(Untitled)

[knowthyexits]

Things seem to be incrementally adding up to prove to Sarah that there is something out there that wants her life to be the same kind of hell as back home. She doesn't have John, but she knows he's protected. And yet she's foisted back into that life and forced to watch John do something that she wants to take away from him -- and yet, she can't.

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[dichotomos]

I've seen a lot of bodies in my time. Hell, I've seen a lot of bodies that I killed myself in my time, and it wasn't the body that fazed me, here, its limbs stretched out in the dirt with the telltale rigidity of death. No, it's Sarah who was the real fucking concern, one of the most staunchly composed people I knew, tearing fingernails off and sobbing as she scrabbled at a dead man.

I'm not saying I don't get it, whatever motivation she had. I'm just saying it was fucking disturbing.

"Sarah," I tried, and then again, and remembering how she'd been injured before, how she'd have fucking bled out if I'd not forcefully removed her ass from the bar, I took hold of her from behind. Strong arms wrapped tight around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides, I hauled her back from the body just enough that she couldn't hurt herself anymore.

"Sarah, stop," I hissed, when my peripheral vision caught the gleam of metal peeking from beneath the man's skull. I huffed out exhalation of disbelief next to her ear. "Is that…a fucking robot?"

[knowthyexits]

She struggles just as hard as she did before when she feels arms around her, when she hears a voice that's not John. Not John, who did this to her in Mexico, dragged her away from the chip and just held on. She tries to kick out, but settles for stabbing down on his toe with her heel as hard as she can, a surge of panic catching her as her worst fears come to light.

What is she supposed to say? The proof is right in front of her and her own reaction strips away her ability to deny that she has no clue what this is. "Cal, leave," she says, some of the old steel back in her voice.

[dichotomos]

"No," I said without compunction, firm enough that anyone else would probably know I couldn't be swayed. Sarah, though, she'd probably keep arguing, and she probably wasn't going to answer me easily, either. Thank fuck I wore steel-toed boots, because she'd stomped on my foot hard enough to break my toes.

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked, arms still fast around her, eyes narrowing at the bloodied mess Sarah had made of the thing's head. The metal beneath the layer of skin and fat was unmistakable, and put me immediately in mind of the Terminator movies, although I didn't make the connection yet with the woman struggling in my arms. The woman appropriately named Sarah.

[knowthyexits]

Her fingers are twitching, yet, trying to get back at the body. The chip has to be there and if she doesn't destroy it, then who knows what kind of hell she might be unleashing on the Island by simply existing. "I don't know," she gets out in a guttural tone, trying for denial as she struggles to push out of his arms.

[dichotomos]

"Don't fucking lie to me!" I shouted, swaying her back against me again, rattling us both. "You don't just claw the skin off a corpse for no reason, Sarah! That's not even a fucking man, is it?" The longer I looked at the thing, the more certain I became on that point. That was no metal plate in the guy's head, it was his whole head.

[knowthyexits]

"I don't know how the fuck it got here," she counters, spitting the words out like they're weapons of assault. She's teetering on the edge of panic again, being unable to search for the chip, which has to be in there somewhere. "It's not a man, no. Let me go, Cal," she growls at him in warning.

[dichotomos]

"If I let you go, you have to promise me two things." I couldn't see Sarah, couldn't look into her eyes to further drive home the seriousness of what I was saying, but my voice was low and steady and brooking no argument. "You tell me what's going on, and you stop hurting yourself like a fucking lunatic."

[knowthyexits]

She knows that she can stop hurting herself, but she's not sure she's capable of telling him -- or wanting to. "Fine," she agrees, but only because she refuses to lose her dignity like this, trapped up in Cal's arms like an invalid. "What do you want to know?"

She can decide from there whether she'll answer honestly.

[dichotomos]

The truth is, I didn't particularly like holding onto Sarah like that-It definitely wasn't anything like all the times I'd imagined putting my arms around a woman, and neither of us were happy with the situation. Grudging, I let her go and took a half step back so that I wasn't still breathing down her neck. No matter what I said or did, she'd only tell me what she wanted to.

"What part of tell me what's going on was unclear?" I asked, but if she wanted a more specific line of questioning, fine. I jabbed a finger toward the body in the dirt. "What the fuck is that thing, where did it come from and why were you ripping its scalp off with your bare hands?"

[knowthyexits]

Sarah breathes out the minute she's free, like she'd been panicking and couldn't pull in a full breath. Even now, she doesn't know what to say, so she goes back to her default. She avoids his gaze and shuts down anything but steel and determination.

She crosses her arms over her torso and stares down at Cromartie's body. "I need to find the chip." It explains some of it. It explains as much as she'll give for now.

[dichotomos]

"The chip," I echoed, incredulous not because of the answer but because of how little of one she'd given me. I'm not saying it was a surprise; Sarah was practically Fort Knox. But that didn't stop me being irritated.

"So…what?" I asked, lifting both hands in an exaggerated, questioning gesture. "You're going to tell me that's a terminator now, and the island is in danger of being infiltrated by Arnold Schwarzenegger?"

[knowthyexits]

Sarah is icy and barely acknowledges that he's said anything right or wrong. He looks at her and she looks back, not understanding half of what he's saying, but the one word that stands out is the only one that matters. "Cromartie. And you've been in danger since the day I got here."

[dichotomos]

"You have got to be shitting me," I scoffed, although it was obvious enough by her tone and her posture that she was either telling the truth or what she sincerely believed to be. "Who do you think you are, Sarah Connor? Don't get me wrong, this is some unsettling shit right here," I motioned to the body, "but I think you may be overestimating your value in this place."

I mean, shit. I get that she was worried and probably felt she had plenty of reason to be, but it wasn't as if I spent my days worried that everyone was in danger from the Auphe.

[knowthyexits]

She goes shock-still in that moment, her eyes widening just slightly in panic, and all she can do is stand there staring at him and feeling her stomach turn in dismay and fear. "Who told you that name?" she demands, voice hoarse. "Who?" she barks, filled with fury as the anger rushes back.

[dichotomos]

The change in Sarah's demeanor and tone of voice was immediate, and my own reaction to it almost as quick. I couldn't help it: I was built to be aggressive and conditioned to react to it in others. I tensed, leaning slightly forward with a sharp, dangerous gaze.

"James Cameron and the fucking Cineplex," I replied without thinking. The moment it was out of my mouth, though, I put two and two together.

"What the fuck, Sarah?" I blurted, my expression shifting from deadly serious to disbelief. It made sense. Fuck me, it made perfect sense. "Are you Sarah fucking Connor?"

[knowthyexits]

Fight and flight are in her mind and she retreats to them and clenches her fingers in her fist as she takes a swing at him, trying to stun him just long enough to get time to run. Run until he's not saying names like Sarah Connor or Cameron anymore, run until she can hide with her weapons and evaluate a plan of attack for the body.

She just hasn't fought in a while and when she has, the people she fights are either made of coltane or don't know a thing about it whatsoever.