[SCC] Five Siblings John Connor Never Had
TITLE: Five Siblings John Connor Never Had
AUTHOR: indiefic
CHARACTERS: various
RATING: Teen
WORD COUNT: ~2700
WARNINGS: Spoilers for the entire Terminator universe as well as a good chunk of AU stuff I made up.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Don't know who does.
TIMELINE: various
NOTES: Very much inspired by life-on-queen’s untitled SCC/Farscape crossover
SUMMARY: John Connor is his parents’ only child. But what if he wasn’t?
***
I. April
sequel-ish to my story The Price of Victory
Her name was April Angela Reese. April for the month of her birth. Angela for the city of her birth. And Reese because she was his.
It occurred to Derek that it wasn’t the most original name ever bestowed upon a child. Despite the trendy, whimsical names favored in this time, Derek honored his own time, when children were named for very practical reasons. Names told a story. Names had significance.
April Angela Reese was the single most precious thing in her father’s universe. Mostly because he knew that she should never have been born. April was here only because John was dead. And as much as Derek wanted to change the future, he never would have done it at the cost of his nephew’s life. Derek knew to the very core of his being that April was not meant to be.
He had known that something was off. While Sarah had been despondent in the months following John’s death, she became absolutely lethargic. She slept all the time. She was so painfully thin that when her abdomen started protruding, Derek couldn’t help but notice. He wasn’t an idiot. He understood human biology. He and Sarah shared a bed. They fucked occasionally. But part of him couldn’t believe that the joyless physical acts he shared with Sarah were capable of creating anything, least of all a life. Especially not a life.
He wondered for a while if Sarah was sick, if it was a growth or a tumor. But one night in bed, it kicked and Derek knew that despite the crushing misery that enveloped all of them, that he and Sarah had indeed created a life.
Nothing could coerce Sarah into going to the doctor. April was born in the rundown bungalow in north Hollywood where they were living. Derek and Cameron acted as midwives and a bottle of dark rum cut the pain even if it couldn’t cut the misery.
Derek held out hope for the first few days after April’s birth that Sarah might snap out of it, that maternal instinct might override her crushing depression. But it didn’t. It seemed like all her maternal instincts had been used up on John - died with John. And April was left with nothing.
Derek lived through the end of the world. He had seen humans not only survive, but thrive in situations so horrific he shuddered simply thinking about it. April might as well have been motherless, but she certainly had a father. And a brother. Even if April never met John, Derek would make sure she knew him.
***
II. Brave New World
“He’s cute. He looks like you.” John bounces Tommy in his arms and looks at Sanders. She’s young, new to the camp, trying to make friends.
John smiles awkwardly. “Actually he’s - “
“That’s not John’s kid,” Derek says flatly, giving Sanders a dirty look. “He’s my nephew. Kyle’s son.”
John doesn’t track for a minute. He thinks Derek is talking about him. But then it comes crashing back, this nightmare world he’s stuck in where Derek doesn’t know they’re related, where Derek doesn’t know time travel is possible and where John is stuck playing stepfather to his own half-brother.
“Oh,” Sanders stammers, thrown by Derek’s hostility. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - “
Derek turns and leaves without bothering to look at her again. Sanders swallows thickly, giving John a sheepish look.
“It’s okay,” John says quietly. “Derek’s pretty shaken up about Kyle’s death.” It’s the understatement of the millennium. Derek’s a fucking basketcase. And so is John. But while Derek is free to take it out on everyone around him, John can’t even acknowledge it because it doesn’t make any sense that he’d mourn the death of a man he hardly knew. It makes even less sense that John would hook up with the dead man’s girlfriend and be stuck trying to raise his kid as his own.
“Well, I, uh,” Sanders fights for any words to make it better.
“He does look like me,” John says, looking down at Tommy. At six months old, the little boy has bright green eyes and a tuft of dark hair. People always said John looked like his mother, so he assumed it was true. But he figures he must have resembled Kyle as well. Enough for Derek, John’s uncle Derek, to recognize him as Kyle’s son. And enough that Sanders can see the familial resemblance between John and Tommy, the son Allison gave birth to months after Kyle’s death.
The irony makes John’s heart ache. He’s never had more family. And he’s never felt more alone.
***
III. Eight Years and Eight Weeks
Sarah spit the water in the sink and groaned, bracing her hands against the vanity and leaning forward until her forehead connected with the cool glass of the mirror. She felt like death warmed over. How did this happen? She screwed her eyes shut tightly.
There was a rustle and Sarah snapped to attention, coming face to face with Cameron. The terminator gingerly plucked the small plastic stick from the countertop, looking at it and then to Sarah. "A pregnancy would severely compromise your ability to adequately protect John," Cameron said blandly.
Snatching the pregnancy test out of the machine's hand, Sarah shoved it in her pocket. "What would you know about it?"
Cameron cocked her head to the side and her gaze fell to Sarah's washboard flat abdomen. "I know for women of your physical dimensions a weight gain of up to thirty pounds is not uncommon. Changes to your anatomy would hinder your mobility and hormonal shifts could cause behavior to become erratic."
Sarah leaned forward, crowding Cameron as if the machine was susceptible to physical intimidation. "I already know that. I've done this before. Get out of here and keep your mouth shut about this."
Cameron held her gaze for a moment and then turned, leaving the bathroom. Sarah pushed the door shut and locked it. With a sigh, she put the toilet lid down and then sat down heavily. Bracing her elbows against her knees, she cradled her face in her hands and groaned. Jesus. This couldn't be real. When did this happen? She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she bled.
For years, Sarah had known the smart choice would be to have herself surgically sterilized. But there was never a good time. Because it was surgery and there was downtime and she could never afford to leave John unguarded for even the few days it would take to recover. She used an IUD for years, then finally gave it up after her second PID in a year while she was at Pescadero.
She was too smart, too careful for something like this to happen. For the first time in a very long time, she found herself in truly uncharted waters. When she discovered she was pregnant with John, there was never a moment's hesitation. She knew what he meant, not only to her, but to the world. She knew how important he was to humanity. And even if she hadn't, John was her only connection to Kyle, for whom she grieved deeply. There was never any question that she would carry the baby to term, raise him, love him, protect him.
But this pregnancy … It was stupid. And careless. A total accident. Because as Cameron so helpfully pointed out, Sarah couldn't afford to have her attention divided by a second child. John Connor couldn't afford to have a sibling. Because it took every bit of her efforts just to keep him safe and whole and breathing.
But this pregnancy was also her child and …
How did she let this happen?
Perversely, Sarah wished like hell she could talk to Kyle. Or even an adult John Connor. She needed someone to tell her how stupid it was to even consider carrying this pregnancy to term. She needed someone to tell her in no uncertain terms that John was too valuable, that of all the sacrifices she'd made for him over the years, ending this pregnancy might just be the most important.
With a shake of her head, Sarah pushed herself to her feet and forced herself to leave the bathroom. She made her way to the kitchen, lost in thought.
“Are you going to tell John about the pregnancy?”
Sarah glared at Cameron and then glanced at the door to John’s room. She could hear the music filtering out. It was loud enough that John probably couldn’t hear their conversation.
“No. And you aren’t either.”
“What about Charley Dixon?”
Sarah opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. She frowned. "My body. My kid. And I'm not talking to Charley about anything. Besides, he’s long gone."
“Charley Dixon isn’t long gone. He lives here, in Los Angeles.”
Sarah stared, stunned. “Charley’s here?”
“Yes. He’s employed as a paramedic. His wife is a nurse.”
Sarah blinked and then swallowed thickly, her stomach churning uncomfortably. “Wife?”
“Yes. Michelle Dixon.”
She stared straight ahead, looking out the window at the swing set. She knew that Cameron was staring at her expectantly. "John Connor, the John Connor you knew in the future. He didn't have any siblings, did he?"
"No."
"Yeah, well," Sarah said thickly, "there's my answer." She didn’t realize until she said it that she’d been holding out hope that this, like John, was predestined, that she wouldn’t have to make a choice. She should have known better. That was her lot in life, making the hard choices. "I'll make an appointment with the clinic. You'll need to make sure John gets to school."
***
IV. A Girl
John stared at the announcement without comprehending it. It was a feed from the Philadelphia Inquirer.
August 27, 2025.
Madison Keller and Kyle Reese, Levittown, a girl.
John set up automated searches years ago to keep tabs on any stories on the net relating to Kyle and Derek. He also had searches for Allison Young. And another for Savannah Weaver. Occasionally they would grab bits of local news. A graduation announcement here. A military commendation there. Allison’s bankruptcy filing. Derek’s two DUIs.
John never met this Kyle Reese - the Kyle Reese who grew up with a completely uneventful childhood, who went to USC for his undergrad and then transferred to Philadelphia for a post-doc. John had no idea Kyle had a girlfriend, much less that she was pregnant.
A baby girl. John Connor had a sister.
***
V. Sibling Rivalry
“You fucking asshole!” Jason yells, throwing his pack against the wall, glaring at John.
John glances up, his expression unreadable. Around the room, the seasoned soldiers shift nervously, looking from John to Jason and back. The list of people brave enough to barge into John Connor’s war room and verbally assault him is short. So short in fact, it only has one name - Jason Connor.
“Give us a few minutes,” John says evenly.
The group of John’s top advisors files out of the room without a word.
John straightens to his full height, which is slightly taller than Jason, and looks at the man ten years his junior. “You have a problem?”
“Yeah I have a problem,” Jason snaps. “You. You self-righteous fuck.”
John stares at Jason. The list of blame that he’s willing to lay at John’s feet is never ending and John long ago gave up trying to defend himself. “What is it now?” John asks.
“You fucking refused my transfer,” Jason seethes. He looks like hell. John suspects that Jason spent the last three days riding like hell down the Pacific coast just so he could rage at John. Certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Jason’s clothes are dirty, stained. His worn gray t-shirt is torn at the neck and the old scar is pale and shiny, raggedly bisecting the swarthy flesh of his chest. Aside from their random assortment of mismatched scars and slight difference in height, Jason and John resemble one another quite closely. They have the same dark hair, though John’s is shorn close to the skull and Jason’s almost brushes his shoulders, the same intense green eyes, the same perpetually stoic expression.
“Technically, no,” John replies. “I didn’t refuse your transfer request. Perry did.”
“Yeah, because he knows that’s what you want,” Jason counters through gritted teeth.
John sighs. “You’re more useful to the Resistance as second in command at the Mt. Hood camp.”
“Yeah and if I’m in Oregon, there’s no chance I’ll get that assignment.” Jason shakes his head. “You two fucking did this to me again. You and Mom treating me like I’m some stupid kid who can’t take care of himself.”
John looks as Jason, all too aware of how angry Jason is, how betrayed he feels. John wishes like hell there was something he could do to make it better, but he’s learned the hard way that there isn’t. And there’s no use in pussyfooting around the issue. “You were never going to get that assignment, Jason,” John says bluntly.
Jason’s expression hardens even further and it eats at John’s soul just a little bit more.
“Thanks,” Jason replies darkly. “It’s nice to know that you trust metal more than your own flesh and blood.”
“Jason, it’s not like that,” John tries to say, but Jason is already storming out of the room.
John steps into the hall and watches him go until he’s out of sight. John will radio Cameron, have her keep an eye on Jason. Not that he’s going anywhere. If there’s anything John knows about Jason it’s that he’ll find the nearest still and drink himself into oblivion before he leaves camp.
Turning, John walks back into his war room, scrubbing a hand through his short hair.
“Guess your brother didn’t take the news too well.”
John turns and looks at Perry. He shrugs.
“Jason has a point,” Perry says cautiously. It’s very unlike him to meddle in Connor family affairs, but he knows how hard the last couple of years have been on John. “Maybe it would be better to send him than the metal.”
John shakes his head. “The metal has to go. The one Cameron’s been working on. That’s the one.”
Perry looks at him for a long moment. “You really trust that thing with your son?”
John smiles mirthlessly. “No. But I don’t have a choice.” John wishes like hell he did. He wishes like hell there was any viable alternative other than sending his only son, sixteen month old Lucas, through time with a reprogrammed cyborg. But he doesn’t. Lucas is dying. The fact that he’s lived this long with his heart condition is a miracle in itself. They don’t have the technology or resources in this time to provide the little boy with the level of medical intervention he needs. If he stays in this time, he dies.
John crosses the room and looks at the calculations again. They’re solid. But he already knew that. He knew that because he already lived it. The machine will succeed. It will take Lucas back in time and John’s only son will get the help he needs. He’ll live to be a man.
“You sure the machine will find someone to take the boy in?” Perry presses.
John nods. The machine will find a home for Lucas. Family. Actual flesh and blood family. That last part made Kate feel a little better. Not a lot, but a little. Knowing that her baby wouldn’t be orphaned. Considering the only alternative was burying their son, Kate didn’t have a lot of options.
This way Lucas would get to grow up in a world that wasn’t all burned to hell.
He would have his grandmother and his father, though he would believe his grandmother was his mother and his father was his brother.
He would be called Jason.
And he would never know the truth.
But he would live. And in the end, that was the most important thing to John.
***
[END]
AUTHOR: indiefic
CHARACTERS: various
RATING: Teen
WORD COUNT: ~2700
WARNINGS: Spoilers for the entire Terminator universe as well as a good chunk of AU stuff I made up.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Don't know who does.
TIMELINE: various
NOTES: Very much inspired by life-on-queen’s untitled SCC/Farscape crossover
SUMMARY: John Connor is his parents’ only child. But what if he wasn’t?
***
I. April
sequel-ish to my story The Price of Victory
Her name was April Angela Reese. April for the month of her birth. Angela for the city of her birth. And Reese because she was his.
It occurred to Derek that it wasn’t the most original name ever bestowed upon a child. Despite the trendy, whimsical names favored in this time, Derek honored his own time, when children were named for very practical reasons. Names told a story. Names had significance.
April Angela Reese was the single most precious thing in her father’s universe. Mostly because he knew that she should never have been born. April was here only because John was dead. And as much as Derek wanted to change the future, he never would have done it at the cost of his nephew’s life. Derek knew to the very core of his being that April was not meant to be.
He had known that something was off. While Sarah had been despondent in the months following John’s death, she became absolutely lethargic. She slept all the time. She was so painfully thin that when her abdomen started protruding, Derek couldn’t help but notice. He wasn’t an idiot. He understood human biology. He and Sarah shared a bed. They fucked occasionally. But part of him couldn’t believe that the joyless physical acts he shared with Sarah were capable of creating anything, least of all a life. Especially not a life.
He wondered for a while if Sarah was sick, if it was a growth or a tumor. But one night in bed, it kicked and Derek knew that despite the crushing misery that enveloped all of them, that he and Sarah had indeed created a life.
Nothing could coerce Sarah into going to the doctor. April was born in the rundown bungalow in north Hollywood where they were living. Derek and Cameron acted as midwives and a bottle of dark rum cut the pain even if it couldn’t cut the misery.
Derek held out hope for the first few days after April’s birth that Sarah might snap out of it, that maternal instinct might override her crushing depression. But it didn’t. It seemed like all her maternal instincts had been used up on John - died with John. And April was left with nothing.
Derek lived through the end of the world. He had seen humans not only survive, but thrive in situations so horrific he shuddered simply thinking about it. April might as well have been motherless, but she certainly had a father. And a brother. Even if April never met John, Derek would make sure she knew him.
***
II. Brave New World
“He’s cute. He looks like you.” John bounces Tommy in his arms and looks at Sanders. She’s young, new to the camp, trying to make friends.
John smiles awkwardly. “Actually he’s - “
“That’s not John’s kid,” Derek says flatly, giving Sanders a dirty look. “He’s my nephew. Kyle’s son.”
John doesn’t track for a minute. He thinks Derek is talking about him. But then it comes crashing back, this nightmare world he’s stuck in where Derek doesn’t know they’re related, where Derek doesn’t know time travel is possible and where John is stuck playing stepfather to his own half-brother.
“Oh,” Sanders stammers, thrown by Derek’s hostility. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - “
Derek turns and leaves without bothering to look at her again. Sanders swallows thickly, giving John a sheepish look.
“It’s okay,” John says quietly. “Derek’s pretty shaken up about Kyle’s death.” It’s the understatement of the millennium. Derek’s a fucking basketcase. And so is John. But while Derek is free to take it out on everyone around him, John can’t even acknowledge it because it doesn’t make any sense that he’d mourn the death of a man he hardly knew. It makes even less sense that John would hook up with the dead man’s girlfriend and be stuck trying to raise his kid as his own.
“Well, I, uh,” Sanders fights for any words to make it better.
“He does look like me,” John says, looking down at Tommy. At six months old, the little boy has bright green eyes and a tuft of dark hair. People always said John looked like his mother, so he assumed it was true. But he figures he must have resembled Kyle as well. Enough for Derek, John’s uncle Derek, to recognize him as Kyle’s son. And enough that Sanders can see the familial resemblance between John and Tommy, the son Allison gave birth to months after Kyle’s death.
The irony makes John’s heart ache. He’s never had more family. And he’s never felt more alone.
***
III. Eight Years and Eight Weeks
Sarah spit the water in the sink and groaned, bracing her hands against the vanity and leaning forward until her forehead connected with the cool glass of the mirror. She felt like death warmed over. How did this happen? She screwed her eyes shut tightly.
There was a rustle and Sarah snapped to attention, coming face to face with Cameron. The terminator gingerly plucked the small plastic stick from the countertop, looking at it and then to Sarah. "A pregnancy would severely compromise your ability to adequately protect John," Cameron said blandly.
Snatching the pregnancy test out of the machine's hand, Sarah shoved it in her pocket. "What would you know about it?"
Cameron cocked her head to the side and her gaze fell to Sarah's washboard flat abdomen. "I know for women of your physical dimensions a weight gain of up to thirty pounds is not uncommon. Changes to your anatomy would hinder your mobility and hormonal shifts could cause behavior to become erratic."
Sarah leaned forward, crowding Cameron as if the machine was susceptible to physical intimidation. "I already know that. I've done this before. Get out of here and keep your mouth shut about this."
Cameron held her gaze for a moment and then turned, leaving the bathroom. Sarah pushed the door shut and locked it. With a sigh, she put the toilet lid down and then sat down heavily. Bracing her elbows against her knees, she cradled her face in her hands and groaned. Jesus. This couldn't be real. When did this happen? She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she bled.
For years, Sarah had known the smart choice would be to have herself surgically sterilized. But there was never a good time. Because it was surgery and there was downtime and she could never afford to leave John unguarded for even the few days it would take to recover. She used an IUD for years, then finally gave it up after her second PID in a year while she was at Pescadero.
She was too smart, too careful for something like this to happen. For the first time in a very long time, she found herself in truly uncharted waters. When she discovered she was pregnant with John, there was never a moment's hesitation. She knew what he meant, not only to her, but to the world. She knew how important he was to humanity. And even if she hadn't, John was her only connection to Kyle, for whom she grieved deeply. There was never any question that she would carry the baby to term, raise him, love him, protect him.
But this pregnancy … It was stupid. And careless. A total accident. Because as Cameron so helpfully pointed out, Sarah couldn't afford to have her attention divided by a second child. John Connor couldn't afford to have a sibling. Because it took every bit of her efforts just to keep him safe and whole and breathing.
But this pregnancy was also her child and …
How did she let this happen?
Perversely, Sarah wished like hell she could talk to Kyle. Or even an adult John Connor. She needed someone to tell her how stupid it was to even consider carrying this pregnancy to term. She needed someone to tell her in no uncertain terms that John was too valuable, that of all the sacrifices she'd made for him over the years, ending this pregnancy might just be the most important.
With a shake of her head, Sarah pushed herself to her feet and forced herself to leave the bathroom. She made her way to the kitchen, lost in thought.
“Are you going to tell John about the pregnancy?”
Sarah glared at Cameron and then glanced at the door to John’s room. She could hear the music filtering out. It was loud enough that John probably couldn’t hear their conversation.
“No. And you aren’t either.”
“What about Charley Dixon?”
Sarah opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. She frowned. "My body. My kid. And I'm not talking to Charley about anything. Besides, he’s long gone."
“Charley Dixon isn’t long gone. He lives here, in Los Angeles.”
Sarah stared, stunned. “Charley’s here?”
“Yes. He’s employed as a paramedic. His wife is a nurse.”
Sarah blinked and then swallowed thickly, her stomach churning uncomfortably. “Wife?”
“Yes. Michelle Dixon.”
She stared straight ahead, looking out the window at the swing set. She knew that Cameron was staring at her expectantly. "John Connor, the John Connor you knew in the future. He didn't have any siblings, did he?"
"No."
"Yeah, well," Sarah said thickly, "there's my answer." She didn’t realize until she said it that she’d been holding out hope that this, like John, was predestined, that she wouldn’t have to make a choice. She should have known better. That was her lot in life, making the hard choices. "I'll make an appointment with the clinic. You'll need to make sure John gets to school."
***
IV. A Girl
John stared at the announcement without comprehending it. It was a feed from the Philadelphia Inquirer.
August 27, 2025.
Madison Keller and Kyle Reese, Levittown, a girl.
John set up automated searches years ago to keep tabs on any stories on the net relating to Kyle and Derek. He also had searches for Allison Young. And another for Savannah Weaver. Occasionally they would grab bits of local news. A graduation announcement here. A military commendation there. Allison’s bankruptcy filing. Derek’s two DUIs.
John never met this Kyle Reese - the Kyle Reese who grew up with a completely uneventful childhood, who went to USC for his undergrad and then transferred to Philadelphia for a post-doc. John had no idea Kyle had a girlfriend, much less that she was pregnant.
A baby girl. John Connor had a sister.
***
V. Sibling Rivalry
“You fucking asshole!” Jason yells, throwing his pack against the wall, glaring at John.
John glances up, his expression unreadable. Around the room, the seasoned soldiers shift nervously, looking from John to Jason and back. The list of people brave enough to barge into John Connor’s war room and verbally assault him is short. So short in fact, it only has one name - Jason Connor.
“Give us a few minutes,” John says evenly.
The group of John’s top advisors files out of the room without a word.
John straightens to his full height, which is slightly taller than Jason, and looks at the man ten years his junior. “You have a problem?”
“Yeah I have a problem,” Jason snaps. “You. You self-righteous fuck.”
John stares at Jason. The list of blame that he’s willing to lay at John’s feet is never ending and John long ago gave up trying to defend himself. “What is it now?” John asks.
“You fucking refused my transfer,” Jason seethes. He looks like hell. John suspects that Jason spent the last three days riding like hell down the Pacific coast just so he could rage at John. Certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Jason’s clothes are dirty, stained. His worn gray t-shirt is torn at the neck and the old scar is pale and shiny, raggedly bisecting the swarthy flesh of his chest. Aside from their random assortment of mismatched scars and slight difference in height, Jason and John resemble one another quite closely. They have the same dark hair, though John’s is shorn close to the skull and Jason’s almost brushes his shoulders, the same intense green eyes, the same perpetually stoic expression.
“Technically, no,” John replies. “I didn’t refuse your transfer request. Perry did.”
“Yeah, because he knows that’s what you want,” Jason counters through gritted teeth.
John sighs. “You’re more useful to the Resistance as second in command at the Mt. Hood camp.”
“Yeah and if I’m in Oregon, there’s no chance I’ll get that assignment.” Jason shakes his head. “You two fucking did this to me again. You and Mom treating me like I’m some stupid kid who can’t take care of himself.”
John looks as Jason, all too aware of how angry Jason is, how betrayed he feels. John wishes like hell there was something he could do to make it better, but he’s learned the hard way that there isn’t. And there’s no use in pussyfooting around the issue. “You were never going to get that assignment, Jason,” John says bluntly.
Jason’s expression hardens even further and it eats at John’s soul just a little bit more.
“Thanks,” Jason replies darkly. “It’s nice to know that you trust metal more than your own flesh and blood.”
“Jason, it’s not like that,” John tries to say, but Jason is already storming out of the room.
John steps into the hall and watches him go until he’s out of sight. John will radio Cameron, have her keep an eye on Jason. Not that he’s going anywhere. If there’s anything John knows about Jason it’s that he’ll find the nearest still and drink himself into oblivion before he leaves camp.
Turning, John walks back into his war room, scrubbing a hand through his short hair.
“Guess your brother didn’t take the news too well.”
John turns and looks at Perry. He shrugs.
“Jason has a point,” Perry says cautiously. It’s very unlike him to meddle in Connor family affairs, but he knows how hard the last couple of years have been on John. “Maybe it would be better to send him than the metal.”
John shakes his head. “The metal has to go. The one Cameron’s been working on. That’s the one.”
Perry looks at him for a long moment. “You really trust that thing with your son?”
John smiles mirthlessly. “No. But I don’t have a choice.” John wishes like hell he did. He wishes like hell there was any viable alternative other than sending his only son, sixteen month old Lucas, through time with a reprogrammed cyborg. But he doesn’t. Lucas is dying. The fact that he’s lived this long with his heart condition is a miracle in itself. They don’t have the technology or resources in this time to provide the little boy with the level of medical intervention he needs. If he stays in this time, he dies.
John crosses the room and looks at the calculations again. They’re solid. But he already knew that. He knew that because he already lived it. The machine will succeed. It will take Lucas back in time and John’s only son will get the help he needs. He’ll live to be a man.
“You sure the machine will find someone to take the boy in?” Perry presses.
John nods. The machine will find a home for Lucas. Family. Actual flesh and blood family. That last part made Kate feel a little better. Not a lot, but a little. Knowing that her baby wouldn’t be orphaned. Considering the only alternative was burying their son, Kate didn’t have a lot of options.
This way Lucas would get to grow up in a world that wasn’t all burned to hell.
He would have his grandmother and his father, though he would believe his grandmother was his mother and his father was his brother.
He would be called Jason.
And he would never know the truth.
But he would live. And in the end, that was the most important thing to John.
***
[END]