to believe her.
But of course they didn’t.
They just looked at each other, dismissed her with a patronizing: “you’ve been through a lot, miss, you’re tired and grieving, we’ll come back later” and started to leave.
She begged them to stay and to listen. She tried to tell them, to warn them of what was to come. She was painfully reminded of Kyle, who tried so hard to convince Silberman before the shootout, and how everyone had dismissed him as a “loon”. Even her. After everything she’d seen already that night, it had felt so comforting to let all those confident, capable men assure her that it wasn’t real, that it was all in Kyle’s head, that of course there was a reasonable explanation for everything that didn’t involve time travel, evil robots or the end of the world. How easy it had been to trust them over the one person who actually had her back… How she despised herself for it now.
She’d been so weak back then, it made her sick.
Fueled by that anger, exasperated by the cops’ refusal to accept the truth, she started screaming at them in a fit of rage. They were long gone and she was still screaming when the nurses rushed to her side, restraining her and dosing her with tranquilizers.
When she woke up, the nurses treated her like a feral animal that could bite them if they got too close. She did her best to show them that the crisis was over, that she was in fact a harmless, reasonable, goody good girl.
She asked about Kyle again, but they didn’t know anything about him. They promised to ask around though, and they must have, because soon after that a doctor showed up.
“Sarah? I’m Doctor Bishop. I hear you’ve been asking about a patient of mine...”
Finally!
She straightened up on the bed, trying to decipher the man’s sympathetic expression. Was he here to give her good news or bad news?
“We managed to stabilize him, but he’s still unconscious… in an artificial coma, to be more accurate”, he informed her. “He has suffered numerous injuries, as I’m sure you already know, and we’ve treated most of them successfully, but our biggest concern is his brain trauma. Hopefully the lesions are reversible and will heal over time, but it’s impossible to tell at this point... For now, all we can do for him is maintain his brain activity to a minimum, which will give it a better chance to regenerate as it won’t have to burn energy on functions that are not strictly vital.”
Sarah swallowed nervously. She was afraid to ask what would happen to him if his brain never healed.
“I understand you were with him when the paramedics were called. You performed CPR on him, is that correct?”
“Y-yeah…”
She sure was glad she took that first aid lesson at the start of the year. She almost missed it for some stupid date…
“You did an excellent job. Without your intervention, there’s nothing the paramedics could have done for him: they would have been too late. You saved that man’s life.”
“Huh… Thanks...”
“Could you tell me, approximately, how long he stopped breathing before you were able to resuscitate him?”
“Well…”
“Knowing that would be very helpful”, he insisted.
The truth was, she didn’t know. She remembered the explosion, but she’d blacked out before she woke up with that piece of metal stuck in her thigh. How long had she been unconscious? Could be seconds. Could be minutes. Then she’d crawled back to Kyle, only to find him… dead. That’s what she’d thought in that moment.
And then before she knew it, the Terminator was chasing her again, its upper-half body crawling over Kyle to reach her. How long had it taken her to get to the hydraulic press and to crush the Terminator inside? Two, maybe three minutes? It had felt so much longer than that…
She’d almost fainted then, once she was convinced that it was all over. But instead, she went back for Kyle. She had to make sure. Crawling back to him had been a slow, excruciating effort. She’d almost lost all courage when she’d seen that he wasn’t breathing and she couldn’t find a pulse. It was probably too late by now. But she’d given it a shot anyway. She had to. She owed it to him to try everything she could to save him.
How long had she kept at it before his heart started again? She didn’t know. It had felt… long. Too long.
“I’m not sure”, she finally answered. “Somewhere between five and ten minutes?... Maybe a little longer?”
She saw Dr Bishop’s face darken, even though he tried to hide it.
She remembered what the instructor had said during the lesson. That brain damage started to appear after 5 minutes of cardiac arrest. That after 8 minutes, it was likely to be severe and permanent… That after 10 minutes, the chances of survival were low...
“It’s okay”, he said kindly. “And then, he regained consciousness?”
“Yes.”
“Did he give any sign of recognition? Did he speak to you?”
“Yeah, he did! He noticed that I was injured…”
“He did? That’s a very positive sign, Sarah. Very encouraging.”
“I-I didn’t dare to leave him to go looking for a phone, so I stayed with him and I talked to him a lot, to keep him awake, you know, because I was afraid that if he lost consciousness again he’d… he’d…”
Should she have left him to call 911? Would his chances have been better then? Did she completely fuck this up?
“That was the right call. You did very well, Sarah.”
She couldn’t help thinking that he was just saying that to make her feel better.
“Do you know of any relatives that we could contact? We haven’t been able to find any information about him so far…”
“I… I’m all he’s got.”
“I see… And the two of you are related?”
She bit her lip. It wasn’t like she could say he was the father of her unborn child. It wouldn’t even show on a pregnancy test yet.
“We’re... friends.”
She couldn’t help grimacing at how inadequate that word was. It didn’t even begin to cover what they were to each other. He’d fallen in love with her before they even met. He’d traveled through time for her. He’d given up everything he knew, sacrificed his life to protect her. He was her guardian angel. He was the love of her life.
And they’d known each other for hardly more than 24 hours…
“Can I see him?” she blurted out.
He looked a little embarrassed.
“Well… normally, given the gravity of his condition, we would only allow his closest relatives to visit him. But I suppose in such a case, we can make an exception. If your doctor thinks it’s okay for you to leave your bed, then you have my authorization.”
“Thank you, Doctor”, she said sincerely.
“But I have to warn you. When you go visit him, you may be shocked by what you see. Just keep in mind that the machines, tubes and wires are here to keep him alive. It can be impressive, but it’s still him.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
Luckily, her doctor made no difficulty. In fact, it looked like Dr Bishop had pleaded her cause for her, because she didn’t even have to ask. A nurse brought a wheelchair and pushed her all the way to the ICU.
When she saw him, she understood why Dr Bishop had felt the need to warn her. The quiet beeping of the monitors, the regular purring of the ventilator, all the tubes and electrodes he was plugged to… He was almost more machine than human now, and the irony wasn’t lost on her.
She reached for his hand, careful not to disturb any of the equipment that was keeping him alive. He had no reaction at all, not even the tiniest spasm or reflex.
She looked at his face, or what was visible of it under the big tubes of the respirator and the bandages around his head. His eyes were sunken, and even in this deep sleep he looked like he was in pain. Like a martyr in one of those old religious paintings...
“You can talk to him, you know”, the nurse told her. “There’s no telling if he can hear you… but... anyway, it can’t hurt.”
That was a nice thought, but whatever she had to tell him, she would rather do it with a minimum of privacy. Nurses and doctors were constantlty coming and going, caring for the patients.
So she kept it simple.
“Kyle… I’m here. I’ll be here until you’re well enough to leave this place. I’m not going anywhere without you. So you better fight to get better, and come back to me.”
***
After a week, she was discharged from the hospital.
She attended her mother’s funeral on crutches.
Soon enough, she was swamped in paperwork, dealing with the administrative nightmare that came with a parent’s death. At least it was a good distraction: she was far too busy to collapse under the weight of her grief.
She moved out and rented a small apartment in Sunnyvale, close to the hospital, under a false name. She visited Kyle everyday, but his condition remained the same.
She didn’t get her period. To her complete lack of surprise, the pregnancy test came back positive. She told Kyle, but of course the news didn’t magically wake him up from his coma like it would in a fairy tale or a romance movie. His hand in hers was as lifeless as ever. His face, gaunt and waxy, was like a death mask.
She sold her mother’s apartment in LA, which would give her something to live on for a while.
She went to a dog shelter and adopted Max, a German shepherd.
She bought a gun and started taking lessons at a shooting range. She also started following a computer course. If she was going to fight a war against a sentient computer, it seemed appropriate to start by learning how computers worked.
When she went back to Cyberdyne, she discovered that they’d expanded and moved to LA, to more spacious (and secure) premises. Kyle’s homemade explosives wouldn’t be enough to blow it all up now... As she looked up for more information, she learned that they'd just signed a big contract with the government.
The police never contacted her for a follow up on the case, which seemed odd. She had yet to find out what they did with the Terminator’s parts. Somehow, judging by Cyberdyne's sudden growth, she doubted that they were safely sealed as evidence.
When she went to the police station in search of information, the cop who answered her told her that they no longer had access to the file or the evidence, because the investigation had been taken over by the feds.
When she insisted, demanding to speak to whoever was in charge of the case now, he lost patience with her.
“Look, Lady, I wish I knew who to talk to. I have several friends who got killed in that shooting. Good cops. Good people. Don’t you think I want justice for them too? Don’t you think I want to nail the bastard who did this? But I can’t, because it’s out of my hands now, and those assholes don't tell us jack shit. Yeah, it sucks. Welcome to the real world, where bureaucratic bullshit gets in the way of everything.”
***
A month had passed when Dr Bishop told her that Kyle was showing notable signs of recovery.
“He still has a way to go, but at this point I feel we can begin to wake him up.”
Before she let herself get carried away with excitement, he explained the whole process. It would take several days to progressively stop the sedation that was keeping him asleep. And even then, he might not wake up at all.
“He could remain in a vegetative state, or suffer locked-in syndrome… He could have amnesia, or aphasia... or he could be perfectly fine and show no sign of cognitive disorders at all. We just have no way to know what to expect.”
She tried to manage her expectations. She really did.
He didn’t wake up.
***
Another month passed.
Kyle was still in a coma, and Dr Bishop was less and less optimistic about his prognosis.
“The thing is, the more time passes, the lower his chances are to ever regain consciousness. I think, at this point, we have to consider the possibility that he never wakes up”, he said gravely, looking at her with intolerable pity.
No.
She couldn’t accept this.
He didn’t survive for nothing.
He was a fighter, he would find his way back to her, eventually.
He had to.
She needed him to.
Because she couldn’t do this alone. She wasn’t as strong as he thought. She had no idea what she was doing. How was she supposed to teach John anything? She wasn’t a seasoned warrior like him, she barely knew anything about the future, her basic knowledge of guns and computers was ludicrous, her pathetic attempt to investigate Cyberdyne and what looked a lot like a government cover-up had yielded no results at all...
And she was so scared. Whenever she was in a crowded place, in line at the store or in the subway, she thought she saw the Terminator splitting the crowd to reach her. Every night she had nightmares that startled her awake in the dark, heart thumping, covered in sweat. Max would hop on the bed, whining and licking her face, and she would go back to sleep clinging to him, her face buried in his fur, imagining that Kyle was here instead, holding her in his arms, his soothing voice comforting her, telling her that she was safe, that he was with her, that they would figure it all out.
But most of all, she felt so unbearably, so utterly alone. She couldn’t confide in anybody, because they would immediately write her off as crazy. She had to live everyday with the terrible knowledge of humanity’s fate, and she couldn’t warn anyone about it. She had to carry that burden inside of her, unable to share it with anyone else. He was the only one who knew, the only one who understood… and he wasn’t really here.
***
Another month passed.
Everytime she came to visit Kyle, she had to face the compassionate glances from the medical staff, half of them staring at the little bump that was starting to show in her belly. She never told any of them that Kyle was the father, but of course they knew. It was easy enough to guess.
She didn’t talk to him anymore. She would just sit by his bed, holding his bony hand like a lifeline. He looked so small now, so frail… It was like looking at a different person. It was like he was wasting away, slowly disappearing in front of her.
Maybe it would have been less cruel if he’d just died. Maybe it would have been easier for her too, like a band-aid that you simply rip off once and for all. It would have been painful, yes, almost unbearable, but she would have been able to accept it and move on… Whereas this… This was like being trapped in eternal limbo, with no deliverance in sight.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
She needed a distraction. Something to do, something to get her mind off things. A spring cleaning or something.
Then she remembered her mom’s cabin in Big Bear. She'd never been able to face the idea of going back there, but she would have to, eventually, so she might as well do it now. It wasn’t like Kyle was going anywhere. Besides, it would do Max some good to run in the outdoors. The poor dog wasn’t built to stay cooped up in a small apartment all day.
She rented a car, threw a bag in the trunk with enough clothes and stuff for a trip of a few days, and they were off.
Going back there was just as horrible as she’d anticipated. Everything had been left as is. The police tape was still barring the broken door and the torn mosquito net. There was a huge bullet hole in the middle of the door… She tried not to imagine how it had happened, the terror her mom had felt.
She preferred to focus on the task at hand.
Wind, bad weather and possibly wildlife had done some damage: everything was filthy, covered in dirt and dead leaves. It would take a while to clean up.
The phone line and electricity had been cut out months ago, but it was fine. It felt good to be cut off from the rest of the world for a little while, and if she received an unwanted visit she wasn’t completely defenseless: she had Max and her gun.
It took several days to tidy up the place, throw out the trash and the things too damaged to be salvaged, put everything else into labeled boxes, get the door fixed, and see a real estate agent to put the cabin on the market.
At the end of the last day, she went into town to have dinner, and she took the opportunity to use the diner’s payphone to call the hospital and check up on Kyle.
When the nurse told her that he’d finally regained consciousness and that they’d been desperate to get in touch with her for the past three days, she almost cursed out loud.
She’d visited him almost everyday, for over three whole months. And the moment she decided to go away for a few days, that’s when he decided to wake up?! He couldn’t do that when she was there?… She wanted to hit something. It should be one of the happiest moments of her life, and she wasn’t even there.
It was an almost eight hours trip back to the hospital, and it was over 6 pm. Even if she drove well past the speed limit all the way, it was just impossible to make it in time for visiting hours. She begged the nurse to pass her Dr Bishop. She explained the situation to him, mentally praying that he wouldn’t say no to her request.
He said yes.
“Please drive safely. I’ll pass the word on to the nurse who’s at the reception desk tonight. You’ll get to see him as soon as you get here, it’s a promise.”
“Thank you Doctor. Thank you so much… for everything.”
She hung up with a shaky hand, and ran to the car.
***
It was past midnight when she finally made it to the hospital. She followed the nurse through the quiet hallways to the room where they'd recently moved him, feeling butterflies in her stomach.
After all this time, she was finally going to meet him again. The nurse on the phone had said he asked for her, so he still remembered her at least. She thought she could bear anything else that was potentially wrong with him, but if he’d forgotten about her, it would have destroyed her.
When the nurse stopped in front of his room and opened the door, she felt she wasn’t ready to face him. She’d waited so long for this, she’d prayed so hard for him to finally open his eyes and look at her… and now she was feeling nervous like a teenage girl on her first date. It was so stupid.
But to be fair, the time they had together was so short, and the circumstances were so insane, everything happened so fast… And now, after all these months, it felt unreal. And what if, as he got to know her better, he found her lacking? What if she didn’t live up to the legendary heroin he’d fantasized about all these years? What if, without the constant danger to keep them going, they found they couldn’t stand each other on a daily basis? It was a bit late to think about all that. And pointless. Because in the end, regardless of anything else, he was still the only person in the world she could trust completely, unreservedly. And wasn’t that all that really mattered?
She stepped into the dark room as the nurse turned on a light. He was asleep in his bed, but this wasn’t the deathly sleep of the comatose. There was no ventilator, no breathing tube, no annoying beeping noise. His pose was natural, like he’d moved in his sleep.
The nurse went to his side to gently wake him, but Sarah stopped her.
“Please”, she whispered. “Don’t wake him up.”
“Are you sure?” the nurse whispered back, raising her eyebrows. “I thought…”
“I… I’d like to be alone with him, if that’s okay?”
“Oh… of course… just… If you’re going to wake him up, please be careful not to startle him. He’s been a little agitated ever since he woke up.”
I’ll bet, she thought bitterly.
He must have been so confused… and so worried by her absence... Did he think she’d gotten killed? Did he think she’d left him behind?
The nurse left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her, and Sarah sat on the chair by the bed. Now he looked more like himself than he had these past few months, even though he was still terribly emaciated and pale. But he would recover his strength, she knew he would. The worst of it was over.
She listened to the sound of his calm, even breathing, so different from the mechanical, lifeless rhythm of the ventilator. She gently took his hand, and felt the muscles of his fingers twitch in response. It almost brought tears to her eyes. He was really back…
In a murmur, she called his name, softly running her fingers in his hair. She saw his eyes move behind his closed eyelids, as if he was dreaming.
She took his hand again, lacing her fingers with his, the way he had during their night together, and she raised it to her lips to kiss it.
Snow White and Sleeping Beauty had never been her favorite Disney movies. She’d always despised them a little, for depicting the heroin as this passive, weak princess whose survival depended entirely on the interest of a guy she barely knew. An old misogynist's ideal of feminity.
Now she was starting to see these stories a little differently.
His eyes opened, and fixed on her. The mix of emotions she could read in them almost broke her heart: confusion, disbelief, shock, hope, yearning, awe and ardent, disarming love…
Her tears flowed freely as she pressed his hand against her cheek, eager to feel his touch, and also to reassure him that this was real, that he wasn’t dreaming it anymore than she was.
“Sarah?” he said, his voice hoarse and weak but perfectly recognizable, with that same intonation it always had when he pronounced her name, somewhere between desperation and devotion.
That did her in.
“Kyle”, she called back, but it’s all she trusted herself to say at this point.
She felt she couldn’t control her face anymore, so she bent forward and hugged him, as gently as she could, but tightly enough for him to feel held by her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck to hide it from view, doing all she could not to break down completely.
Then words started pouring out of her as she clumsily tried to justify herself.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I was in Big Bear these past few days, fixing up my mom’s cabin so I could sell it…”
What she really meant to say was:
“Please forgive me. I should have been here. You didn’t deserve to wake up in a strange place, alone and abandoned. You deserve so much better… You deserve to feel cherished and supported. You deserve to know how important you are to me.”
But she was a mess, and she couldn’t find the proper words. Why was she even babbling about Big Bear? That meant nothing to him. He didn’t even know about her mom…
“Anyway, I’m rambling, that stuff doesn’t matter”, she said, cutting herself short before she bored him to death.
She broke the hug, sniffing back the tears.
“There’s so much I have to tell you. But first…”
Intently looking at him, she took his hand again, and guided it until it was resting against her belly.
“It’s still a bit early for you to feel him kick but… when I’m standing up, it’s starting to show.”
His eyes widened in a way that was almost comical. He looked so shocked… Which, coming from the guy who dropped on her that she was destined to be the mother of the future, had a certain irony.
“Are you…?”
“Yeah”, she confirmed. And so there was absolutely no ambiguity about it, she added:
“Meet your son. John.”
Chapter 12: 12
Notes:
My hand slipped and this chapter got a tiny little bit angstier than I'd orginally planned...
(I'm sorry)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Kyle’s hand was resting on Sarah’s belly, and he was staring at it in amazement. The fact that John was right here, growing inside her, that somehow he was his son, felt enormous, unreal. He wondered how such a thing was possible. John couldn’t exist if he didn’t travel back in time to find Sarah. But he couldn’t travel back in time if they didn’t win the war against Skynet, a feat in which John’s leadership had played an essential part. There seemed to be an inextricable paradox there, a perfect loop that had no beginning and no end.
It was maddening to think about.
And suddenly, another thought hit him : John has never known his father.
Did they change the course of events, somehow? Should he have died in that factory? Or was he supposed to die later in the coming months? Both possibilities were terrifying, each in its own way. If they'd changed the future, there was no way to predict how it would be affected in the long run. Could his survival mess up the timeline, and threaten the hard fought victory of the human resistance against Skynet? Or, on the contrary, was this their chance to save humanity from Judgment Day? There was simply no way to know at this point.
And if they were still on the path that led to the future he knew… Then what was going to kill him? Was another Terminator on its way to eliminate John in his mother's womb? Would he have to sacrifice himself (again) to ensure their survival?
The moment was lingering, and Sarah's smile began to falter.
“Aren't you… happy?” she said uncertainly, looking a little hurt by his reaction.
Should he share his concerns with her? Or would it only upset her? Judging by past experiences, he leaned toward the second option.
So he evaded, Something he wasn't particularly proud of.
“Yes, I'm happy”, he assured her, and he meant it. Because, terrifying questions aside, nothing in his life had ever come close to the sense of fulfillment and gratitude he was feeling, here with her and John. “I'm very happy. It's just… a lot.”
She was searching his face. She could probably tell he was holding something back, but she visibly chose not to pursue it.
“Yeah, tell me about it!” she replied cheerfully instead with an affectionate rub on her belly.
And as he was watching her, he was suddenly convinced that he didn't belong in this picture. That he wasn't meant to share in this bond between mother and son. That this wasn’t something he was destined to have, ever, no matter how much he longed for it.
He did his best to shake the ominous feeling, and asked her what else happened while he was out.
When she told him that the factory where they killed the Terminator actually belonged to Cyberdyne, he immediately understood the implications, and that did nothing to reassure him. Did they just give Cyberdyne a massive head start, providing them with a piece of technology 40 years ahead of its time? Or was this always supposed to happen too, like him traveling back in time?
She also told him how she'd adopted a dog and bought herself a gun for protection, how she was renting an apartment nearby under an alias, how she'd started following a computer course…
All of this was well and good, but he couldn't help thinking that if it weren't for him, she wouldn't have lingered here at all. She would be on the move right now, in Mexico or wherever else, much safer than she was here even with the precautions she'd taken. She'd allowed herself to be exposed to avoidable danger, because of him.
He wasn't sure how to feel about that. The most selfish part of him was glad that she'd stuck around so they could stay together. The soldier in him was horrified at her imprudence. He wasn't worth taking such a risk. John's safety should always be her only priority, no matter what.
“What?” she said, snapping him out of his gloomy thoughts. "You've got a look on your face, like you’re disapproving of something I said, or something.”
Was he really so transparent?
“It’s just… After all these months, I expected you to have moved on and left the country. You made yourself an easy target, staying here for so long.”
She frowned, her face hardening.
“You’re saying I should have left you behind? You would have preferred that?”
God, no. He would have been devastated. But she needed to understand...
“What I prefer is irrelevant. Your safety, John's safety, is the only thing that matters. Not me.”
“You're John's father. You matter too”, she objected, her eyes intently boring into his.
“I’ve already served my purpose.”
The moment he said it, he knew it was a mistake. Sarah’s expression at those words sent a chill down his spine.
“Okay. Well, I don’t know how you guys do it in the future, but in my world, a dad’s part consists of more than getting the woman knocked up”, she said in a cutting voice.
Shit… Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy, moving reunion? How were they already fighting?
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“No, I don’t, actually. So let me spell it out for you. John needs you. I need you. So you have to stop thinking of yourself as expendable, because there’s no way I’m doing this without you.”
“You might have to, regardless of what either of us want.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
There was no way around it. He had to tell her, or she would never get it.
“John, the John I knew in the future, he couldn’t shut up about you. Anytime he would talk about his childhood, you were there in his memories, ever present. But not his father. I wasn’t there. I don’t think I’m supposed to live long enough for him to have memories of me.”
“Well, maybe it was just too weird for him to talk about you to you…”
“No”, he said, his tone definite. “That wasn’t it. I just… wasn’t there, Sarah.”
Her lips pressed together in that mulish expression that he knew so well, because John would inherit it from her.
“Okay, let’s assume you’re right… It doesn’t mean anything now, because we changed that, right? I mean, you almost died back there. It’s not hard to imagine that in another timeline, where things went just a little bit differently… you actually died. So… we changed the future. It must be it.”
“We can’t know that for sure. For all we know, another Terminator could be on its way right now, and I’ll get killed in the next fight.”
Her eyes widened, and his heart broke at the naked distress he could see in them.
“No, she said, adamant. NO WAY. I’m not going through that again!”
“Sarah…”
“You’re wrong!”, she cried with passion. “You don’t know what’s gonna happen. Neither of us does. And I refuse to resign myself to a future where John doesn’t know his father. If it happens, then so be it. But I’m not gonna just give up and assume that it’s how it’s gotta be. ‘The future isn’t set’, remember?”
Right…
“So I don’t wanna hear anything about you not being as important as me or John, or how I should leave you behind if you get hurt or let you get yourself killed for the cause, or whatever. That’s never gonna happen, you understand? Forget it. And I’m not kidding when I say I need you, Kyle. I can’t do this on my own, I can’t.”
“You underestimate yourself.”
“Look, I don’t care what stories John fed you all these years…”
“It wasn’t stories, Sarah. It was you. The things you did.”
“Okay… well… I don’t want to do all that stuff on my own. And maybe I don’t have to. Maybe I’ll be stronger with you by my side. Ever thought of that?”
Before he had a chance to reply, there was a tentative knock on the door, and a nurse’s head appeared, looking slightly alarmed.
“Everything alright in here? I heard shouting...”
For a second, Sarah glared at her like she was going to yell at her too. But she controlled herself.
“Yeah, we’re fine”, she said. “Sorry about the noise. We were just… catching up. Got a little carried away.”
“Right. Well, Kyle has a big day tomorrow, and he needs his rest. So, maybe he’s had enough excitement for tonight…”
She trailed off, raising an eyebrow at Sarah.
“Right. Yeah. I’ll come back tomorrow, during visiting hours. Thank you again for letting me see him so late...”
She turned back to him, looking upset, even regretful. This clearly wasn’t how either of them had intended for their reunion to go.
“I’ll see you tomorrow”, she said tightly.
He hated to see her go like this. He hated to see her go at all. Having no way to know what dangers were waiting for her out there, not being able to protect her, was abhorrent to him. He felt completely useless.
She must have guessed what he was thinking, because her expression softened a little, and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she let go of it.
She rose from the chair and followed the nurse outside. The door closed behind them and he was left alone in the room, unhappy and worried.
***
He didn’t fall back to sleep after that, and took advantage of the fact that he was awake to work on the muscles of his hands, his arms, his legs and his core, repeating simple movements over and over until he felt like his body was starting to obey him again. It wasn’t enough to distract him from his thoughts, but at least it was something to do.
Morning came, slowly, and with it came the nurse who brought him breakfast. When he told her he could eat on his own, she refused to believe him. He had to demonstrate it to her by grabbing the spoon and (shakily) driving a spoonful of porridge into his mouth for her to finally agree to leave him alone.
He quickly ate the food. It was bland, tepid and soggy, but not worse than the rations he was used to. At least now he felt full.
Then he had to wait again, until another nurse came to clean him up, which wasn’t quite as humiliating as it could have been, he supposed, but still not great.
He had to wait another hour after that for the physiotherapist to finally arrive. The guy, named Brad, was overly cheerful and chatty, giving him unnecessary encouragements and congratulations at every step, calling him “Buddy” or “Champ” in every sentence. He was getting a migraine just having to listen to his constant jabber.
And it wasn’t like he actually needed him. He knew what he needed to do to recover his strength, and if anything, it seemed like Brad was actively trying to slow him down, arguing that he should take “baby steps” to avoid unpleasant setbacks. As if he could afford to just lie there and take it easy, while every passing moment brought them potentially closer to the next attack.
Eventually he was saved from Brad’s company by none other than Sarah.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back later...”
“No, please, come in!” Brad exclaimed. “You’re not interrupting at all. We were actually supposed to be finished… ohhh… over half an hour ago”, he said, checking his watch. “Man, I’m late for my next appointment. Your boyfriend’s got quite the stamina, you know. Usually I have to bend over backwards to encourage my patients to complete their exercises, but with my bud Kyle here, it’s all the reverse. I can hardly keep up with this guy!”
Sarah smiled politely while Kyle had to endure an overly friendly pat on the shoulder.
“Yeah, he’s a warrior”, she said, and he thought he heard a hint of pride in her voice.
“Yeah, that he is! Hey, something smells good in there”, Brad said, eyeing the small paper bag she was carrying. “So we’re getting our lunch delivered in bed, huh? Wow, your girl’s a keeper.”
Sarah actually blushed at this point.
“I hope that’s okay. I didn’t ask permission to Dr Bishop, but…”
“Hey, I didn’t see nothing”, Brad assured her. “You feed your man, he’s gonna need it to rebuild all that muscle. It can’t be worse for him than the junk they serve here, anyway. Alright, Bud, see you tomorrow!”
And finally, he left the room, leaving them alone.
For a second, Sarah stood awkwardly in front of the bed, looking like she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Then she moved forward, handing him the bag.
“Here. A peace offering. I don’t like the way we left things last night.”
He hated to agree with Brad, but something did smell incredible in that bag. It made his mouth water and his stomach rumble.
It wasn’t something he experienced very often. He was familiar with hunger of course, the kind of hunger that made your stomach hurt and your head spin. The kind of hunger that made your mind obsess over ways to find sustenance of any kind, just to quiet it down. But this was different. He wasn’t starving at all, he’d eaten just a few hours ago. And yet this smell made him crave food as if he hadn’t eaten anything in days. It reminded him a bit of roasted rat, a common delicacy in his world, as rats were the most abundant source of meat in the shelters and the tunnels. Except this smelled a hundred times better.
He opened the bag and discovered a sausage caught between two slices of a bun. There was other stuff inside, a sort of yellow paste and a red sauce, as well as some brownish bits of something. It was warm, and smelled even better now that it was out in the open. Was this what the elderly meant when they said food used to be ‘delicious’ before JD, and not just meant to fill your belly and keep you alive?
“Well, go ahead, eat it! Don’t just look at it!” she urged him, closely observing him.
She looked weirdly excited about this. Was he a sort of guinea pig to her? Oh well. He didn’t see the point of delaying it any further. He was very curious to know what this thing tasted like.
He bit into it and… almost hummed with pleasure. It was sooo good, unlike anything he’d ever tasted. Like an explosion of flavors in his mouth, all at once sweet, salty and spicy. And it wasn’t just the taste. It was the texture too. The softness of the bread, the hot juice of the meat popping in his mouth and the filling melting on his tongue…
“So?? You like it?” she said, practically bouncing on her seat.
‘Like’ seemed a feeble word to translate what he was feeling, but he guessed it would have to do.
He nodded enthusiastically, his mouth still full as he was literally devouring the stuff.
“What is it?” he asked as soon as he’d wolfed it down.
“A hot-dog!” she stated proudly.
He froze, trying hard not to look too horrified. The last thing he wanted was to offend her.
“It’s not… actual dog, is it?” he asked as casually as he could manage.
Her eyes widened in shock, then she shook her head heartily, suppressing a laugh.
“No, no, don’t worry, it’s not! It’s pork. Or it’s supposed to be… I mean, it’s not prime quality meat, but it’s not dog, I promise! We don’t eat dogs.”
That was a relief. He knew some folks in his time who had to resort to consuming dog meat in the face of starvation. He didn’t judge them, but he counted himself lucky that he never had to go to such lengths, because to him eating a dog was almost as bad as eating a person.
“Why do you call it ‘hot-dog’, then?”
“I’m... not sure? Maybe because the sausage looks a bit like a dachshund? Sorry, I just don’t know”, she shrugged, unbothered. “Anyway… I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’ll try to bring you something different everyday while you’re here. Could be fun! You’ll get to discover pizza, hamburger and fries, bagels, tacos, burritos, falafel, pad thai, chinese noodles… oh, and ice cream, of course!”
He honestly would have been perfectly content to just eat hot-dogs for the rest of his life, but she looked so pleased with this plan, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that. So he just gazed at her, a smile playing on the corner of his mouth, while she was enumerating all the kinds of foods that she intended for him to try. She was so adorable right now...
“Oh, I almost forgot!” she suddenly interrupted herself. “I brought you something else.”
She rummaged in her backpack and produced a small device with earphones plugged in it.
“It was Ginger’s… My roomate’s… anyway, it’s called a walkman, we use it to listen to music. I thought you might like to have that, for when you get bored. There’s already a tape inside, but I brought you a few others, so you can switch once you’re done with this one.”
“Thank you”, he said as she was handing it to him.
He was starting to feel a little overwhelmed with all the gifts. First the food, now this… Was it because she felt bad about last night? Or maybe she simply wanted him to experience all the things he’d missed from before Judgment Day...
She quickly explained all the buttons and soon he was listening, bemused, as an upbeat, rhythmic sound was blasting in his ears and a feminine voice was singing about her stormy relationship with her lover.
“Is music different in your world?” she asked once he’d pressed pause and removed the earphones.
“People still sing, and you can make an instrument out of about anything… but recorded music has been lost, for the most part. So yeah... this is a bit different from what I’m used to.”
“Do you sing?”
“No”, he said, emphatically shaking his head, which drew a malicious smile out of her.
“What’s your favorite song?”
“I don’t know… I don’t really have one…”
That non-answer obviously disappointed her.
“Or maybe… there’s something my mother used to sing, when I was little.”
“Yeah? How does it go?”
Was she asking him to sing it? Please, no…
“I… really can’t sing”, he said, uncomfortable.
“It’s okay, I’m a terrible singer too, I won’t judge!” she encouraged him.
He sighed. Apparently he was unable to refuse her anything, even that.
So he cleared his throat awkwardly and started singing the lullaby his mother used to sing to him, his voice unsteady, almost as quiet as a whisper:
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
'Til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you
If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with
If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with
All the time that the song lasted, he didn’t dare to look at her face. The moment felt far too intimate, far too personal. It was only now as he was singing it that he realized how deeply the lyrics resonated with the way he felt about her. It hadn’t been intentional, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.
By the time he was done, the mood in the room had shifted dramatically. Sarah was silent beside him, and when he finally looked into her eyes, they were staring back at him, grave and tearful.
“It’s beautiful”, she said softly.
He didn’t know what to answer, and the silence stretched heavily.
Eventually, she broke the spell.
“Listen, about last night…”
He swallowed hard.
“I don’t want to fight”, he cut her off, his eyes imploring her to just drop it.
“I don’t want to fight either”, she assured him. “I just… I’m sorry for the way I yelled at you. I know I must have sounded like a spoiled brat to you.”
He shook his head, but she continued, the words pouring out of her in an unstoppable flow:
“And I get it. I know how important the mission is, and I’m not taking it lightly. I want humanity to survive too. It’s just… I’ve spent the last three month wondering if you’d ever wake up, or if I’d lost you forever. And I also lost my mom, and my best friend… I had to cut ties with everyone else in fear that they might be targeted too… and then finally, you woke up, and I was so relieved… if I have to lose you again after all this, I… I don’t know if I can take it.”
You can. You have to, he almost said, but he understood now those weren’t the words she needed from him.
“I don’t want you to lose me either”, he said instead. “I don’t want to die, Sarah. I want to be with you, and to see John grow up. I want to be there for you both. I want it more than anything. And you have my word that I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.”
She let out a deep exhale, looking like a heavy weight had just been removed from her shoulders. Next thing he knew, her arms were wrapped around his neck and she was hugging him tightly, as if she never intended to let go.
“I love you”, she sobbed in his ear, and he closed his eyes.
“I love you too. I always will.”
She kissed him relentlessly, on his neck, on the side of his face, on his lips, on his temple, showering him with affection.
“I need you”, she whispered between two kisses, and the raw confession twisted his guts.
“I’ll always be with you”, he promised her, and the words almost felt like a betrayal, because although they were true, he knew he didn’t mean them quite in the way she hoped.
At least they brought her the solace she needed in that moment. She loosened her grip to look at him, her cheeks covered in tears, and she let her forehead rest against his, relaxing in his arms as he was cradling her.
Notes:
the song : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9h1davKgBYM
and another deleted scene I used, this time from T2's director's cut : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IViWb4ojuHE
Chapter 13: 13
Chapter Text
It took him a week before he was able to stand on his two feet without aid and to start walking again. He was still weak, and his legs couldn’t support him for more than ten minutes or so before they started to get wobbly. He wouldn’t be able to run from Terminators just yet, and luckily it appeared he didn’t have to, at least for now.
In the meantime, he did appreciate the limited freedom his progress granted him: now he could finally shower on his own and wander out of his room whenever he felt like it. And it wasn’t one moment too soon, because staying cooped up in that place was starting to drive him nuts. Sarah was here every day and she kept him company for as long as she was allowed, and when she wasn’t here he kept himself busy with exercise. But even like that he was bored out of his mind, and nurses came and went at any time, leaving him no privacy whatsoever. He wished he could just leave and go with Sarah so he didn’t have to spend half the time wondering if she was okay or if she was being hunted down by a deadly cyborg, but Brad and Dr Bishop were both against it, and to his dismay Sarah seemed to agree with them.
His old self would have easily slipped away before anyone had noticed anything, and done whatever he wanted. But in his present state, that was simply impossible. He hated how diminished he was. He hated how despite his continuous efforts to build back his strength, the process was still unbearably slow. And if he pushed himself any harder to speed it up, his muscles cramped up painfully, forcing him to a halt and slowing him down even more. It was beyond frustrating.
And then there were the migraines. As it turned out, they had nothing to do with Brad and everything to do with his damaged brain. They could happen at any time without warning, and they ranged from mild inconvenience to blinding, incapacitating flashes of pain that made him feel like his skull was being cracked open. The worst ones could even cause him to pass out. According to Dr Bishop, it was likely he would have to live with them for the rest of his life. So… there was that.
In the midst of all this, Sarah was doing her best to distract him and to cheer him up. She made good on her promise to bring him new kinds of food everyday, expanding his culinary horizons. A nurse caught them once, and she made a fuss, but Dr Bishop didn’t care, so they continued openly, sharing all their meals in his room or, once he was able to move around, in the cafeteria downstairs.
He listened to all the music she brought him, and one day she even came with a small radio that she left by his bed so he could listen to it all day. He discovered that there was a variety of stations and programs on there, and not just music. It was a small window into the world out there, her world, that was now his world too… that concept was still weird to wrap his head around. Everything still felt alien to him in this time, and he suspected that feeling would never go away, no matter how long he lived here.
In the TV room downstairs, he also discovered the television. He soon realized that the screen had some sort of hypnotic effect. If he wasn’t careful, he could stay in front of it for hours, completely absorbed in colorful entertainment shows or commercials featuring women in bikinis sitting on shiny car hoods, fascinated in spite of himself and forgetting that he had better things to do. Apathy was threatening to set in, and once he became aware of the danger, he decided that it was best not to spend too much time watching that thing. When he told Sarah, she seemed greatly amused by his reaction, but assured him that he was absolutely right.
“It’s got nothing to do with the real world, anyway. You’re not gonna learn anything useful watching dumb talk shows and sitcoms.”
Other than food and music, she brought him clothes. Except for the sneakers, the ones he’d been wearing before had apparently been destroyed while he was admitted in the ER (not a big loss, he was given to understand). She replaced them with a pair of camo pants and a couple of tee-shirts that she got at a military surplus store. She also found him a coat very similar to the one he’d picked up at the store on the first night of his arrival. He was grateful for her thoughtfulness, and especially relieved that she hadn’t picked the kind of garish things everyone here seemed to wear. As it were, her choices had been perfect.
One day she also brought the file she’d compiled on Cyberdyne. He was impressed by her dedication. She’d photographed the building from all angles, spotted every surveillance camera and every electronic door in the hallway, even found out the names of the heads of the different programs… But despite her valiant efforts, the data she’d gathered was pretty much useless. Assuming the remnants of the Terminator were kept in that building, they had no clue about their exact location, and with just the two of them and no proper gear, there was no way they could break into the place and destroy everything. It was too big, and too heavily secured.
They both agreed that they needed a lot more firepower than they could currently gather. They’d need to find a way to stock up on weapons and explosives before they made their move. And also, he didn’t think that Sarah should be part of the operation, at least not while she was pregnant with John. But he didn’t tell her that, because he had a feeling she wouldn’t take it well.
They made plans for the future. They would leave Sunnyvale as soon as his condition allowed it. She started to make preparations for a quick departure and a new life off the grid, and he left the choice of their destination to her. She suggested that they headed south for a start, then they would see as they went along. He didn’t comment on it. But he hadn’t forgotten that John was born near the Mexican border… so far, everything seemed to be following the same path.
She borrowed a manual at the library and they started to learn Spanish together. Ever the organized one, she scribbled in a little notebook the most common sentences they would need to use for everyday situations: greetings, asking for directions, etc.
She was already five months along when Dr Bishop finally agreed to let him leave. At this point, he’d recovered enough strength to accomplish most of everyday activities, but it was still a far cry from his former physical condition. Brad joked that he wouldn’t be running a marathon tomorrow, but he had no doubt that if he kept up his training with the same enthusiasm he’d shown so far, he would be back in shape in no time.
The migraines were still an issue, but other than prescribing him painkillers, Dr Bishop had no solution to offer. So Kyle just had to accept that they were now a factor he would have to contend with. At least he was no longer an invalid, and that was the main thing.
He had Sarah’s hand in his when he stepped outside of the hospital for the first time. The October morning sky above their heads was a vibrant blue, and he felt a mix of excitement and trepidation as he contemplated the next step of their journey together.
He was relieved that he wouldn’t have to be separated from her anymore, and that he wouldn’t have to spend agonizing hours every night wondering if she was still going to be alive come morning. He was relieved that they were finally going to be on the move, and not sitting around waiting to be found. When Sarah passed him a gun and he felt its reassuring weight in his hand, he stopped feeling naked for the first time ever since he woke up.
But there was still this nagging feeling, this obnoxious little voice in the back of his head telling him that his days with her were numbered. That he wouldn’t make it long enough to see John being born. That he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise to her, that she would have to lose him and face her destiny alone, as she was always meant to.
He hoped with every fiber of his being that he was wrong. But life had taught him to always be prepared for the most pessimistic outcome, as it was generally the most likely.
Of course, there were a few exceptions. Skynet’s defeat being the most notable of all… so maybe it wasn’t completely unreasonable to hope after all, in spite of every sign pointing to the contrary.
The future is not set.
John had made him memorize that message to Sarah, and she had clung to it with all her might, giving it more meaning than he would have ever imagined when he’d repeated it to her. He had to believe that John had chosen those words for a reason. And he knew for a fact that he never did anything in vain. John Connor was always thinking one step ahead.
Sarah’s Jeep was waiting for them. It was a beat-up old thing that she’d gotten for a cheap price, just for this trip. As they approached, her dog leapt out of the vehicle to greet them. It was the first time Kyle met Max (dogs weren’t allowed in the hospital) but he only had to extend his hand to let the dog take a whiff, and Max immediately let him pet him. In the space of two seconds it was as if they’d always been best pals.
Sarah took the driver’s seat, and he rode shotgun. Max obediently sat in the back, next to a heap of bags and boxes that contained the totality of Sarah’s belongings.
“Ready?” she asked him, beaming.
“As I’ll ever be”, he replied, and her expression was so infectious he couldn’t help but smile back at her.
She started the car, and they left the parking lot.
It was strange to think that he’d spent the past five months in this place. Maybe he should have been more appreciative of the safe haven that he’d found here all this time, and of the people who had patiently cared for him. Dr Bishop could be a little odd, and sometimes Kyle had the disturbing feeling that he understood more than he let on, or maybe he was just being paranoid. The nurses could be annoying, and Brad could be a bit ridiculous, but they’d all been kind to him. And he knew he hadn’t been the easiest patient to put up with.
He hadn’t meant to be so difficult. It’s just that their world was so fundamentally different, so disconnected from his own reality, that sometimes the frustration became too much. Brad could never understand that it was literally a matter of life and death for him to get back on his feet as quickly as possible, and that it had nothing to do with his sense of self worth or whatever the hell the physiotherapist was going on about in his neverending pep talks. As for the nurses, they treated him like a turbulent child, hung up on routines and rules that were supremely important to them but made no sense to him and kept getting in his way. It was all so maddening it made him want to scream. At times he’d truly felt like he was losing his mind. If Sarah hadn’t been there to help him through it all, he might have.
He didn’t notice right away that instead of going south, they were going west. Once he was sure they’d changed course, he looked at Sarah questioningly.
“Where are we going?”
“Just taking a little detour. There’s something I’d like to show you.”
“What?”
“It’s a surprise”, she retorted, giving him a teasing look.
He sat back in his seat, doing his best to relax, which wasn’t something that came to him easily. He let his eyes wander on the scenery. After Woodside, the city had completely disappeared, and now they were driving in the open wilderness: hills as far as the eyes could see, covered in a succession of woods and meadows. A beautiful, serene landscape. So much green… so much life… He was sure he would never get used to this.
There was very little traffic on this winding road lost in the middle of nowhere. But suddenly the sound of a motorbike behind them startled him and his eyes snapped to the rear view mirror, his fingers tensing on the gun tucked in his pocket.
There was a biker gaining on them, driving a Harley. Heavily built. Tall. All dressed in black leather, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Kyle watched attentively as he approached. But instead of drawing a weapon to attack them, the biker moved to the left, accelerated and overtook them, his long beard and hair flying in the wind.
It wasn’t a Terminator. Just a biker enjoying the open road, already disappearing behind the trees in the curve ahead.
They exchanged a tense look, then Sarah wordlessly put her eyes back on the road.
They’d both thought the same thing. They were both haunted by the same memory, the same fear to relive their shared nightmare.
With shaky fingers, Sarah reached forward and turned on the radio.
Every breath you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break, every step you take
I'll be watchin' you
She swore under her breath and changed it to another station.
Bad to the bone
Bad to the bone
B-B-B-B-Bad
B-B-B-B-Bad
B-B-B-B-Bad
Bad to the bone
She changed it again.
Yeah-yeah, some folks inherit star-spangled eyes
Hoo, they send you down to war, Lord
And when you ask 'em, "How much should we give?"
Hoo, they only answer, "More, more, more, more"
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no military son, son, Lord
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, one
She left the radio alone eventually, but he could tell she was still agitated.
“It’s unlikely that anything’s gonna find us out here”, he told her, sounding much calmer than he felt. “This place is too random. And if a Terminator had been following us since the hospital it would have attacked us by now.”
He was stating the obvious and they both knew it, but she gave him a grateful look all the same.
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I’m freaking out over nothing.”
He didn’t think she was freaking out over nothing (and if she was, then he wasn’t faring any better), and he didn’t see any reason for her to apologize, but he thought better not to insist. He tried to distract her instead.
“So, about that surprise. Is it far?”
He could tell by the glance she gave him that she was seeing right through the ruse, but she played along.
“Not very. It’s about an hour away from Sunnyvale. I think we’re halfway through.”
“Can I guess what it is?”
“You can try”, she said, giving him a challenging smile.
So they were playing a game, now, apparently. At least they weren’t shaking in their boots over imaginary Terminators anymore.
He tried to think. They were literally in the middle of nowhere, on a road called “La Honda”. The place was as wild and deserted as could be, except for the occasional ranch or hamlet. Did she just want to show him the beautiful trees and meadows of these parts before they headed for the Mexican desert? Did she want him to pet a cow or ride a horse? He’d seen some shows about cow-boys on TV…
He took several guesses, but each time she just shook her head, smiling smugly.
Maybe he was on the wrong track entirely. Could this be the way to Disneyland? He remembered she’d been pretty intense about going to that place together.
When he suggested that, she laughed.
“No, Disneyland’s further south, near LA. But now that you mention it, that could have been a great place to go too!… Though I’ve got a feeling you wouldn’t be much into it”, she sighed sadly.
She left La Honda Road to turn left on Pescadero Creek Road while he was still racking his mind.
He was starting to be out of ideas. His geography of the world before JD was still a bit fuzzy, and he was beginning to regret that he hadn’t paid more attention to the maps she’d opened in front of him when they’d plotted their itinerary. But to be fair, he’d focused more on the parts of California close to Mexico, since that was their intended destination…
Then it came back to him. There was nothing west of San Jose. Nothing but the wilderness, and then… the Pacific.
“Are we going to the ocean?”
Her face lit up, and he had his answer.
The ocean still existed in his time, but he’d only seen it by night. His memory of the shore was one of pure desolation. Cement rubble and twisted metal, trash, ashes and bones mixed with the vitrified sand. And a black, sterile, oppressive pool perpetually lapping on it, occasionally bringing ashore bloated corpses of people who’d drowned or gotten shot while they attempted to escape from the machines.
Not really something to get excited about.
But that was then, and this was now. He’d seen images of the beach on TV. The incredible colors of the sunset on the water. The sunlight shimmering on the surface of the waves, and people playing in the water, swimming, surfing, sailing, tossing a ball or a frisbee around, building castles in the golden sand…
He could see why Sarah would think it was an enjoyable thing for him to experience, and he was determined to show his appreciation, even though he wasn’t feeling all that thrilled.
Eventually they reached the coast, and he saw it.
A vast, blue expanse, blending with the sky in the horizon.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sarah said, clearly expecting him to share her awe.
Yes, it was. Undeniably.
And it was neither dead or empty. Flocks of seabirds were flying over it, calling and cackling. Sails were visible in the distance, sliding on the water, white and shiny. Clumps of vegetation were growing on top of the cliffs and the dunes.
“I thought it would do you good to spend some time outdoors after all this time cooped up in the hospital. This is a great place for hiking and observing wildlife, and it’s not as crowded as most beaches are, so we’ll have it practically all to ourselves. I’ve been here a few times when I was a kid… My dad was in his birdwatching phase.”
She drove along the shore towards the north, keeping it in full view until they reached a parking lot. A sign announced “Pescadero State Beach”.
They got out of the car, Max excitedly running and jumping around her as she retrieved two heavy looking bags from the rear.
“Let me”, Kyle said, taking them both from her.
He needed the exercise, especially after spending so long sitting in a car doing nothing.
“Be my guest”, she shrugged, knowing better than to coddle him. “Less work for me!”
They walked down a path that led to the beach. Their feet sank deep into the wet sand and the wind was slapping their faces, carrying a sulfury smell that reminded him of the sewers.
“It’s low tide”, she explained, catching his grimace. “The smell comes from the seaweed… you get used to it.”
They walked for a while, and he couldn’t help but admire the majestic scenery around him, just as he had another morning, that seemed so long ago now, when they’d come out of the tunnel. This was different, but just as breathtaking, if not more. Caught between the cliffs towering above them and the infinity of the ocean, he felt as small as an ant.
Eventually, Sarah found a suitable spot for them to set camp, sheltered from the wind, where the sand was dry and warm.
She opened one of the bags, and took out a large towel that she spread on the sand for them to sit on. Obviously following a protocol that stemmed from a long practiced habit, she removed her shoes and socks, rolled up her jeans to uncover her calves, then took out a small bottle from the bag and started applying a white paste on every bit of bare skin on her body.
“It’s sunblock. It’s used to prevent sunburns. You should put it on too”, she commanded, handing him the bottle.
She was the expert, and he certainly wasn’t going to argue. He was already starting to feel a tingle on his cheeks and forehead where the sun was hitting his skin. He’d felt cold when they’d walked down the path, but now he was getting hot. He removed his shoes and his coat, transferring the gun into the waistband of his pants, and generously covered himself in sunblock. He knew things were different here, but he’d seen enough of the ravages of radiations to take such precautions seriously.
“What now?” he asked once he was done.
“Well, we can either explore the beach and the creek, or go on a trail in the marshes. Or you can play with Max if you prefer, or jog along the shore… I don’t advise going for a swim, the water’s always cold here, and the currents are pretty strong.”
He hesitated to confess to her that he didn’t know how to swim anyway. He just never had the opportunity to learn. He stared at the waves, thinking of the dead bodies he’d seen on another beach, in another life. He could have easily been one of them, if fate hadn’t decided otherwise.
He shook himself out of the morbid thoughts, and looked back at Sarah, who was getting back up, her movements hindered by her growing belly. He gave her his arm to help her, and she smiled warmly at him.
“So, what do you want to do?”
They went exploring the tide pools and the rocky formations, tossing a branch of driftwood for Max to fetch as they progressed along the beach. It soon became evident that the place was teeming with life. Not just birds and vegetation, but all sorts of small crustaceans, shellfish and other little creatures that they could observe in the ponds and the mud. When they walked in the water up to mid-calf, he caught a glimpse of tiny fish that fled swiftly as soon as he’d spotted them. They even saw a group of seals, lazily taking the sun on top of a distant rock surrounded with water. The placid animals watched, indifferent, as Max was barking at them.
In a few years, all this would be gone. Unless they found a way to stop it, the ocean, like the rest of the planet, would become an immense graveyard devoid of life.
They were both tired when they got back to their little camp. Sarah poured water in a bowl for Max, who eagerly lapped at it. Then, with a contented sigh, she sat back on the towel, and she opened the second bag, which, as it turned out, was a cooler filled up with food, drinks and ice packs.
“Man, I’m starving”, she declared, taking out a pair of sandwiches wrapped in aluminum. “That’s for me”, she said, putting down a can of iced tea next to her. “And that’s for you”, she added, handing him a different can, that read ‘Sierra Nevada’.
“What’s that?” he asked, wondering why they weren’t drinking the same thing.
Until now, everytime she’d brought him a meal to share, they’d eaten and drunk the same things.
“Beer”, she announced, waggling her eyebrows at him. “I can’t drink booze cause I’m pregnant, and I couldn’t really bring you some in the hospital or your nurses would have flayed me alive… But now you can drink it.”
Alcoholic beverages were a rare treat in his world. Occasionally you could scavenge some in the ruins, but brewing or distilling any was strictly forbidden. Food was scarce enough as it was. Growing anything underground took up a huge amount of resources, and misappropriating those resources to make moonshine was considered a very serious crime. And since there were no prisons in the shelters, you were simply banished and left to fend for yourself on the surface, where the H-Ks quickly found you.
As a result, Kyle could count on the fingers of one hand the occasions he’d had to drink. All of those had been with his teammates, in celebration of a significant victory or because John wanted to boost the morale of his troops.
He opened the can and took a first sip, almost reverently. The liquid was fresh and bitter, and yet it made him feel warm inside as it went down his throat and filled his stomach. A second sip quickly followed. And then a third. He was getting pleasantly fuzzy.
He caught Sarah observing him, her eyes glinting with amusement.
“So… I take it you like beer?”
In answer, he gave her a bright, genuine smile.
“Hmm… We’ll have to get you properly shitfaced one of these days. I bet you’re a cute drunk.”
Actually, he didn’t know if he liked the idea. Enjoying a beer was one thing, but getting fully drunk meant losing control of himself, dulling his reflexes, slowing down his reactions, possibly even blacking out. It didn’t seem wise. He needed to stay alert at all times in case of another attack. It was bad enough that he’d barely recovered a fraction of his full strength since the coma, not to mention the crippling migraines…
When she saw his smile fade, Sarah immediately understood she’d said the wrong thing.
“Or not”, she hastily corrected herself. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to. I just thought… it could be fun. Help you loosen up a bit, you know...”
“Sure”, he said noncommittally.
He knew she meant well, and truly he was grateful for her continuous efforts to make him feel more at home in her world. But he couldn’t afford to let himself get lulled into a false sense of security. If she or John got hurt because of his negligence… No. He would never let that happen.
She quickly changed the subject, trying to keep things light. As he took his first bite from his sandwich, she explained to him that today’s meal was a staple of American cuisine: PB&J.
He could only agree that it was, yet again, an absolute delight, and he made sure to let her know.
The sun was hiding behind a thick cloud by the time they finished their picnic, and the temperature had dropped significantly. Sarah shivered next to him.
“Cold?” he asked her.
“Freezing”, she replied, casting him a knowing look.
He smiled fondly at the callback, and opened his arms to her. She immediately came to nestle into his embrace, her back pressed against him, as he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, his fingers laced with hers on top of her round belly.
Conversations could be tricky, but this felt as natural as breathing. No matter their disagreements, they always found peace in each other’s touch.
They remained silent for a while, simply enjoying the moment.
His eyes fell on the water. The tide was rising, and the waves were closer and stronger than before. He lost himself in their constant coming and going, observing their pattern. Despite the repetitive nature on the movement, each new wave was different from the ones that came before, advancing a little further, gaining on the shore and carrying a trail of sand in its wake as it retreated. They were slowly reshaping the beach, filling the holes left by their feet, smoothing them out and erasing all trace of their intrusion to restore the shore to a virginal, inviolate state. Maybe time loops were a bit like that. Maybe each new iteration was similar and yet different from the last, shaping a new future and healing it, little by little.
“You know, this is actually the first thing we’ve done that qualifies as a date”, Sarah mused, idly caressing his hand. “Of course, usually the first date happens before expecting a baby together, but I guess whacked chronology is kind of our thing...”
Funny how their inner thoughts could come from such different places and yet end up on a similar topic.
He tenderly kissed her temple, and she turned her head to face him, brushing her nose against him. She put her lips on his, and he could taste the salt of the sea on them. He kissed her back, pulling her in, stroking her face, and she melted into him.
They’d had loving moments during his stay at the hospital, but they couldn’t get too intimate, as the comings and goings of the nurses tended to be unpredictable. Part of him suspected that they kept interrupting them on purpose.
But there were no nurses here.
There was no one here but them.
They deepened the kiss, and he let his hands explore her body under her shirt. Obviously the pregnancy had changed her, and she kept deploring how “fat” she was becoming, but to him she was as lovely as ever. He enjoyed how full her breasts felt in his palms. How soft her body was under his caresses. He loved to feel John moving inside her belly.
Sarah’s hold on him was becoming more pressing, more demanding. She wanted him as achingly as he wanted her, and it had been so long, for both of them…
They fell back on the towel, pushing aside the bags and shoes that were in their way. Getting drunk on each other’s smell, and taste, and touch, they kept caressing and kissing each other, eagerly, as if to make up for all the lost time.
While his face was buried in her hair, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on the side of her neck, he felt her deft fingers removing the gun from his waistband and opening his fly. He didn’t want to hurt her or the baby, so he let her guide him inside her and set her own pace.
It still felt miraculous, to get to be with her like this. And to know that John was here too made it even more special. It felt as if the three of them were finally reunited as they should be, finally whole.
He wished he could freeze this moment in time, and make it last forever. But nothing ever does, and the tide was still rising. The waves were practically at their feet, droplets of sea spray splashing them, when they reached their climax together.
Then, hastily, they had to break the embrace and gather their things before they got soaked and swept away. They walked along the cliffs to join the path that led back to the parking lot. Max followed them, emerging from the rocks he’d been exploring.
They got back into the Jeep, and this time, they headed south.
Chapter 14: 14
Notes:
And this will be the final chapter on this little fic!
Thank you again to everyone who left a kudo or a comment. I honestly wouldn't have made it this far without your encouragements. I hope you'll enjoy this ending.
Chapter Text
For a while they wander from place to place, never staying more than a week in the same town. They tend to avoid the big cities and the places crowded with tourists: a Terminator would be harder to spot in a crowd, and running away from it would be made more difficult too.
They spend the nights in cheap motel rooms or camping out in the desert.
Everytime they arrive in a new place, Sarah amuses herself, giving them new names and a whole backstory. One time they’re Linda and Michael, and they work in the movies (she’s an on-set caterer, he’s a stuntman), one time they’re Ellen and Dwayne: he’s an ex marine and she works in an exotic pet shop, etc.
Kyle focuses on getting back in shape, and he spends most of his waking hours training. Sarah can’t train as hard as him with her belly getting bigger everyday, but she manifests a clear interest in combat and he teaches her a few moves of self defense, for a start. She also practices shooting in the desert. He teaches her about all the different weapons (they’re starting to collect different models of guns and rifles). He also teaches her more about explosives and everything he knows about electronics and hacking, about picking locks and getting out of cuffs... She’s an eager student, and a fast learner.
Sometimes, he wakes up in the middle of the night at the sound of her muffled moans. He gently wakes her up from the nightmare and comforts her. She clings to him like he’s her anchor as she drifts back to sleep.
Sometimes, a migraine drills into his skull, so overwhelming he sinks to the ground, forced to stop whatever he was doing and to wait until the wave has passed. She helps him to take his pills and she holds him, softly stroking his hair until the pain is gone.
It’s november 10th when it happens. They’ve stopped at a gas station, and Kyle has gone inside to get some food, drinks and other supplies while Sarah is filling the car up. By the time he comes back, he sees it lying neglectfully on the dashboard, stuck under her tape recorder (she’s taken the habit of recording herself, she says it helps her to get things straight). For a moment he just stares at it, unable to fully comprehend what he’s looking at.
“Are you okay?” Sarah asks him, sounding worried. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost…”
It is a ghost. A ghost from his past, long lost, something he never expected to see again. And yet here it is…
In hindsight, he should have guessed this might happen. Her clothes would have been unrecognizable, but he did notice that ever since they’ve been driving around in the desert she’s started to wear that scarf rolled around her head. Still, it’s a bit of a shock.
He reaches out and takes it delicately, his fingers shaking so hard it almost gets blown away by the wind.
For a moment, all he can do is look at it, speechless, his index tracing her face on the shiny surface of the tiny, square piece of paper.
“It’s just a picture that a kid took while I was waiting for you…”, she starts to explain.
Then, she suddenly understands:
“Is this… is it the one…?”
“Yes.”
And no.
It’s the same picture in almost every way, although instead of being old, torn and faded, it’s brand new. The Jeep, Max behind her, her looking in the distance at something she alone can see… It’s all the same, an image intimately familiar to him. Except for one crucial detail. Her expression isn’t sad. It’s… hopeful. Determined. Confident, even. Like she’s looking ahead at a future full of possibilities. Like she firmly believes they’re going to win the fight and prevent Judgment Day.
That’s what shocks him the most about it. It’s different. It finally hits him like a punch in the gut. They changed it. They really changed the course of events, at least in a small way. This past is no longer the one that came before him. It’s not the one that John (his John, “future John”) was born into. And it means that from this point on, anything is possible. They’re in uncharted territory, shaping a new future as they go, a future where Skynet never comes to be, hopefully. A future where Judgment Day and the war never happen, where John never has to become leader of the Resistance. A future where Kyle Reese is never sent back in time to meet Sarah Connor and father the savior of mankind… A future that will break the loop.
It’s dizzying.
And a little terrifying, if he’s being completely honest.
But also… so incredibly wonderful.
Because now he knows things don’t have to go the same way. He doesn’t have to live every moment with her expecting it to be the last before something terrible happens and tears them apart forever. He can stay with her, see John grow up and be a father to him. He’s free of his fate.
He’s so relieved, so happy he feels like his chest is going to burst.
***
Night has fallen on the desert. Above their heads, the stars shine bright in the firmament, and the little sparks from the campfire look like tiny shooting stars. They’re huddled in the sleeping bag, Max curled up at their feet, raising his ears and growling whenever he hears a pack of coyotes howling in the distance.
Kyle is barely aware that his hand is resting on Sarah’s stomach. It’s such an ingrained habit now, he just does it without thinking.
Everytime he feels the baby move, it feels like a small miracle is happening. And it is a miracle, in so many ways…
He feels Sarah staring at him before he even looks up at her face. He catches her expression before she has the time to change it.
Ever since he told her about the picture, it keeps happening. He catches her looking at him with that strange expression, and each time he asks her what’s on her mind, she evades.
He knows he shouldn’t press her. She doesn’t have to share her every thought with him. Still, that look worries him. It makes him feel like maybe he did something wrong. And if that’s the case, he’d like to know what he’s done so he can rectify his behavior, otherwise he might do it again without knowing it.
“What is it?” he asks, searching her face in the dark.
“Nothing”, she says hastily, sounding almost guilty.
“Please tell me. You’ve been weird all week. Is it something I said?”
“Oh, Sweetie no, of course not! It’s just…”
But she just trails off, never finishing her sentence.
“Just what?”
She bites her lip, looking away, towards the fire.
“I don’t want to upset you.”
Okay, well now he’s getting really worried.
“Why would I get upset?”
“It’s just a stupid thought I’ve had lately. Ever since the photograph, I realized… you really should have died back then. In the factory.”
Oh. Is that all?
“Yeah”, he says, relieved. “But I didn’t. I’m still here.”
Obviously.
But then her eyes dart back to him, direct and grave.
“Do you ever… resent him?”
That question came flying out of nowhere, and for a moment he struggles to understand who she’s referring to. Then, to his shock, he understands she means John.
“Why would I resent him?” he says, genuinely baffled.
“Well… You know. When he sent you in the past, he must have known you were his father. And as far as he knew, you were gonna get killed. So… when you really think about it, he… huh… gave you that picture, knowing exactly what would happen, and then he sent you to your death… just so he could exist… it’s all… so deeply fucked up…”
He frowns, trying to follow her reasoning.
“I mean… you’d have every right to feel… manipulated or… or used, or…”
“I don’t”, he replies unequivocally.
“You… you don’t?” she repeats in a small voice.
“No. He did what he had to do. He needed to exist. The world needed him to exist. And I always knew what my chances were. I was ready to give my life for John Connor long before I was sent back in time.”
“Okay, but, there’s a difference between dying on a battlefield and…”
“Not really. Not for me.”
“Even though he hid the truth from you?” she insists, her eyes searching his.
“There was no other way. If he’d told me the truth, then…”
Could he still have fallen in love with her, if he knew in advance what was supposed to happen? Maybe, but then everything would have felt so forced, so insincere, so… warped... Like he was using her. Like he was just following a script or… following orders. He would have hated to be put in that position. He’s not even sure that he could have gone through with it, even knowing that the fate of the world was at stake.
So he understands why John kept his secret all these years. And he feels truly sorry for him, because now he can imagine what kind of pain and loneliness must come with such a secret. And he’s grateful that he spared him from having to carry it too. That he allowed his love for Sarah to bloom spontaneously, pure, untainted by a knowledge that would have twisted it into something completely different.
“I don’t resent him”, he repeats intently, hoping that the conviction in his voice will be enough to dispel all her worries on the subject. “I’m glad he didn’t tell me, and I would never resent him for that, or for anything else. And I don’t believe he was ‘sending me to my death’ either. I think he always hoped something like this would happen. That we could change things, somehow. That’s why he sent you that message.”
Her expression softens, and she presses herself against him, her hair tickling his throat.
“You’re really the best man I’ve ever met. The world doesn’t deserve you.”
He’s not sure that he’s worthy of such praise, but he’s grateful for it all the same. He wraps his arm around her, kissing the top of her head, his right hand still resting protectively over her belly.
He doesn’t tell her that even if there had been no way for them to change their fate, even if they’d only ever had a few hours together, it would still have been worth it to him.
***
Driving all day and camping in the wild is increasingly uncomfortable for Sarah. The term of her pregnancy is approaching, and they decide to settle down. So far there has been no sign of a Terminator tracking them, and they’ve moved so randomly it seems unlikely that one would find them at this point, at least not for a while.
Somewhere around Calexico, they find an old RV for sale that provides all the accommodations they require, and in case of emergency it will allow them to quickly get out of dodge. As they talk with Jenette, the woman who sells it to them, it appears she wouldn’t mind letting them stay on her land for a while. She’s been alone on her farm ever since her husband passed, the kids moved away to the big city, and she sure as heck could use an extra pair of hands for all the farm work, as her knees and her back aren’t getting any younger.
They easily come to an arrangement.
Kyle has never done this kind of work before, and he likes it a lot, even though Jenette keeps complaining about this “damn city kid” who can’t tell a bell pepper apart from a tomato. Planting living things in the ground and watching them grow is certainly refreshing compared to fighting against killer machines and seeing all his comrades fall one after the other. It’s so peaceful here…
He’s afraid to get too used to it, but he also has to face the facts: nothing has been after them in months. They’re… safe. It’s not a state of being that he’s ever known before, and he’s not sure he can ever get used to it. He still tenses at the sound of a vehicle approaching or the dog barking. He still wakes at the slightest noise in the dead of night, instinctively reaching for a gun… He doesn’t think that will ever stop, even if they lived a decade like this.
Jenette didn’t take long to notice. Sarah told her it’s PTSD from his time in the marines, but she doesn’t seem convinced. She can tell they’re in some kind of trouble, she knows they’re hiding, either from the authorities of from something else. Why else would they be here, isolated on a farm in the middle of nowhere? Why else would Sarah refuse so adamantly to give birth in the hospital, where it would be so much safer? She doesn’t ask questions though, and she doesn’t tell them to leave.
Instead, she insists that Sarah shouldn’t have to sleep in the RV: she would be far more comfortable in one of the unused bedrooms in the house. Kyle is reluctant, because he still feels they would be safer in a house on wheels in case of an attack. But he’s not the one with the sore back and the swollen legs, so he leaves the decision to Sarah, and doesn’t object when she accepts Jenette’s offer with obvious relief.
And so, they move into the house.
Sarah insists on helping out with the cleaning and the cooking, and Jenette keeps yelling at her and insisting that she should rest instead. Kyle is the one who ends up helping around in the house, and he discovers the joys of cooking. Beats making plastique, by far, once he’s mastered the basics. And once Jenette has overcome her horror at his deep ignorance of… well, everything, she turns out to be an amazing teacher.
In the evenings, they listen to Jenette’s old records while she tells them all sorts of family stories around a glass of mezcal (and a mug of herbal tea for Sarah). When she tells them about Enrique, her good-for-nothing nephew who got arrested for providing fake IDs to undocumented immigrants, he wonders if she’s purposefully giving them that information in case they have need of his services. He catches a glint in her eyes when she tells them that he’s getting out of jail in a couple of months.
***
The contractions start in the middle of the night. Kyle holds Sarah’s hand while Jenette is calling the midwife on the phone. It takes her over two hours to reach the farm, and then it takes another ten hours for John’s head to appear, while Sarah’s fingers are crushing Kyle’s hand so hard he wonders idly if he’ll still be able to use it afterwards, or if she’s broken every single bone in it.
All went well. The midwife congratulates them both for a healthy baby boy and gives John to Sarah, who holds her son against her heart, exhausted but happy despite all the pain she had to endure in the past hours. Then she looks at Kyle, and hands John to him.
He takes him delicately, mindful to hold the head like the midwife taught them. In this moment, it’s hard to imagine that this small, fragile being and the charismatic leader he once knew are one and the same. Except this John may not have to follow the same path. Hopefully, he’ll get to grow up and live out his life in a world very different from the one his father was born into. He’ll get to become whatever he wants to be. That’s his greatest wish for him.
***
Taking care of a newborn is exhausting, and it’s definitely a two people job, at the very least. They take turns answering the baby’s cries, and they sleep whenever he lets them. Feeding him, changing his diapers, wiping vomit, doing laundry and cleaning nursing bottles makes up most of their waking hours. Saving the world from Skynet will have to wait a little longer.
Jenette keeps complaining about the noise, the smells and the general mess, but when they offer to go back to the RV she’s absolutely outraged. She calls John her “niño” and sometimes she looks after him so they can both get some rest.
She often sings to him, rocking him in her arms. John seems to like that, so Kyle has picked up on the habit too. Although he’s a bit self-conscious about his singing, he finds that the sound of his voice does have an effect on the baby. Whenever he sings to him, John stops fussing and he stares at him with his big grey eyes, apparently fascinated.
Once, while he’s singing to John like this, he finds Sarah leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest, one of Jenette’s shawls draped around her shoulders. She’s been listening to him too, and she smiles fondly at him.
“You have a very soothing voice”, she informs him.
“I do?”
That’s news to him.
She nods.
“John loves it. I love it too.”
Her eyes are shining, and their expression makes his heart skip a beat.
John has fallen asleep. Maybe Mom and Dad can have an hour or two to themselves before he wakes up again...
***
The day John starts walking, he becomes a menace. When it comes to mischief, the little boy’s imagination has no limits. He’s curious about everything, and he’ll grab everything he can reach, go everywhere he can go. They have to watch him constantly so he doesn’t hurt himself in his intrepid explorations. Max has taken it upon himself to watch the tiny human too, and to keep him out of trouble. Jenette complains all the time that she’s never seen such a rambunctious child, but they’ve lived with her long enough by now to know that she actually adores the little rascal, and wouldn’t be parted with him for the world.
His first word is Mama. His second word is… Max. Dada only comes third, but Kyle doesn’t mind. He’s just grateful to be along for the ride. Jenette is still waiting for him to pronounce her name, and she grows more offended everyday that passes without any progress on that front, even though they keep telling her that “Jenette” is a little too difficult to pronounce for an eleven month old.
***
Enrique has delivered their IDs, and he’s shown Kyle an old stash on the property he’s used to hide smuggled goods (or people, Kyle suspects). Now he and Sarah use it to store their weapons and their equipment.
They didn’t tell anything to Jenette, but they’re pretty sure she chooses to turn a blind eye to whatever they’re up to. The only thing she ever said about it is: “don’t you crazy kids bring your troubles on my doorstep”. They promised not to, even though Kyle isn’t so sure they can keep that promise. Trouble hasn’t found them in almost two years now, but who knows how long that will last, especially once they go through with their plan.
As soon as she recovered from childbirth, Sarah started training again. Her discipline has nothing to envy to his, and pretty soon she’s as fit as any soldier. Whenever they talk strategy, she seems to assume they’re both going. And although Kyle agrees that their chances of success are better that way, he can’t help dreading the moment they’ll have to address the elephant in the room: what about John?
Sure, they can leave him here with Jenette. But that’s assuming things go smoothly, and their absence doesn’t last more than a few days, a few weeks at most. That’s a pretty big assumption to make.
What happens if they get caught? What happens if one of them gets killed? Or both? Jenette loves John, but she can’t protect him like they would, especially not against dangers she has no idea about. And even if she knew (and believed it!), they have no right to put such a responsibility on the shoulders of the old lady, or anyone else for that matter. That’s their job, and theirs alone. They can’t just leave him behind and hope for the best.
When he finally finds the courage to broach the subject, Sarah simply answers that one of them will have to stay behind with John while the other goes on the mission alone.
Which brings another loaded question: which one of them stays behind, and which one goes to blow up Cyberdyne?
Of course, they both want to go.
“I should be the one to go”, he tells her, which earns him a predictable dark look. “I’m the one with the most experience in this kind of mission.”
“Bullshit”, she retorts sternly. “What have I been training for, all this time? Or are you saying I’m not capable? I’m not living up to the ‘legend’, is that it?”
“Of course not”, he sighs, frustrated. “But...”
“If you say John is gonna need me more than he’ll ever need you, I’m gonna scream”, she warns him, and that shuts him right up, because, yes, that’s exactly what he was about to say.
“And you know what? I think he’d actually need you more than me”, she continues. “I mean, think about it. If we fail, if we can’t prevent Judgment Day, who will prepare him for the war better than the one guy who’s actually lived it?”
That’s… a rather compelling point. He’s never thought about it that way.
Of course, the idea of Sarah risking her life on her own twists his guts in a very unpleasant way. But if it was the reverse, she would worry for him just as much. And he owes it to her to trust her, to respect her choice and her courage.
There’s another thing he doesn’t tell her. A truth that he can barely acknowledge himself.
He actually misses it. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the feeling that he’s right where he belongs, doing what he’s best at. The grim satisfaction of proving to be faster, better, more cunning than the machines, all fragile, dumb, insignificant human that he is.
It’s been almost two years, and yes, he’s been happy with her and John, tremendously happy, he’s known a peace that he never thought he’d be allowed to have… But the idea of this mission, going after Cyberdyne, was making him feel things that he hadn’t felt in a while. It was like a huge piece of him had been missing ever since the hospital, and it was finally back, clicking right into place.
It’s a little bittersweet to realize that he might never experience that again.
But when he looks at her, he sees it too: the hard, furious determination. She’s ready to finish this once and for all, to kill the nightmare that’s been haunting her for the past two years, and send it into oblivion for good. She needs this as much as he does, if not more. He has no right to deprive her of it.
“Alright. You win. You’ll be the one to go, and I’ll stay with John.”
Her victorious smile does things to him, but he doesn’t let it distract him.
“But if you’re going in alone, you’ll let me prepare you for this mission, and you won’t go until I say you’re ready. There will be no room for improvisation: we’ll prepare everything carefully, no matter how long it takes. You’re not gonna rush in blindly and get yourself killed. And if you get caught, you’ll need to be able to get yourself out of custody and come back to us in one piece.”
She listens to his speech, still smiling.
“Sir yes Sir”, she says, sarcastic, giving him a mock salute.
“Don’t make me regret this”, he retorts gruffly, but he knows how serious she actually is about this.
Her smile changes, the humor leaves her eyes, replaced by a softness that he’s come to know well. She understands how much it costs him to let her do this on her own. How much he hates to put her in harm’s way, which goes against his every instinct to protect her.
“Thank you”, she tells him, squeezing his hand.
“Just… don’t die. I don’t care if it means you fail. You get your ass out of there at the first sign of danger.”
She looks at him pensively.
“Even if it means that we lose our only chance to prevent Judgment Day? Even if it means the death of billions of people?”
“Yes”, he says without hesitation.
He doesn’t care if it makes him sound like a selfish monster. In that moment, that’s how he honestly feels. As much as he wants to save this world, he cares about her more. Besides, as long as they’re alive, they can try again. But if she dies, that’s it. There’s no coming back from that, and he’ll have to live the rest of his life without her. And knowing that they’re both caught in a time loop won’t be of much comfort to him: he has to live in this timeline, it doesn’t really matter to him what happens in alternate versions of it.
For a second, he thinks she’s going to react with contempt and disgust. But she doesn’t. She gets it.
“You won’t lose me, I promise”, she murmurs.
She bends over to kiss him, and he wraps his arms around her, as if to keep her from disappearing. They stay like that for a while, sitting on the porch, clinging to each other like lost children caught in a rising storm. Kyle’s eyes fall on John, playing outside with Max, just a normal, innocent kid, unaware of the crushing responsibilities and sacrifices that befall the future savior of humanity.
He hopes with all his heart that he’ll never have to find out.
Anonymous (Guest) on Chapter 1 Tue 20 May 2025 09:24PM UTC
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