[SCC] With a Little Help - Sarah, Derek - Teen
TITLE: With a Little Help
AUTHOR: indiefic
CHARACTERS: Sarah, Derek
RATING: Teen (for a few bad words)
WORD COUNT: 1000-ish
WARNINGS: Spoilers for the entire Terminator universe.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Don't know who does.
TIMELINE: Set during SCC S2 ep “The Good Wound”
SUMMARY: Sarah Connor had no idea how to ask for help.
***
She stopped for a moment, staring out the glass doors, already winded and shaky from the walk from the morgue. She could see the truck. Two hundred yards. Decent amount of cover. But they needed to move quickly and quietly as possible.
She pushed the door open, making the mistake of putting too much weight on her leg. The searing pain took her breath away and her head spun. She was still nauseated and sluggish from the anesthesia. She took a few gulping breaths to prevent herself from falling to the ground retching.
She stood there for a moment, shaking, still clutching the door in one hand. There was no resistance from the door’s hydraulic closing mechanism - because Derek was standing right behind her, holding it open.
She took a deep breath. And then another. Gingerly, she pushed away from the door, taking a careful, hopping step. It was okay. She was okay. She could do this.
She took another hopping step.
And another.
She took a few more. She didn’t know how many. She was shaking again. Her limbs felt like jelly and her head was pounding. She was moving too slowly. They needed to get out of here and the truck was still so far away.
Sarah Connor had no idea how to ask for help.
She could demand cooperation at gunpoint. She could even manipulate assistance out of well meaning people. But she never learned to ask for help. She hid her shortcoming as best she could, burying it under an exterior so caustic few people were brave enough to offer assistance. The brave few were sent away, sorry for having tried. Fewer still were those who helped Sarah despite herself. People like Charley and Agent Ellison.
Charley learned early on to help first and ask for forgiveness later. Sarah knew that was fucked up, but there it was. He never offered. He just did. Because he knew if he waited for her to ask for help, he’d be waiting forever.
But now Charley was gone.
And Derek Reese certainly didn’t harbor Charley’s protective inclinations toward her.
“He’ll push you. Doubt you. Make you want to kill him.”
Derek Reese made it painfully clear with every word, every action, that nothing she did could ever measure up. He was probably loving this, knowing how badly she screwed up, how thoroughly she compromised not only herself and John but even Kyle. She told that doctor too much. She told her everything, that Reese was John’s father. And then the doctor asked Derek if he was Reese, if he was John’s father. And worst of all, Derek was looking at her the whole time. He saw her crying. Okay, not crying, but there was a tear. And Derek saw it. And Derek knew just how weak she had been.
“He’s out of his time. He’s lost.”
Derek was always there. Most of the time she wished he wasn’t. But he was. Caustic, surly and generally a self-righteous pain in the ass to be around, Derek Reese was loyal to a fault. He had her back in a firefight. He cleaned up her messes. And he rarely let her forget it.
“John’s all he’s got.”
Derek proved he’d kill for John. If something happened to her, Derek would protect John. Not as good as she would. He’d be too hard on John. He’d get distracted by his loathing for the machine. But he’d do his best. And he’d die to keep John safe.
“John and you.”
“Sarah?”
She realized she had been standing here for a while. She was sweating, shivering in the heat. Her leg throbbed in time with the pounding in her head and her throat was so dry.
Sarah Connor had no idea how to ask for help.
“He can help.”
She couldn’t do it, she realized. She stared blindly at the truck, her eyes burning. She couldn’t do this alone. She was going to have to ask Derek for help. And he was going to lord it over her. But she had no choice.
She swallowed harshly and took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping forward. She canted her head to the side, intending to turn around and face him.
But she didn’t have to turn because just as she started to twist, he stepped even with her, wrapping an arm around her back, firmly grasping her hip.
“Don’t put any weight on it,” he said blandly.
Automatically, she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, bracing herself against him.
“I blew out my knee once,” he said, helping her take a step. “We found this cache. Left over from before the war.” Another step. “Had a half dozen bottles of Johnny Walker black label.”
It was awkward. He had to hunch over and shorten his gait to accommodate their difference in height. But it worked, one hopping step after another. “Me and four buddies went through half the bottles in a couple of hours. I decided to try and blow up a Skynet outpost. Tripped and fell. Almost blew myself up. Tore my knee all to hell.”
They were at the truck. Sarah didn’t know how that happened. Her leg and head were still pounding, but the shaking was better. He opened the door and helped her inside. He shut the door and she watched as he walked around the truck, opened his door and climbed behind the wheel.
He stared out the windshield. “My buddies came after me. Two of them got picked off immediately by Skynet sniper fire. Other two dragged me back to base. One of ‘em got shot in the process. Died two days later.”
He turned and looked at her.
She wanted to say something, needed to say something, but she had no words. She opened her mouth, but he turned away again, shrugging. “It was a year after I lost Kyle.”
He put the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. “Now where the hell is this warehouse?”
[end]
AUTHOR: indiefic
CHARACTERS: Sarah, Derek
RATING: Teen (for a few bad words)
WORD COUNT: 1000-ish
WARNINGS: Spoilers for the entire Terminator universe.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Don't know who does.
TIMELINE: Set during SCC S2 ep “The Good Wound”
SUMMARY: Sarah Connor had no idea how to ask for help.
***
She stopped for a moment, staring out the glass doors, already winded and shaky from the walk from the morgue. She could see the truck. Two hundred yards. Decent amount of cover. But they needed to move quickly and quietly as possible.
She pushed the door open, making the mistake of putting too much weight on her leg. The searing pain took her breath away and her head spun. She was still nauseated and sluggish from the anesthesia. She took a few gulping breaths to prevent herself from falling to the ground retching.
She stood there for a moment, shaking, still clutching the door in one hand. There was no resistance from the door’s hydraulic closing mechanism - because Derek was standing right behind her, holding it open.
She took a deep breath. And then another. Gingerly, she pushed away from the door, taking a careful, hopping step. It was okay. She was okay. She could do this.
She took another hopping step.
And another.
She took a few more. She didn’t know how many. She was shaking again. Her limbs felt like jelly and her head was pounding. She was moving too slowly. They needed to get out of here and the truck was still so far away.
Sarah Connor had no idea how to ask for help.
She could demand cooperation at gunpoint. She could even manipulate assistance out of well meaning people. But she never learned to ask for help. She hid her shortcoming as best she could, burying it under an exterior so caustic few people were brave enough to offer assistance. The brave few were sent away, sorry for having tried. Fewer still were those who helped Sarah despite herself. People like Charley and Agent Ellison.
Charley learned early on to help first and ask for forgiveness later. Sarah knew that was fucked up, but there it was. He never offered. He just did. Because he knew if he waited for her to ask for help, he’d be waiting forever.
But now Charley was gone.
And Derek Reese certainly didn’t harbor Charley’s protective inclinations toward her.
“He’ll push you. Doubt you. Make you want to kill him.”
Derek Reese made it painfully clear with every word, every action, that nothing she did could ever measure up. He was probably loving this, knowing how badly she screwed up, how thoroughly she compromised not only herself and John but even Kyle. She told that doctor too much. She told her everything, that Reese was John’s father. And then the doctor asked Derek if he was Reese, if he was John’s father. And worst of all, Derek was looking at her the whole time. He saw her crying. Okay, not crying, but there was a tear. And Derek saw it. And Derek knew just how weak she had been.
“He’s out of his time. He’s lost.”
Derek was always there. Most of the time she wished he wasn’t. But he was. Caustic, surly and generally a self-righteous pain in the ass to be around, Derek Reese was loyal to a fault. He had her back in a firefight. He cleaned up her messes. And he rarely let her forget it.
“John’s all he’s got.”
Derek proved he’d kill for John. If something happened to her, Derek would protect John. Not as good as she would. He’d be too hard on John. He’d get distracted by his loathing for the machine. But he’d do his best. And he’d die to keep John safe.
“John and you.”
“Sarah?”
She realized she had been standing here for a while. She was sweating, shivering in the heat. Her leg throbbed in time with the pounding in her head and her throat was so dry.
Sarah Connor had no idea how to ask for help.
“He can help.”
She couldn’t do it, she realized. She stared blindly at the truck, her eyes burning. She couldn’t do this alone. She was going to have to ask Derek for help. And he was going to lord it over her. But she had no choice.
She swallowed harshly and took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping forward. She canted her head to the side, intending to turn around and face him.
But she didn’t have to turn because just as she started to twist, he stepped even with her, wrapping an arm around her back, firmly grasping her hip.
“Don’t put any weight on it,” he said blandly.
Automatically, she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, bracing herself against him.
“I blew out my knee once,” he said, helping her take a step. “We found this cache. Left over from before the war.” Another step. “Had a half dozen bottles of Johnny Walker black label.”
It was awkward. He had to hunch over and shorten his gait to accommodate their difference in height. But it worked, one hopping step after another. “Me and four buddies went through half the bottles in a couple of hours. I decided to try and blow up a Skynet outpost. Tripped and fell. Almost blew myself up. Tore my knee all to hell.”
They were at the truck. Sarah didn’t know how that happened. Her leg and head were still pounding, but the shaking was better. He opened the door and helped her inside. He shut the door and she watched as he walked around the truck, opened his door and climbed behind the wheel.
He stared out the windshield. “My buddies came after me. Two of them got picked off immediately by Skynet sniper fire. Other two dragged me back to base. One of ‘em got shot in the process. Died two days later.”
He turned and looked at her.
She wanted to say something, needed to say something, but she had no words. She opened her mouth, but he turned away again, shrugging. “It was a year after I lost Kyle.”
He put the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. “Now where the hell is this warehouse?”
[end]