Something To Remember Me By, 7/9. NC-17
Title: Something To Remember Me By
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Pairing: Kyle/Sarah
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine! Characters you recognize belong to other people, and I own nothing even remotely related to this.
Notes: Written for the ever lovely and wonderful romanovasledger. :)
Summary: Of course Sarah had a life before Kyle appeared in it. It wasn't her fault that he didn't have one now that Genisys had been stopped. Now they had to figure out what to do with a brand new future, and Sarah was going to lead the way.
Previous chapters:
One - Uncanny Valley
Two - An Interesting Future
Three - Switch Off The Sun
Four - Choking On Thin Air
Five - Laying A New Foundation
Six - Putting On War Paint
Seven - Concern and Guilt
"What the hell is all this?" Sarah asked abruptly, seeing a pile of books on the kitchen table instead of Pops' ubiquitous engine parts to clean and reassemble.
She grabbed the books before Pops could even answer, and didn't quite make sense of the titles; they seemed to be psychology books on self esteem, depression, relationships and how to make problematic relationships work. "The hell? Pops?"
"You recall your argument with Kyle Reese several weeks ago."
"Of course I do," she said with a scowl, tossing the books back down onto the table in a sloppy pile, not even looking when some skidded across the table to fall on the floor. "So? What does that have to do with anything?"
"You have been irritable and sad."
"Who wouldn't be, with the kind of life we have?"
"With decreased interest in activities-"
"We can't exactly go anywhere, and it's not like I ever learned any hobbies. Unless you count cleaning weapons and target shooting."
"-difficulty with sleep, some lack of appetite, decreased energy, decreased sex drive-"
"Oh, my god, Pops, I am not discussing my sex life with you!"
"-but I am unsure if there is hopelessness or helplessness. You have always been strong and trained frequently, so I would not believe you feel helpless. You do feel worthless, and that has become more apparent to me."
"The hell are you talking about?"
"I have not seen evidence of self harm and there have been no suicide attempts. I have seen evidence of guilt that you carry that is irrational, particularly with regards to Kyle Reese. Have you had auditory or visual hallucinations?" Pops asked abruptly.
"Holy fuck, Pops!" Sarah cried incredulously. "No! What the hell are you talking about?!"
"I have gone through the diagnostic criteria for major depression as delineated by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition," Pops intoned. "Aside from the depressed mood, which must be present for at least two weeks to qualify as a mood episode, you would need at least five other symptoms that are not better explained for by other medical issues or other psychiatric illnesses."
"I don't have a psychiatric illness!"
"Negative," Pops replied. His expression was that same blank earnest one he tended to get when Sarah had her tantrums as a child. She had to eat her vegetables, she had to have some kind of calcium rich food, she had to have protein and grains. She would not have any sweets or unhealthy items that could impede her ability to grow. "You exhibit all the symptoms that are required to assign the diagnosis of major depressive disorder, moderate in severity, without psychotic features."
"I'll show you psychotic," Sarah grumbled, wishing for a gun.
"Psychosis as a medical term refers to the disconnect from appreciating reality as it is. Modern media has corrupted the true meaning of the term to refer to violent impulses."
"Oh, I've got the violent impulses."
"In trying to defeat the other Terminators, such impulses were appropriate. You have successfully curbed them in inappropriate situations, such as going to work or attending classes at college. I do not see you becoming inappropriately violent toward Kyle Reese, even when you are upset with him or say demeaning things."
"God, Pops," Sarah said, turning away from him and stomping her foot while covering her face with her hands. "You need to fucking shut up."
"Remaining silent will not make these symptoms go away. The natural progression of a depressed episode can last over a year on average. The use of therapy and medication can decrease the severity and length of a depressive episode."
"Jesus Christ, I don't believe this."
"You must believe it. I am to care for your wellbeing, and that concerns mental health as well as physical health. Earlier, the primary focus has been on physical health and keeping you alive. I see this is not enough, and that there should have been focus on coping skills and creating a proper outlet for your emotions. It was not added as part of my programming, but I have corrected the error and will now account for it as well as for Kyle Reese."
Sarah stopped and looked at him. "What?"
"He displays characteristics of post traumatic stress disorder, as well as complicated bereavement and possibly also major depressive disorder. It could also be generalized anxiety disorder, however, because he does not share his thought processes with me."
She plopped down heavily on a chair opposite Pops. "So we're both fucked up, you're saying."
"Negative. Both of you can correct these errors in your functioning by applying the proper treatments. They are common responses to trauma and loss, and neither of you have had the support network necessary to limit the severity of them. I am a support, but emotions are not natural to machinery." He smiled, that eerie grimace that spooked too many people that saw it, and Sarah winced. "Precisely."
Blowing out a long breath, Sarah picked up one of the books. "So you're saying I need a therapist. But talking about all the shit that went down is going to have them call me crazy and get me locked up in a psych ward somewhere."
"It did happen to the alternate version of Sarah Connor."
Giving him a sour look, Sarah tossed the book back down. "You're not making me feel very comfortable about psychiatry and therapy and that kind of shit."
"We will need to take a professional into our confidence."
"Oh, hell, no!"
"Detective O'Brien is aware of your status as time travelers."
"His fellow officers thought he was crazy, remember?"
"You must begin to speak with others that can be trusted." Pops' tone brooked no argument. "The texts of this time are clear that an outside perspective is necessary for therapy to be effective, and that a therapeutic rapport must be reached."
"And you told me not to trust anyone!" Sarah snapped, turning back to Pops with an intense look. "So what is it? Don't trust them, or trust them?"
"Trust certain ones," Pops declared. He gave Sarah a long look. "Kyle Reese's concerns of Skynet are not entirely unfounded. Time paradoxes are well documented in science fiction and in theory of time and energy. That this future has continued without any apparent ripple effects means some form of Skynet still develops."
"Well, fuck. We did all this for nothing!"
"Judgment Day didn't happen as it was originally foretold," Pops reminded her. "Genisys wasn't released on schedule. The future we knew of has been delayed or altered in such a way that we no longer affect it."
"So what does that mean?" Sarah demanded. "Someone else gets to have a fucked up fate?"
"Possibly," Pops told her, implacable as ever. "Your only concern is your own."
Kyle would be home from work soon. Unable to bear seeing him at the moment, she pressed her lips together. "I'm going out. I need to think."
"You may think properly in this apartment."
"Not like this, I can't!"
Sarah left with a perfectly executed flounce, one she hadn't done since she was twelve.
***
Sarah didn't know where she wandered to, as she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. That was never a good idea, and she knew better than that usually, but for some reason she was fixated on Pops' assertion that she was depressed. It didn't feel right, but it didn't feel wrong, either. If Pops said something to Kyle, though, would he run in the opposite direction? In Kyle's version of the future, people were herded into work camps to do all the tasks that machines couldn't, and were killed off in droves. They'd avoid the stink of illness and incapacity of any kind, and Kyle would know that depression was an illness, right? If she did, he had to know that, and how would he be able to look at her if she was sick? How would she be able to look at herself and not think there was something wrong with her?
Before she knew it, she was running into exactly the one person in all of San Francisco that she didn't want to see. Kyle was leaving a diner with a coworker of his, a fairly tall and muscular black man with closely cropped hair, an easy smile and a slight gap between his two front teeth. He had a loose denim shirt on over a paint-stained undershirt and jeans. His work boots were just as beat up and thick soled as Kyle's, and Sarah could easily spot the calluses on his hands from years of construction work.
She suddenly realized that she didn't know his name, just as she didn't know any other of his coworkers, but Kyle knew the name and history of her new friend. Wow, she really was an asshole to him, wasn't she?
Kyle lit up when he saw her, which only seemed to twist the knife in her chest. "Sarah!"
"Oh, this is the famous Sarah," Kyle's friend said, grinning in her direction. Shit, she felt low.
The smile she pasted onto her face was a wilted one, and she gave a halfhearted wave. "Um. Hi."
"You didn't have to meet us," Kyle told her. "Or were you worried about me?"
"I know you can handle yourself," she said. He could, and she really didn't worry about that with him. Even without knowing the name of his friend, the man gave off the vibe of a very mellow and down to earth guy. That was exactly the kind of person that Kyle needed in his life.
"I'm Grant," Kyle's friend said, sticking his hand out for her to shake.
Wow, he even knew how awkward she felt not knowing his name. "Hey. You work with Kyle for very long?" she asked. He didn't seem familiar from the other work site she had seen.
"Since this guy joined the team," Grant said with a grin, like he was proud of Kyle.
Somehow, Sarah got pulled into the pair's trek back to the apartment, and she felt off and awful the entire time. Grant seemed like a nice guy, and she chatted with him on autopilot, rather like the way she used to with gangers back in LA. He laughed at the dumb jokes she made, even after she confessed getting them from Natalie. "I'll see you Monday, man," he told Kyle with a grin when they got to the entrance to the building. "I see why you talk about her the way you do," he added. Maybe Sarah wasn't meant to hear that; she had already gone inside and Kyle was going to lock up. The tone of Grant's voice was jovial, so Kyle had to have said something nice about her, and it felt like a lie.
"You're not feeling well, are you?" Kyle asked as soon as they were back inside the apartment. And thank God, Pops wasn't at the kitchen table. The books still were, though.
"Why do you say that?" she asked defensively. Maybe if she looked at anywhere else in the apartment but him? She probably had some kind of homework to do...
"You're acting weird. You were funny. Usually you're intense, or you're on top of everything-"
"Pops thinks I'm depressed," Sarah blurted, then wanted to kick herself. She was usually good at keeping things to herself. Secrets were her forte.
"Are you?" Kyle asked, brows furrowing in concern but not disgust.
"I don't know," she said, turning away from him for a moment. She turned back at him. "Why are you with me? Really? Because you have to? Because I'm the only one that'll understand what happened with Skynet?"
"Where is this coming from?" Kyle asked.
Sarah hurt to hear the guarded tone in his voice. "It's true, isn't it? You've been thinking about all of this that's happened, and you're regretting coming back, aren't you?"
Something changed in his expression, a strain that was a little more evident; it clearly had been there the whole time, but Sarah had apparently missed it. She had been so caught up in her own worries about fitting in and not jumping at shadows anymore that she had been ignoring the fact that Kyle was in the same position. Maybe worse, actually. Things had gone better when she had paid more attention to him, when she was calling the shots and giving him a place to belong in this world. Since their argument, Sarah had kept her distance, leaving him more alone in his own head. If Pops thought she was depressed, what did he think of Kyle?
"There was always the mission," Kyle said. She didn't know what emotion was fueling the odd note in his voice, but it had to be something dark and unhappy. "John saved me, you know. No matter what timeline, apparently. He was always saving me, always looking out for me."
And she had said John was a shitty friend. Sarah winced at her poor choice of words.
"But if there was an ulterior motive," Kyle continued, eyes locked on her face, "if it wasn't just concern for me, if it wasn't just friendship-"
"Don't, Kyle," Sarah warned, knowing that the creeping dread in her gut was leading somewhere very bad very fast. "Don't say-"
"Then he was using me. And every decision he ever made when it came to me is called into question now," Kyle continued relentlessly. Because of course he thought about this. She wasn't there to stop that train of thought, wasn't there to command him to do something else, and he was just as broken as she was.
"God, Kyle, please don't-"
"I used to be proud of the fact that I was chosen for important missions. That I was trusted enough to know the details, that I could work alone. But it was deliberate, wasn't it?" There was a bitterness in his voice that made Sarah ache to hear. "After all, we can't have me getting too attached to anyone else. Friends would hold me back. Can't let me want to know any other girls if I'm supposed to come back and love you."
Sarah flinched and her lips trembled. "You're mission oriented-"
"And he helped make me that way," Kyle snapped, an angry snarl in his voice she hadn't heard before. "He made me care about the mission more than my own life. No point in getting attached to men in my unit, because they were all going to die anyway. Any time I get close to a woman, she gets reassigned to another team several states away. He tells me stories about you, about the past that we don't remember. And it's a way to control me, isn't it?" The pain in his expression made Sarah tear up and bite her lip. "His priority wasn't me, not as the friend that I thought he was. He just needed me to volunteer to go to the past. He needed me to meet you, to fall in love you, to become his father."
"You saved lives," Sarah said, her voice feeling raw and wrenched out of her. The words felt pathetic, a paltry excuse of a positive, and it was all she could give him.
"Side benefit," Kyle replied with a sneer, and Sarah felt the tears begin to spill. "Everything was manufactured. Manipulated. Maybe he wasn't even infected when I got sent back. Maybe it was always that way. He was always a son of a bitch. I guess I never realized how far back it actually went, how much of a bastard he actually was."
"He was your friend, though," Sarah said, feeling something shatter inside of her and slip out of her hands, not knowing how to fix it.
"Shitty friend, as you keep pointing out."
"Maybe you're better off without us, then," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Connors just fuck up your life. I'm surprised you don't hate me after all of this, after what's happened. We just ruin everything."
At the same time she said the words, another part of her was screaming at him not to leave, that she would be alone again, that everything would be empty, and the entire meaning of her life would be gone.
Kyle turned away, not saying a word for a long moment. She was so sure he was going to leave, that he would choose to strike out on his own. Or with Grant, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and he and Kyle's work buddies laughed. She could fuck Kyle, she could command him, she could drive him to his knees. But she didn't know how to be soft, to be the kind of girl that he had expected to find when he had gone back.
She ruined everything, and John had gotten that from her, too.
"Is that what you think?" Kyle asked, his voice strained.
"What else can I think?"
He turned back to look at her, and simply stared for a moment. "There's plenty of other things that you could think."
"Like what?" Sarah asked, resentment and disbelief bubbling up in spite of wanting to push the words back down her throat. "Our son was a shitty friend that warped you and manipulated you from the get-go to ensure that he would be conceived. He kept you from making friends, from figuring out what he was doing. You lost your parents and your perfect house and wonderful life because of the machines trying to wipe out humanity. You almost died so many times, and don't even tell me you haven't, because I've seen the scars all over your body. I know you were at a work camp, I know you've talked about experiments, and somehow you still managed to get a tattoo on your arm like it's no big deal."
His lips thinned in discomfort, and Sarah knew she was probably triggering some kind of awful memory. She really should have tamped down on her urge to talk. But it was like the floodgates were opened, and all the dregs of her soul were spilling out in spite of herself.
"Anyone you might've cared about was gone. Either John got rid of them, or they died. So you fix your attention on someone that won't ever go away, and John of course will love that. You're stuck with him, and he wants you to go back. So you convince yourself that you love me, that I need saving. You tell yourself that I need it, and that you'll fix everything like you couldn't for your future. You buried everyone else but your idea of me, after all-"
"You need to stop now," Kyle said, voice low and aching.
"-but then I show up, and I'm nothing like the stories. I'm not what you imagined at all, I know that. I'm worse. I'm a bitch, I'm heartless, I'm a liar. I'm nothing of what anyone ever said, because of course my son is an asshole, and he's only going to give you the pretty bits, the stories that you need to have to love me. It doesn't even matter what he said, does it? He probably lied, probably put together whatever he wanted to once he realized what you wanted to hear. That's all it ever was, twisting you into someone who would be more than willing to be a baby daddy. John wouldn't have told you, but he was sending you back to fuck me and die. And if that's not utterly fucked up, I don't know what is."
Emotions warred on Kyle's face, and Sarah wished suddenly she knew what he was thinking. Or that she had stopped herself from saying such horrible things to him.
"People see what they want to see," Kyle said after a long moment. His voice sounded raw and pained, and Sarah could feel the tears on her face burning hot. She deserved that, though. She had hurt him, and it was only fair that she hurt a little in return.
"I'm sorry we ruined your life," she said weakly, sniffling a little. "I'm sorry we're such shitty people to you."
He could walk out the door of the apartment, never looking back. He could tell her that he hated her, that yes, she ruined his life and all the hope he had for this future. He could tell her that she ruined his memories of his best friend, of his comrades, and rendered all his past struggles pointless. He could tell her he was leaving. He could find some other way to support himself, and plenty of his coworkers would put him up for the night or indefinitely. He had friends, he didn't need her and Pops.
She was the pathetic one. She was the one that drove everyone away.
In her wildest dreams, maybe he would pull her close and comfort her as she cried. Maybe he would tell her that she wasn't the bitchy asshole she thought she was. Maybe he would tell her again that he loved her anyway, that he could forgive her for being the awful person that she had become, instead of the helpless girl he had thought he was getting.
The silence stretched out, and Sarah wiped at her face. It was awkward and painful, and Sarah didn't know what Kyle would do next.
"You aren't the one that ruined my life," Kyle said finally, when she was done sniffling.
"But I haven't helped," Sarah began.
"And I won't have you ruining your own," he continued.
To her infinite surprise, Kyle did something Sarah never thought he would: he bent down to kiss her forehead, then pushed her toward bed. "Go to sleep. It'll seem less terrible in the morning."
"We're still going to be in the same place as now."
"I know. But everything looks worse when it's dark and you're tired," Kyle replied. "Sleep. We'll talk more about it in the morning," he said. There was a weary slump in his shoulders, and Sarah wanted to reach out to him, to beg him to forgive her.
Her damn pride kept her lips glued shut.
That seemed to make Kyle even sadder, and she wanted to kick herself. Look at her, she couldn't even do silence right. She was hurting him even without trying, without saying a word, and that had to be the most awful talent she had.
Sarah looked around the bedroom and knew she couldn't stay in there, remembering the feel of his skin or the way he felt beneath her. She didn't deserve those reminders. And he should have the bed to sleep in, not the couch and Pops keeping the light on in the living room.
When it sounded like Kyle was in the bathroom, she was the one to leave. She had nothing with her but her wallet and cell phone, and nowhere to go.
What a loser.
***
***
To Chapter Eight - Miles From Where You Are
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Pairing: Kyle/Sarah
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine! Characters you recognize belong to other people, and I own nothing even remotely related to this.
Notes: Written for the ever lovely and wonderful romanovasledger. :)
Summary: Of course Sarah had a life before Kyle appeared in it. It wasn't her fault that he didn't have one now that Genisys had been stopped. Now they had to figure out what to do with a brand new future, and Sarah was going to lead the way.
Previous chapters:
One - Uncanny Valley
Two - An Interesting Future
Three - Switch Off The Sun
Four - Choking On Thin Air
Five - Laying A New Foundation
Six - Putting On War Paint
Seven - Concern and Guilt
"What the hell is all this?" Sarah asked abruptly, seeing a pile of books on the kitchen table instead of Pops' ubiquitous engine parts to clean and reassemble.
She grabbed the books before Pops could even answer, and didn't quite make sense of the titles; they seemed to be psychology books on self esteem, depression, relationships and how to make problematic relationships work. "The hell? Pops?"
"You recall your argument with Kyle Reese several weeks ago."
"Of course I do," she said with a scowl, tossing the books back down onto the table in a sloppy pile, not even looking when some skidded across the table to fall on the floor. "So? What does that have to do with anything?"
"You have been irritable and sad."
"Who wouldn't be, with the kind of life we have?"
"With decreased interest in activities-"
"We can't exactly go anywhere, and it's not like I ever learned any hobbies. Unless you count cleaning weapons and target shooting."
"-difficulty with sleep, some lack of appetite, decreased energy, decreased sex drive-"
"Oh, my god, Pops, I am not discussing my sex life with you!"
"-but I am unsure if there is hopelessness or helplessness. You have always been strong and trained frequently, so I would not believe you feel helpless. You do feel worthless, and that has become more apparent to me."
"The hell are you talking about?"
"I have not seen evidence of self harm and there have been no suicide attempts. I have seen evidence of guilt that you carry that is irrational, particularly with regards to Kyle Reese. Have you had auditory or visual hallucinations?" Pops asked abruptly.
"Holy fuck, Pops!" Sarah cried incredulously. "No! What the hell are you talking about?!"
"I have gone through the diagnostic criteria for major depression as delineated by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition," Pops intoned. "Aside from the depressed mood, which must be present for at least two weeks to qualify as a mood episode, you would need at least five other symptoms that are not better explained for by other medical issues or other psychiatric illnesses."
"I don't have a psychiatric illness!"
"Negative," Pops replied. His expression was that same blank earnest one he tended to get when Sarah had her tantrums as a child. She had to eat her vegetables, she had to have some kind of calcium rich food, she had to have protein and grains. She would not have any sweets or unhealthy items that could impede her ability to grow. "You exhibit all the symptoms that are required to assign the diagnosis of major depressive disorder, moderate in severity, without psychotic features."
"I'll show you psychotic," Sarah grumbled, wishing for a gun.
"Psychosis as a medical term refers to the disconnect from appreciating reality as it is. Modern media has corrupted the true meaning of the term to refer to violent impulses."
"Oh, I've got the violent impulses."
"In trying to defeat the other Terminators, such impulses were appropriate. You have successfully curbed them in inappropriate situations, such as going to work or attending classes at college. I do not see you becoming inappropriately violent toward Kyle Reese, even when you are upset with him or say demeaning things."
"God, Pops," Sarah said, turning away from him and stomping her foot while covering her face with her hands. "You need to fucking shut up."
"Remaining silent will not make these symptoms go away. The natural progression of a depressed episode can last over a year on average. The use of therapy and medication can decrease the severity and length of a depressive episode."
"Jesus Christ, I don't believe this."
"You must believe it. I am to care for your wellbeing, and that concerns mental health as well as physical health. Earlier, the primary focus has been on physical health and keeping you alive. I see this is not enough, and that there should have been focus on coping skills and creating a proper outlet for your emotions. It was not added as part of my programming, but I have corrected the error and will now account for it as well as for Kyle Reese."
Sarah stopped and looked at him. "What?"
"He displays characteristics of post traumatic stress disorder, as well as complicated bereavement and possibly also major depressive disorder. It could also be generalized anxiety disorder, however, because he does not share his thought processes with me."
She plopped down heavily on a chair opposite Pops. "So we're both fucked up, you're saying."
"Negative. Both of you can correct these errors in your functioning by applying the proper treatments. They are common responses to trauma and loss, and neither of you have had the support network necessary to limit the severity of them. I am a support, but emotions are not natural to machinery." He smiled, that eerie grimace that spooked too many people that saw it, and Sarah winced. "Precisely."
Blowing out a long breath, Sarah picked up one of the books. "So you're saying I need a therapist. But talking about all the shit that went down is going to have them call me crazy and get me locked up in a psych ward somewhere."
"It did happen to the alternate version of Sarah Connor."
Giving him a sour look, Sarah tossed the book back down. "You're not making me feel very comfortable about psychiatry and therapy and that kind of shit."
"We will need to take a professional into our confidence."
"Oh, hell, no!"
"Detective O'Brien is aware of your status as time travelers."
"His fellow officers thought he was crazy, remember?"
"You must begin to speak with others that can be trusted." Pops' tone brooked no argument. "The texts of this time are clear that an outside perspective is necessary for therapy to be effective, and that a therapeutic rapport must be reached."
"And you told me not to trust anyone!" Sarah snapped, turning back to Pops with an intense look. "So what is it? Don't trust them, or trust them?"
"Trust certain ones," Pops declared. He gave Sarah a long look. "Kyle Reese's concerns of Skynet are not entirely unfounded. Time paradoxes are well documented in science fiction and in theory of time and energy. That this future has continued without any apparent ripple effects means some form of Skynet still develops."
"Well, fuck. We did all this for nothing!"
"Judgment Day didn't happen as it was originally foretold," Pops reminded her. "Genisys wasn't released on schedule. The future we knew of has been delayed or altered in such a way that we no longer affect it."
"So what does that mean?" Sarah demanded. "Someone else gets to have a fucked up fate?"
"Possibly," Pops told her, implacable as ever. "Your only concern is your own."
Kyle would be home from work soon. Unable to bear seeing him at the moment, she pressed her lips together. "I'm going out. I need to think."
"You may think properly in this apartment."
"Not like this, I can't!"
Sarah left with a perfectly executed flounce, one she hadn't done since she was twelve.
***
Sarah didn't know where she wandered to, as she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. That was never a good idea, and she knew better than that usually, but for some reason she was fixated on Pops' assertion that she was depressed. It didn't feel right, but it didn't feel wrong, either. If Pops said something to Kyle, though, would he run in the opposite direction? In Kyle's version of the future, people were herded into work camps to do all the tasks that machines couldn't, and were killed off in droves. They'd avoid the stink of illness and incapacity of any kind, and Kyle would know that depression was an illness, right? If she did, he had to know that, and how would he be able to look at her if she was sick? How would she be able to look at herself and not think there was something wrong with her?
Before she knew it, she was running into exactly the one person in all of San Francisco that she didn't want to see. Kyle was leaving a diner with a coworker of his, a fairly tall and muscular black man with closely cropped hair, an easy smile and a slight gap between his two front teeth. He had a loose denim shirt on over a paint-stained undershirt and jeans. His work boots were just as beat up and thick soled as Kyle's, and Sarah could easily spot the calluses on his hands from years of construction work.
She suddenly realized that she didn't know his name, just as she didn't know any other of his coworkers, but Kyle knew the name and history of her new friend. Wow, she really was an asshole to him, wasn't she?
Kyle lit up when he saw her, which only seemed to twist the knife in her chest. "Sarah!"
"Oh, this is the famous Sarah," Kyle's friend said, grinning in her direction. Shit, she felt low.
The smile she pasted onto her face was a wilted one, and she gave a halfhearted wave. "Um. Hi."
"You didn't have to meet us," Kyle told her. "Or were you worried about me?"
"I know you can handle yourself," she said. He could, and she really didn't worry about that with him. Even without knowing the name of his friend, the man gave off the vibe of a very mellow and down to earth guy. That was exactly the kind of person that Kyle needed in his life.
"I'm Grant," Kyle's friend said, sticking his hand out for her to shake.
Wow, he even knew how awkward she felt not knowing his name. "Hey. You work with Kyle for very long?" she asked. He didn't seem familiar from the other work site she had seen.
"Since this guy joined the team," Grant said with a grin, like he was proud of Kyle.
Somehow, Sarah got pulled into the pair's trek back to the apartment, and she felt off and awful the entire time. Grant seemed like a nice guy, and she chatted with him on autopilot, rather like the way she used to with gangers back in LA. He laughed at the dumb jokes she made, even after she confessed getting them from Natalie. "I'll see you Monday, man," he told Kyle with a grin when they got to the entrance to the building. "I see why you talk about her the way you do," he added. Maybe Sarah wasn't meant to hear that; she had already gone inside and Kyle was going to lock up. The tone of Grant's voice was jovial, so Kyle had to have said something nice about her, and it felt like a lie.
"You're not feeling well, are you?" Kyle asked as soon as they were back inside the apartment. And thank God, Pops wasn't at the kitchen table. The books still were, though.
"Why do you say that?" she asked defensively. Maybe if she looked at anywhere else in the apartment but him? She probably had some kind of homework to do...
"You're acting weird. You were funny. Usually you're intense, or you're on top of everything-"
"Pops thinks I'm depressed," Sarah blurted, then wanted to kick herself. She was usually good at keeping things to herself. Secrets were her forte.
"Are you?" Kyle asked, brows furrowing in concern but not disgust.
"I don't know," she said, turning away from him for a moment. She turned back at him. "Why are you with me? Really? Because you have to? Because I'm the only one that'll understand what happened with Skynet?"
"Where is this coming from?" Kyle asked.
Sarah hurt to hear the guarded tone in his voice. "It's true, isn't it? You've been thinking about all of this that's happened, and you're regretting coming back, aren't you?"
Something changed in his expression, a strain that was a little more evident; it clearly had been there the whole time, but Sarah had apparently missed it. She had been so caught up in her own worries about fitting in and not jumping at shadows anymore that she had been ignoring the fact that Kyle was in the same position. Maybe worse, actually. Things had gone better when she had paid more attention to him, when she was calling the shots and giving him a place to belong in this world. Since their argument, Sarah had kept her distance, leaving him more alone in his own head. If Pops thought she was depressed, what did he think of Kyle?
"There was always the mission," Kyle said. She didn't know what emotion was fueling the odd note in his voice, but it had to be something dark and unhappy. "John saved me, you know. No matter what timeline, apparently. He was always saving me, always looking out for me."
And she had said John was a shitty friend. Sarah winced at her poor choice of words.
"But if there was an ulterior motive," Kyle continued, eyes locked on her face, "if it wasn't just concern for me, if it wasn't just friendship-"
"Don't, Kyle," Sarah warned, knowing that the creeping dread in her gut was leading somewhere very bad very fast. "Don't say-"
"Then he was using me. And every decision he ever made when it came to me is called into question now," Kyle continued relentlessly. Because of course he thought about this. She wasn't there to stop that train of thought, wasn't there to command him to do something else, and he was just as broken as she was.
"God, Kyle, please don't-"
"I used to be proud of the fact that I was chosen for important missions. That I was trusted enough to know the details, that I could work alone. But it was deliberate, wasn't it?" There was a bitterness in his voice that made Sarah ache to hear. "After all, we can't have me getting too attached to anyone else. Friends would hold me back. Can't let me want to know any other girls if I'm supposed to come back and love you."
Sarah flinched and her lips trembled. "You're mission oriented-"
"And he helped make me that way," Kyle snapped, an angry snarl in his voice she hadn't heard before. "He made me care about the mission more than my own life. No point in getting attached to men in my unit, because they were all going to die anyway. Any time I get close to a woman, she gets reassigned to another team several states away. He tells me stories about you, about the past that we don't remember. And it's a way to control me, isn't it?" The pain in his expression made Sarah tear up and bite her lip. "His priority wasn't me, not as the friend that I thought he was. He just needed me to volunteer to go to the past. He needed me to meet you, to fall in love you, to become his father."
"You saved lives," Sarah said, her voice feeling raw and wrenched out of her. The words felt pathetic, a paltry excuse of a positive, and it was all she could give him.
"Side benefit," Kyle replied with a sneer, and Sarah felt the tears begin to spill. "Everything was manufactured. Manipulated. Maybe he wasn't even infected when I got sent back. Maybe it was always that way. He was always a son of a bitch. I guess I never realized how far back it actually went, how much of a bastard he actually was."
"He was your friend, though," Sarah said, feeling something shatter inside of her and slip out of her hands, not knowing how to fix it.
"Shitty friend, as you keep pointing out."
"Maybe you're better off without us, then," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Connors just fuck up your life. I'm surprised you don't hate me after all of this, after what's happened. We just ruin everything."
At the same time she said the words, another part of her was screaming at him not to leave, that she would be alone again, that everything would be empty, and the entire meaning of her life would be gone.
Kyle turned away, not saying a word for a long moment. She was so sure he was going to leave, that he would choose to strike out on his own. Or with Grant, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and he and Kyle's work buddies laughed. She could fuck Kyle, she could command him, she could drive him to his knees. But she didn't know how to be soft, to be the kind of girl that he had expected to find when he had gone back.
She ruined everything, and John had gotten that from her, too.
"Is that what you think?" Kyle asked, his voice strained.
"What else can I think?"
He turned back to look at her, and simply stared for a moment. "There's plenty of other things that you could think."
"Like what?" Sarah asked, resentment and disbelief bubbling up in spite of wanting to push the words back down her throat. "Our son was a shitty friend that warped you and manipulated you from the get-go to ensure that he would be conceived. He kept you from making friends, from figuring out what he was doing. You lost your parents and your perfect house and wonderful life because of the machines trying to wipe out humanity. You almost died so many times, and don't even tell me you haven't, because I've seen the scars all over your body. I know you were at a work camp, I know you've talked about experiments, and somehow you still managed to get a tattoo on your arm like it's no big deal."
His lips thinned in discomfort, and Sarah knew she was probably triggering some kind of awful memory. She really should have tamped down on her urge to talk. But it was like the floodgates were opened, and all the dregs of her soul were spilling out in spite of herself.
"Anyone you might've cared about was gone. Either John got rid of them, or they died. So you fix your attention on someone that won't ever go away, and John of course will love that. You're stuck with him, and he wants you to go back. So you convince yourself that you love me, that I need saving. You tell yourself that I need it, and that you'll fix everything like you couldn't for your future. You buried everyone else but your idea of me, after all-"
"You need to stop now," Kyle said, voice low and aching.
"-but then I show up, and I'm nothing like the stories. I'm not what you imagined at all, I know that. I'm worse. I'm a bitch, I'm heartless, I'm a liar. I'm nothing of what anyone ever said, because of course my son is an asshole, and he's only going to give you the pretty bits, the stories that you need to have to love me. It doesn't even matter what he said, does it? He probably lied, probably put together whatever he wanted to once he realized what you wanted to hear. That's all it ever was, twisting you into someone who would be more than willing to be a baby daddy. John wouldn't have told you, but he was sending you back to fuck me and die. And if that's not utterly fucked up, I don't know what is."
Emotions warred on Kyle's face, and Sarah wished suddenly she knew what he was thinking. Or that she had stopped herself from saying such horrible things to him.
"People see what they want to see," Kyle said after a long moment. His voice sounded raw and pained, and Sarah could feel the tears on her face burning hot. She deserved that, though. She had hurt him, and it was only fair that she hurt a little in return.
"I'm sorry we ruined your life," she said weakly, sniffling a little. "I'm sorry we're such shitty people to you."
He could walk out the door of the apartment, never looking back. He could tell her that he hated her, that yes, she ruined his life and all the hope he had for this future. He could tell her that she ruined his memories of his best friend, of his comrades, and rendered all his past struggles pointless. He could tell her he was leaving. He could find some other way to support himself, and plenty of his coworkers would put him up for the night or indefinitely. He had friends, he didn't need her and Pops.
She was the pathetic one. She was the one that drove everyone away.
In her wildest dreams, maybe he would pull her close and comfort her as she cried. Maybe he would tell her that she wasn't the bitchy asshole she thought she was. Maybe he would tell her again that he loved her anyway, that he could forgive her for being the awful person that she had become, instead of the helpless girl he had thought he was getting.
The silence stretched out, and Sarah wiped at her face. It was awkward and painful, and Sarah didn't know what Kyle would do next.
"You aren't the one that ruined my life," Kyle said finally, when she was done sniffling.
"But I haven't helped," Sarah began.
"And I won't have you ruining your own," he continued.
To her infinite surprise, Kyle did something Sarah never thought he would: he bent down to kiss her forehead, then pushed her toward bed. "Go to sleep. It'll seem less terrible in the morning."
"We're still going to be in the same place as now."
"I know. But everything looks worse when it's dark and you're tired," Kyle replied. "Sleep. We'll talk more about it in the morning," he said. There was a weary slump in his shoulders, and Sarah wanted to reach out to him, to beg him to forgive her.
Her damn pride kept her lips glued shut.
That seemed to make Kyle even sadder, and she wanted to kick herself. Look at her, she couldn't even do silence right. She was hurting him even without trying, without saying a word, and that had to be the most awful talent she had.
Sarah looked around the bedroom and knew she couldn't stay in there, remembering the feel of his skin or the way he felt beneath her. She didn't deserve those reminders. And he should have the bed to sleep in, not the couch and Pops keeping the light on in the living room.
When it sounded like Kyle was in the bathroom, she was the one to leave. She had nothing with her but her wallet and cell phone, and nowhere to go.
What a loser.
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To Chapter Eight - Miles From Where You Are