Father's Day Cameron tries to help the Connors celebrate the day, only her knowledge of Kyle R. is like a bomb going off, with everyone scattering. Ultimately, each of them comes to realize the importance of the day. Cameron's final actions that day help John, Sarah and Derek honor Kyle Reese in the only way they can, by being a family. For all the Dad's out there and the people with Dad's. Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles - Rated: K+ - English - Drama/Family - Chapters: 1 - Words: 9,098 - Published: 6-10-13 - Cameron & John C. Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
I figured I'd post this here because I know some of you're fans of King Steve's stories. He's currently working on an epic TSCC/Jameron trilogy.
Scene one John shivered slightly and tossed a few more broken-off pieces of branch into the fire Cameron had made, hoping to get a little more warmth into his body. The temperature had dropped as the sun had set, and now it was fully dark it had gone down even further. There was no risk of exposure and he knew it, but all the same it was uncomfortably chilly and his leather jacket didn’t do much to keep his body heat in, even zipped all the way up to his neck.
“Don’t put any more wood in,” Cameron said after he’’d dropped another broken branch into the flames. She wanted to keep the fire low so that nobody on the road would see it and come to investigate. It had been her decision to sleep out in the forest overnight, rather than risk checking into another motel and being recognised.
“I know,” John said, wrapping his arms around himself to try and keep warm. He leaned back against the large tree behind them and shivered a little bit. “We don’’t want to be seen,” he echoed Cameron’s thoughts. He couldn’t fault her decision to stay out in the woods, but he did wish they could have at least bought a tent or sleeping bags or something. His stomach rumbled hungrily, reminding him he hadn’t eaten for half the day. They’d passed a number of gas stations on the way but they’d all had CCTV and Cameron had been reluctant to risk their being caught on camera.
Cameron heard John’s rumbling stomach though, and although she knew he could cope – he was young, strong, and he would endure periods of starvation much longer than half a day in the future – she could also see his discomfort, and immediately wanted to minimize it. “I can get you food,” Cameron offered, turning to look at her charge.
John looked around and then gave her an expression of doubt. “I think you scared off all the wildlife, if you’re thinking of hunting something.” He hadn’’t seen or heard any sign of life since they’d parked away from the road and into the forest; dogs and cats were afraid of terminators; he figured it’d make sense for other animals to be able to sense what they were too. Only humans were fooled, it seemed.
“I probably did,” Cameron agreed with him. “I meant the last gas station we passed.”
“Wasn’t it you that said it was too much of a risk?”
“For you,” Cameron said. She was confident she could buy some food and leave without anyone recognising her. And she could always disable the cameras. John thought about it for a moment. He was hungry, but he knew it was too much of a risk still. Besides, he thought, he needed to get used to this kind of thing.
“Do we do this a lot? In the future?” he asked. This seemed like the sort of thing they’d do: hiding out in the woods, surviving.
“Not in the open,” Cameron said. “HKs can see body heat.”
“Even under all these trees?”
“Police helicopters can do that now: HKs do it better. You spend most of your time underground.”
John frowned, disappointed. “That sucks.” He remembered his mom’s tapes, how he’d listened to them almost religiously until she’d been declared insane and thrown into Pescadero. He remembered most of what she’d said. ‘You’’ll have to stay down by day, underground, and move around at night.’ There was so much on those tapes, a great deal of it about how fast and strong the machines were, and how they felt nothing at all. But when John looked to Cameron, when he thought about how she’d reacted to Ellison the night before, he found himself realising that wasn’t quite true. What was it she’d said? I wouldn’t be worth much if I couldn’t feel. He’d dismissed it at the time, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. What still confused him was what Ellison had said to upset her –– even though she’d denied that she ever could be upset. John didn’t know much about women, but he knew when they said they were fine they were often anything but, and Cameron’’s ‘I can’t be upset, I’m just a machine’ sounded a lot to him like the cyborg version of ‘I’m fine.’
“I want to know what Ellison meant earlier,” he said to her, intent that this time he wasn’t going to let the matter drop. ““Why did he upset you?”
Cameron’s response, John thought, was fairly predictable. “I can’t be upset, I’m-”
“Bullshit, Cameron!” John snapped. “I know what I saw, and I want to know why.”
Cameron held his gaze for a moment, as she found herself, surprisingly, lost for words. They seemed to have started to repair the relationship between them. He trusted her again, spent time with her – teaching her and allowing her to also teach him – and his trust made it easier for her to protect him. The truth could push him away again, make him angry. She didn’t want that, but at the same time she could tell he wasn’t going to stop asking her about it.
“I’d rather tell you later,” Cameron said to him. That was a lie: she would prefer to never tell him, and if she could avoid doing so, then she would. She saw John shiver again and moved herself closer to him. She pulled John to her and wrapped an arm around him, pressing her body to his.
“What’re you doing?”
“Sharing body heat,” Cameron replied simply.
“Huh,” John said. She was warm to the touch, and as she draped her leg over him he could feel the heat emanating from her. No wonder she can fool people, he thought, recalling how she’d snuck right under his radar back in New Mexico. He wouldn’t have guessed she was a machine.
In a matter of minutes John started to feel warmer. He’d stopped shivering, something Cameron noticed consciously, but for John, he just felt a lot more comfortable now. Cameron remained perfectly still, sensing John’s pulse and breathing slowing. He was tired and needed sleep. ““How’re we gonna get mom out of jail?” he asked. He was fresh out of ideas and it tore him up inside that he couldn’t free his own mother.
“We can’t do anything while the prison’s being watched.”
John had figured she’d say as much. If it were just people then she could have still gone in, but the T-888 had given them both pause for thought. And although he didn’t know it, he was thinking the same thing about the situation as Cameron: they didn’’t know if it was just one Triple-Eight. It was clearly operating with a human team; who was to say they didn’t have another one somewhere?
“We need to check out the jail,” he told her. “See how many people or machines are watching it.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Cameron said. She knew John wanted to break Sarah out of the county jail but there was too much risk involved. ““If they see us they’ll try to kill you.” They would have to change their car and find a way to get inside undetected by either the guards or the team monitoring the prison. It was close to impossible. “I won’t risk you,” she added.
Message edited by kaotic - Wednesday, 03 Jul 2013, 02:22
Scene Two - this might be a little hard to read for some people. The engine chugged and spluttered as the car began to lose power and slow down, much to the anger of the driver. It decelerated from sixty… fifty… then down to thirty and lower as the car, starved of fuel, started to fail. “Come on, not now,” Lauren Fields pleaded to the car as if it were a sentient being. She jammed her foot on the gas and was rewarded with a strained roar from the engine and a fraction more momentum. “Yes!” she cried out and slapped the dashboard in delight as the car picked up speed.
Thirty-two… thirty-five… forty… forty-five… Lauren couldn’t help the look of glee on her face, even though she knew such a victory was temporary. She looked over her shoulder to the tiny mass bundled in blankets behind her, secured snugly into a cradle strapped tight to the rear seat. As safe as any baby could be, given the circumstances; which was hardly safe at all.
Lauren looked down at the roadmap perched on her lap and kept her foot on the gas, trying to feed enough of the last drops of fuel into the engine to keep it going. Looking at the map they only had five miles to go until they reached the next gas station. She could make five miles on fumes.
The car lurched and lost power, reminding her that both she and the car had been running on fumes for several miles already. “No!” she screamed in frustration as the engine stalled and died. The car rolled to a stop on the dirt road bisecting a massive cornfield. Swearing and cursing the car, she turned the key again. The engine struggled and Lauren stamped her foot down on the gas, hoping to put some life back into the car. It didn’t work. She tried once more with the same result before she gave up and pushed her door open. No good. She knew that wherever they were going it would have to be on foot.
Her seatbelt detached with a quiet click and she was out of the car in an instant. She pulled out the revolver, pushed aside the rotating cylinder, and checked all chambers were loaded. The moon was three-quarters full so despite being in the dead of night she had just enough light to check it. In one smooth, practised motion she slid the gun back in the waistband of her cargo pants. The barrel dug into her right ass cheek and the handle into the small of her back, and not for the first time she wished she’d bought a holster for the thing.
She opened the rear passenger door just behind where she’d sat seconds ago, and quickly undid the buckles that held little Sydney in place. She picked up her little sister and held her close to her chest with her left arm. With her right she picked up her rucksack, complete with food for herself and formula for her sister.
Headlights lit up in the distance, maybe a mile away and getting closer. Dread filled Lauren from head to toe and she nearly burst into tears. Don’t these things ever quit? She already knew the answer to that, as had been explained so thoroughly by Sarah and Cameron –– she wished she had a machine of her own at that moment, instead of just a handgun and a bag of baby formula. Lauren quickly disappeared into the cornfield and ran as fast as her weighed down body could carry her through the rows and rows of corn that were thankfully taller than her. She ran in zigzag patterns, dashing straight ahead for ten or fifteen feet then changing direction like a hare trying to escape a fox. Except she knew this fox would never get tired, never change its mind and go after another target, and would never give up the chase.
She didn’t know how far she’d covered before she heard the sounds of the car pulling up, probably next to where hers had ran out of gas and broken down. She slowed her pace down to a walk. She knew how good those things’ hearing was and she didn’t want it to be able to home in on the rustling from her bulling her way through cornrows. Lauren stopped for a moment to catch her breath and listen out for the machine. She wondered for a moment if she should just stay here: if she was quiet enough then maybe the machine wouldn’t find them; maybe it’d assume she’d gone through the field and would run out the other side in a futile pursuit.
That’s not how they work; an inner voice that sounded a hell of a lot like Sarah said to her. She knew she couldn’t just huddle here and hope it’’d go away, she needed to escape, to get Sydney out of there.
In that moment Sydney cried out, screaming and wailing. Lauren’s hand snapped up and covered her little sister’s mouth, stifling her cry. “Shit!”” There was no way the machine wouldn’t have heard that. It’s almost a cliché, she thought; a crying baby giving them away, like the plot of a bad horror movie. She shrugged off the pack, pulled out her revolver and ran. It didn’t matter which direction, she just picked one at random and sprinted with everything she had. Her legs burned from the effort as she pushed herself as hard as she could go, ignoring the fact that within seconds her lungs were on fire. None of that counted; she just held Sydney tight to her and smashed her way between the giant stalks of corn. It didn’t matter the noise she made: Sydney had already given them away and now speed was more important than stealth.
She sprinted as fast and as hard as she could, faster than she’d ever moved before, fear and adrenaline pushing her beyond her normal limits. She had to get out of there, had to save Sydney. Through the rustling and cracking of corn stalks she could hear more noise behind her as the machine ploughed through the same plants, literally breaking several of them in half with sheer momentum.
A second later something stung her in the back, followed an instant after by a loud crack, and she lost her balance. Somehow she managed to keep hold of Sydney on the way down, and turn herself so she landed on her side. Lauren tried to get back up but white hot pain tore through her back and her stomach. She instinctively reached back and felt where the pain was coming from, and when she brought her hand back it was slick and covered in blood. In the darkness, illuminated only by the moon shining high in the sky, the blood looked black, almost like oil. She could feel warmth and wetness on both her back and her stomach, and she didn’t need to look down to realise the bullet had gone straight through.
Stomping footsteps grew closer and Lauren raised the revolver. Even that was a struggle. She felt cold and the gun felt heavy in her shaking hand, and she knew she was going into shock. Corn stalks rustled and moved aside a few feet away, revealing the shape of the machine that was almost on them. Lauren knew it was useless to try and crawl away; she wouldn’t make it three feet before it got to them. She couldn’t escape and there was nowhere to hide Sydney. She only had one choice. With a redoubled effort she raised the gun again and pointed it at the approaching shape. She fired, once; twice… she kept pulling the trigger, grimacing at the loud report that battered her ears, until the gun clicked empty.
Still the shape continued inexorably toward them. Lauren struggled to reach into her pocket for more rounds, but it was too late.
The terminator – in the guise of a tall, muscular, bearded man in his forties – appeared through the nearest row of corn, weapon in hand. Out of options, Lauren curled up into a ball around Sydney, instinctively shielding her sister with her own body. She sobbed quietly and closed her eyes, not wanting to see what was about to happen. Sydney cried again as blood from the exit wound flowed onto her, covering the infant. In her mind’s eye she could picture the machine stood over them, pointing its own gun down at her.
She felt the shots before she heard them. Hot metal tore through her body and shredded her internal organs. Four shots tore through her flesh and made mincemeat of her insides. She groaned in agony, somehow still conscious. She felt a boot push her shoulder, forcing her onto her back, and the contact of the dirt on her wounds added to the pain. She wasn’’t sure how she was still alive. She tried to move but to no avail, and she briefly wondered, in her shock-induced semi-stupor, if one had hit her spine. She opened her eyes to see the terminator, its weapon aimed straight at her. Once again she screwed her eyes shut. Another shot rang out and something warm and wet spattered Lauren in the face. It took a second for her to realise she wasn’’t dead. The bullet hadn’t hit her, and Sydney was now silent. But that meant…
It hit her like a freight train. Even if she could have moved a muscle, Lauren wouldn’t have dared look down at what was left of her sister. She tried to scream out in anguish but all that came was a strained gurgle as blood started to pool in the bottom of her lungs. She opened her eyes again and found her vision was blurry and obscured by red viscera clinging to her eyelids. The machine was now crouched over her and placed its fingers on her carotid artery.
She could almost read its mind: it was checking her vitals to see if she would survive her injuries or not. She didn’t care. She’d lost her sister, her mom and her dad. Nothing mattered anymore. The machine rose back up off its haunches, holstered its gun, and started to turn away. “H… hey!” she croaked pathetically, struggling to raise her head to look at the thing that had murdered her sister. She hated it even more, that it was just going to leave her here to suffer – even if she survived, she’d have to live with the loss of Sydney. “Kill me,” she pleaded with the machine. “Please… ki… kill… me. I’’ve got… nothing… left.”
The machine turned around to face her, but made no move to come back towards her. “You’re not the target,” it said to her, both face and voice blank and devoid of any emotion. If it was happy about killing her sister then it showed no outward sign of it.
Bastard. But then, she realised, she was never the target: it was all about Sydney, it always had been. She wasn’t even important enough to finish off. She could imagine what it was thinking: she’d be dead soon enough anyway. Even with proper medical treatment she figured her chances would be slim. Her sister – the poor, innocent target of the machine – was dead, and terminating her would be a waste of time and/or ammunition.
“You’ll expire in ten to fifteen minutes,” the machine informed her as it walked away, leaving Lauren Fields sobbing, bleeding to death and cradling the remains of her baby sister –– a child targeted because of a freak mutation that rendered her immune to some bioweapon in the future. And she’d failed to keep her safe. Ten to fifteen minutes, Lauren repeated the machine’’s words in her head as anguished tears flowed freely from her eyes. It was ten to fifteen minutes too long.
Here's the last teaser before King Steve's new story is posted.
His mother was more important than what she wanted, and Cameron knew that. “It’s okay John,” she told him. “You’ll see me again.” She squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him.
“What?” John whirled around, snatching his hand out of hers, and snarled, “In twenty years when another you comes to kill me? That won’t be you.” He took a second before he looked to Weaver, having made up his mind. “Here’s my counter-offer: Cameron stays with me, you help us get my mother out of jail, or we walk away.” He took a step closer to Weaver and looked her square in the face as he spoke. She said nothing and continued to stare him down. Cameron, Ellison, and John Henry watched as they faced off against each other; neither of them willing to back down. They glared at each other in total silence and Ellison wondered if this was what it was like when an unstoppable force met an immovable object. For a moment he saw in John what his mother, what the late Derek Reese, and what several others had seen and described. John Henry silently observed the two of them, unsure who would back down first.
Finally, Weaver broke the silence. “Here’s my counter-offer-”
“No counter-offer,” John barked at her, reminding Cameron very much at that moment of the general she’d left behind in 2027. His eyes remained as cold as those of the machine opposite. “What’s it going to be?” he demanded. Weaver still said nothing but watched John, calculating. He wouldn’t leave his mother in prison, of that she was very confident. She just simply needed to wait for him to realise that without her his mother would die in jail.
John was the one to turn away first, but not for the reason Weaver had anticipated.
“Cameron, we’re leaving.” He walked across the room towards the door. They’d find another way to get his mom out – when they were transferring her; that’d be when they’d make their move. Cameron said nothing and obediently followed after John. She thought he was making a mistake: John Henry was important, but at the same time she was also proud of how he’d stood up to Catherine Weaver. He was becoming more like the John Connor he was destined to be.
“She’s that important to you?” Weaver asked as John reached for the door handle.
“She is,” John replied, still facing the door and keeping his back to her.
He didn’t see the slight smile that crept up on Weaver’s face. “How interesting.”
Two weeks ago I posted an update to Reunion Chapter 16, Destiny Bites. I added one scene that better explains how Kyle Reese came to the decision of having John made leader of Resistance Group Grizzly in his place, and I did a few grammatical tweaks.
Chapter 16 Destiny Bites Weaver topples the last domino in achieving one part of her plan. John visits with John Henry and Weaver as repairs are begun on Cameron. He returns to Outpost Delta and is immediately called to the main based. In Derek's absence, John is appointed & reluctantly accepts position of leader of the resistance camp. On the eve of his uniting the various camps into one army, the main bunker comes under attack. Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
*hugs you* it's okay... there there little one. Hopefully it made you smile? Think happy thoughts! Someday TSCC WILL COME BACK TO US!!!!! *ahem* I'm normal... O.o ☮"Just because no one has been fortunate enough to realize how wonderful you are, doesn't mean you shine any less." - Summer Glau☮
I have a keep calm and carry on facebook chat and a zombie facebook chat that I'm working on... it will be added to the facebook chat feel free to check it out ☮"Just because no one has been fortunate enough to realize how wonderful you are, doesn't mean you shine any less." - Summer Glau☮
Made some minor corrections to the following chapter of Reunion:
Chapter 33 Home Again 2009, May 12, Day -6 John Connor, his friends and the survivors of the battle of Topanga arrive from the future. Operating from Catherine Weaver's secret base in Crystal Peak, John begins organizing for the coming storm. He confronts Weaver about her actions and is not satisfied with what she has said. Haunted by painful memories of the future, John must deal with a potential threat in his midst while preparing to stop Judgment Day. Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles