Independence Day
Title: Independence Day
Author: MissNyah
Fandom: T: SCC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,500
Summary: scc_reloaded challenge fic, Written for beatrice_otterwho asked for "How Kyle and Derek survived Judgment Dayand learned to fight back.
Characters: Kyle, Derek, Sarah
Independence Day
If, in March, you’d been in the car with me and Derek and MomandDad, if you were driving down one of the big roads in the city and you’d just come back from visiting your Grandma’s house (the cat-food smell Grandma, the one who calls Derek, LittleMan, and you, BabyBoy), you would have seen your last fireworks. The last good ones anyway. Some rich guy was having a birthday party. Rich people have magicians and bands and fireworks for their birthdays. But they have so many friends too that you must have to wait an awful long time for cake.
When I saw them I thought I’d have to take the blurryvision test and get glasses like Dad. But when I said that the fireworks looked fuzzy, Mom said it was the smog and we had to put the windows on the car up so she wouldn’t cough up her lungs. The fireworks were not as good as 4th of July or baseball game fireworks (which are funny fireworks because they’re good if your team wins but traitors if the other team wins). They were little and far away. They didn’t follow us as well as the moon did even though it was little and far away too.
I asked Derek what happened to fireworks that made them explode instead of just coming down like a baseball. Derek shrugged his shoulders, Idunno, because he doesn’t like to say it out loud when Dad can hear. I thought about baseballs tossed up high in the sky, exploding into stars before they could drop and I could miss them and Derek could practice his grown-up sigh.
I thought maybe fireworks exploded because the sun wasn’t there to keep an eye on them. When I asked Derek, he laughed and reminded MomandDad how I used to think it rained worms. My nose wrinkled up with after rain wormy smell. I reminded Derek and MomandDad that I had been little then. But they still laughed at raindrop worms and exploding baseballs.
Still, I asked Derek if he wanted to play catch when we got home but MomandDad surprised Derek with a cake because the next day was a school day and Derek’s birthday. We sang happy birthday to you and I pretended Derek was a rich guy and the fireworks were his.
If, in April, you were getting an early sunburn with the kids at the public pool, or if you were barefoot in the basement and came out to the lawn for a look, or if you were playing in the sunshine with not-exploding baseballs, then you would have seen fireworks too. When I saw them I put down the baseball bat and asked Derek why there were fireworks in the daytime. He moved his shoulders, Idunno, Idunno, even though Dad was working in the city and wouldn’t hear him.
We waited a long time for MomandDad to come home and fix dinner. I looked at the two watches on my wrist. One had been too big until it had a new hole justforme punched in the band. When it was too big it was Dad’s and kept the time for twenty good years. But the new hole watch was stopped a few seconds before six. The time Dad got home from work. My other watch had Spiderman whose hands fought a slow, tangled-up fight with the hours. It glowed green when I pushed a button. I wore them side-by-side and waited for the minute when they became twins and the minute Dad walked through the door. Sometimes they were the same minute but not today.
Derek told me I could play in his room while he watched the news like he does when he’s being a grown up. I said, okay, because I hate the news and Derek never lets me play in his room.
I came out to look for Derek when I got hungry. He was flipping through snow channels. I shrugged my Idunno shoulders and I asked Derek if we could make the mini-pizzas from the freezer. There were loud noises outside like the whole world was echoing. The windows were open and burnt-match air came through them smelling of birthday cakes and fireworks.
Derek’s footsteps pounded through the house. He came into the kitchen with his backpack and eyes white all around and said, we have to go. I told Derek the pizzas weren’t ready yet. They were hot-frozen and full of boiled ice crystals. Derek said eat them anyway, them or nothingatall.
If, in the months after, you’d run through forever traffic jams of cars-empty-of-people, if you’d eaten things worse than half-frozen pizza, worse than nothingatall, if you’d tried to sleep in burnt-match air with eyes white all around, you would have seen fireworks everyday. In those days Derek’s Idunno shoulders brought us to one neighbor’s house and them another. They tossed rocks to knock windows like baby teeth out of houses. They straightened up to pretend they were old enough to drive.
The fireworks, in those days, were missing colors like I missed my parents. They were all angry reds and much too-bright yellows. They burned too hot and too close, shaking the ground and exploding in the dark behind my eyes. I pressed the button on the Spiderman watch and found the missing green and tried to use the light to find the missing father who was due back in a few seconds, at six o’clock.
We ran from neighborhoods of houses to neighborhoods of bricks and siding. Neighborhoods built in reverse. Finally, we ducked beneath burnt-match air and opened eyes white all around in tunnels built for a war that had come thirty years too late.
If in the early days you’d been hunted for your skin and bones and teeth, if through a fever dream you’d seen Derek, Little Man, eyes white all around, kick a boy to death for some medicine, if in your real maple-wonderful dreams you saw clean socks and baseballs, you would have noticed Sarah Connor. Sarah Connor who flashed into the tunnel-world like a firework before the bang. Sarah Connor who put out a hand and stopped Derek’s Idunno shoulders.
Idunno, I dunno, I-
Once the world had been full of mothers but they’d changed in the explosion of daytime fireworks, fallen down like houses built in reverse. Only Sarah Connor was left, standing in the shadows with an I’ve been waiting for you face.
In those first weeks, Sarah Connor found clothes to replace my one’s with holes rotted through. I liked her smile that showed when she called me Kyle Reese. Reese now, too old ankles showing in too short pants. Too old for Baby Boy.
Derek, LittleMan, made suspicious slit-eyes at Sarah Connor. He Didn’t Trust her. He wondered Why She’d Come. He didn’t like that she looked a little like Mom and that he, BabyBoy, had told her about the kid he’d kicked to death.
If, in the months after, you’d forgotten that dogs made Mom sneeze and that houses had windows, if you’d seen Derek get a gun for the price of childhood, if you’d pretended at Sarah’s straight shoulders and Derek’s crack-boom voice, you’d have heard about JohnConnor. Like so many of the used-to-be mothers, Sarah Connor had lost a son. But like the mother, JohnConnor was different. He’d got lost ahead of time, gone first to prepare the way. The way for what, asked Derek, LittleMan.
Sarah Connor taught Derek LittleMan. She taught him about bombs and guns and killing things that weren’t alive. She taught him to smell metal, eat air, and breathe out pain. I told Derek I thought he loved Sarah Connor who looked a little like Mom but was thinner and harder than a mother should be. She had an I’ve been waiting for you face but firework eyes. Not the good kind of fireworks. They were missing the green glow of a watch that was waiting to be a few minutes to six o’clock, that was expecting a father, a father who was expected by a son.
Derek said I didn’t know anything about it. I didn’t know anything but he’d teach me.
If, in the years that followed, you’d seen a gang of BabyBoys trying to eat air, if you’d learned to punch holes in perfection and recognize humanity in messiness, if you’d lost a green glowing Spiderman tangled-up watch, then you’d know Derek and his Sarah Connor still shoulders. He taught us guns in his crack-boom voice. He taught us courage. He taught us quiet. He taught us life. We taught him loyalty because he already knew death.
If, in the war that followed, you’d seen people turn to pulp and machines to men, if you’d forgotten the difference between car windows up and burnt-match air, if you’d seen Derek LittleMan turn to Derek Reese, then you would have seen the day of the blue sphere flash, blue that was missing from fireworks. You would have seen the green glow watch close in on 6 o’clock. You would have seen the son greet the long-expected father.
End
Author: MissNyah
Fandom: T: SCC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,500
Summary: scc_reloaded challenge fic, Written for beatrice_otterwho asked for "How Kyle and Derek survived Judgment Dayand learned to fight back.
Characters: Kyle, Derek, Sarah
Independence Day
If, in March, you’d been in the car with me and Derek and MomandDad, if you were driving down one of the big roads in the city and you’d just come back from visiting your Grandma’s house (the cat-food smell Grandma, the one who calls Derek, LittleMan, and you, BabyBoy), you would have seen your last fireworks. The last good ones anyway. Some rich guy was having a birthday party. Rich people have magicians and bands and fireworks for their birthdays. But they have so many friends too that you must have to wait an awful long time for cake.
When I saw them I thought I’d have to take the blurryvision test and get glasses like Dad. But when I said that the fireworks looked fuzzy, Mom said it was the smog and we had to put the windows on the car up so she wouldn’t cough up her lungs. The fireworks were not as good as 4th of July or baseball game fireworks (which are funny fireworks because they’re good if your team wins but traitors if the other team wins). They were little and far away. They didn’t follow us as well as the moon did even though it was little and far away too.
I asked Derek what happened to fireworks that made them explode instead of just coming down like a baseball. Derek shrugged his shoulders, Idunno, because he doesn’t like to say it out loud when Dad can hear. I thought about baseballs tossed up high in the sky, exploding into stars before they could drop and I could miss them and Derek could practice his grown-up sigh.
I thought maybe fireworks exploded because the sun wasn’t there to keep an eye on them. When I asked Derek, he laughed and reminded MomandDad how I used to think it rained worms. My nose wrinkled up with after rain wormy smell. I reminded Derek and MomandDad that I had been little then. But they still laughed at raindrop worms and exploding baseballs.
Still, I asked Derek if he wanted to play catch when we got home but MomandDad surprised Derek with a cake because the next day was a school day and Derek’s birthday. We sang happy birthday to you and I pretended Derek was a rich guy and the fireworks were his.
If, in April, you were getting an early sunburn with the kids at the public pool, or if you were barefoot in the basement and came out to the lawn for a look, or if you were playing in the sunshine with not-exploding baseballs, then you would have seen fireworks too. When I saw them I put down the baseball bat and asked Derek why there were fireworks in the daytime. He moved his shoulders, Idunno, Idunno, even though Dad was working in the city and wouldn’t hear him.
We waited a long time for MomandDad to come home and fix dinner. I looked at the two watches on my wrist. One had been too big until it had a new hole justforme punched in the band. When it was too big it was Dad’s and kept the time for twenty good years. But the new hole watch was stopped a few seconds before six. The time Dad got home from work. My other watch had Spiderman whose hands fought a slow, tangled-up fight with the hours. It glowed green when I pushed a button. I wore them side-by-side and waited for the minute when they became twins and the minute Dad walked through the door. Sometimes they were the same minute but not today.
Derek told me I could play in his room while he watched the news like he does when he’s being a grown up. I said, okay, because I hate the news and Derek never lets me play in his room.
I came out to look for Derek when I got hungry. He was flipping through snow channels. I shrugged my Idunno shoulders and I asked Derek if we could make the mini-pizzas from the freezer. There were loud noises outside like the whole world was echoing. The windows were open and burnt-match air came through them smelling of birthday cakes and fireworks.
Derek’s footsteps pounded through the house. He came into the kitchen with his backpack and eyes white all around and said, we have to go. I told Derek the pizzas weren’t ready yet. They were hot-frozen and full of boiled ice crystals. Derek said eat them anyway, them or nothingatall.
If, in the months after, you’d run through forever traffic jams of cars-empty-of-people, if you’d eaten things worse than half-frozen pizza, worse than nothingatall, if you’d tried to sleep in burnt-match air with eyes white all around, you would have seen fireworks everyday. In those days Derek’s Idunno shoulders brought us to one neighbor’s house and them another. They tossed rocks to knock windows like baby teeth out of houses. They straightened up to pretend they were old enough to drive.
The fireworks, in those days, were missing colors like I missed my parents. They were all angry reds and much too-bright yellows. They burned too hot and too close, shaking the ground and exploding in the dark behind my eyes. I pressed the button on the Spiderman watch and found the missing green and tried to use the light to find the missing father who was due back in a few seconds, at six o’clock.
We ran from neighborhoods of houses to neighborhoods of bricks and siding. Neighborhoods built in reverse. Finally, we ducked beneath burnt-match air and opened eyes white all around in tunnels built for a war that had come thirty years too late.
If in the early days you’d been hunted for your skin and bones and teeth, if through a fever dream you’d seen Derek, Little Man, eyes white all around, kick a boy to death for some medicine, if in your real maple-wonderful dreams you saw clean socks and baseballs, you would have noticed Sarah Connor. Sarah Connor who flashed into the tunnel-world like a firework before the bang. Sarah Connor who put out a hand and stopped Derek’s Idunno shoulders.
Idunno, I dunno, I-
Once the world had been full of mothers but they’d changed in the explosion of daytime fireworks, fallen down like houses built in reverse. Only Sarah Connor was left, standing in the shadows with an I’ve been waiting for you face.
In those first weeks, Sarah Connor found clothes to replace my one’s with holes rotted through. I liked her smile that showed when she called me Kyle Reese. Reese now, too old ankles showing in too short pants. Too old for Baby Boy.
Derek, LittleMan, made suspicious slit-eyes at Sarah Connor. He Didn’t Trust her. He wondered Why She’d Come. He didn’t like that she looked a little like Mom and that he, BabyBoy, had told her about the kid he’d kicked to death.
If, in the months after, you’d forgotten that dogs made Mom sneeze and that houses had windows, if you’d seen Derek get a gun for the price of childhood, if you’d pretended at Sarah’s straight shoulders and Derek’s crack-boom voice, you’d have heard about JohnConnor. Like so many of the used-to-be mothers, Sarah Connor had lost a son. But like the mother, JohnConnor was different. He’d got lost ahead of time, gone first to prepare the way. The way for what, asked Derek, LittleMan.
Sarah Connor taught Derek LittleMan. She taught him about bombs and guns and killing things that weren’t alive. She taught him to smell metal, eat air, and breathe out pain. I told Derek I thought he loved Sarah Connor who looked a little like Mom but was thinner and harder than a mother should be. She had an I’ve been waiting for you face but firework eyes. Not the good kind of fireworks. They were missing the green glow of a watch that was waiting to be a few minutes to six o’clock, that was expecting a father, a father who was expected by a son.
Derek said I didn’t know anything about it. I didn’t know anything but he’d teach me.
If, in the years that followed, you’d seen a gang of BabyBoys trying to eat air, if you’d learned to punch holes in perfection and recognize humanity in messiness, if you’d lost a green glowing Spiderman tangled-up watch, then you’d know Derek and his Sarah Connor still shoulders. He taught us guns in his crack-boom voice. He taught us courage. He taught us quiet. He taught us life. We taught him loyalty because he already knew death.
If, in the war that followed, you’d seen people turn to pulp and machines to men, if you’d forgotten the difference between car windows up and burnt-match air, if you’d seen Derek LittleMan turn to Derek Reese, then you would have seen the day of the blue sphere flash, blue that was missing from fireworks. You would have seen the green glow watch close in on 6 o’clock. You would have seen the son greet the long-expected father.
End