SCC fic - Small Reconciliations
Title: Small Reconciliations
Author: lenageek
Character/Pairing: Sarah/John
Rating: PG
Summary: Takes place immediately after Goodbye to All That.
Disclaimer: The story and characters of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles belong to a bunch of folks, none of which are myself. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author Notes: This was a short fic that I wrote right after the ep aired but never finished. I figured it would be nice to finish and post on SCC S2 DVD day. :D
The house is up on a hill looking over the greater Los Angeles area. It’s a military tactic. I don’t like having people at my back. Less to worry about, less potential areas to defend against. Even if I know deep down that the machines can come from anywhere.
I step to the window and look out the curtains to the backyard. No swing sets in this one but a few dried out tree stumps left from a bad pruning job. I watch John walk back there and sit on one of the stumps, his slumped shoulders telling the whole story. My son is safe for the moment, in my line of sight, close to me again. But he’s lost something. I can tell just by looking at him that another piece of his soul has been ripped from his too young body and mind.
I grieve for the recent lack of communication between us as I literally ache to comfort him. I fold my arms tightly, resisting the urge to march outside. It’s what John calls my ‘pissed off mom’ look, the same angry, tense stance I had as I watched him and Derek drive away. And I was angry. Angry that Derek could provide something for John that I could not. Male guidance, bonding, whatever you want to call it. That he had taken on the role of protector and guide for John, something that previously had been mine and mine alone. I wasn’t kidding when I told Derek that he should pray that the T-888 got to him before I did. In more ways than one. I don’t want Derek to turn John against me, to heap more pressure or guilt on John’s shoulders than he already has to bear.
My focus turns back to John as I see his shoulders shudder, his hand swiping at his face. My fury evaporates as if it’s never been there. I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t care how much he hates me. I’ve got to talk to him.
I step outside purposefully, but John is so distracted, he doesn’t hear my footsteps until my boots scuff the ground right behind him. He abruptly stands.
“Hey.” He quickly wipes away telltale tearstains away from his cheeks, embarrassed.
“Hey.” Suddenly, I feel a pang of regret for interrupting his private moment. “I just…” my voice trails off as I shrug helplessly.
“Came to see how I was doing, I know.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” I turn back towards the house, defeated.
John’s voice stops me in my tracks. “I’m sorry too mom.” Slowly, I turn, almost wondering if my ears have deceived me. I see his shoulders heave again as he takes a deep breath, gathering himself before exhaling forcefully through pursed lips.
“For what?” I say softly, not wanting to lose what seems like a rare chance to talk.
He shrugs as well, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he finds a spot in the ground to examine intently. “For being such an asshole lately.” He looks up and meets my eyes. “I know I’ve hurt you by not talking to you.”
“It’s okay.” I try to pass it off as casual, even as my throat thickens with emotion. “What’s important is how you’re doing, not me.”
“No, it’s not!” I’m surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “You, you’re just as important! You know I’d be nothing without you. Derek told me today, he made me understand…” John trails off again, as he swings his fist at an invisible target, frustrated.
I catch his hand and hold it as I sit on the tree stump. John sits down on the ground beside me. “Understand what John?”
“How much is sacrificed for me. Martin Bidell, Derek, innocent people like Michelle! You’ll all die for me, any day, any second, if it’s needed. Especially you!” I’ve rarely seen John so intense, his eyes so angry. With the next breath, all the fight goes out of him as he slumps against me, laying his head in my lap. “And I’m tired, mom. I’m tired of people dying for me.”
There’s no hesitation as I stroke my son’s newly shorn hair, feeling the softness of it sift through my fingers. “I know you’re tired, sweetheart.” I think it’s the first time I’ve ever called him that. I bend to press a kiss to the hair behind his ear. “And I’m sorry too.” I can hear my voice crack with this apology, but I don’t care. “I’m sorry I gave you this life, this burden. I’d take it from you if I could.”
Wordlessly, I feel John take my hand. I feel both his need to be comforted as well as his acceptance of me in his firm grip. “I know that, mom. You do, every day.”
I squeeze his hand back, amazed. It’s the ‘thank you’ I’ve never heard from my son. Not that I’ve ever taught him how to say it or that I should expect it with the crazy life I’ve given him.
I feel John’s breathing deepen as his hand slips from my grasp. “John?” I whisper as I keep up the light touches on his hair. I smile sadly as I realize he’s fallen asleep, exhausted in more ways than one.
“You’re welcome.” I smile as I say these simple words to John’s unhearing form. I may still suck as a mom, but I’m learning. I’m trying.
I continue to hold John in my arms as the sun warms my face. I look up into the cloudless blue sky and close my eyes, memorizing this peaceful moment for the storm ahead that I know will come.
Author: lenageek
Character/Pairing: Sarah/John
Rating: PG
Summary: Takes place immediately after Goodbye to All That.
Disclaimer: The story and characters of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles belong to a bunch of folks, none of which are myself. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author Notes: This was a short fic that I wrote right after the ep aired but never finished. I figured it would be nice to finish and post on SCC S2 DVD day. :D
The house is up on a hill looking over the greater Los Angeles area. It’s a military tactic. I don’t like having people at my back. Less to worry about, less potential areas to defend against. Even if I know deep down that the machines can come from anywhere.
I step to the window and look out the curtains to the backyard. No swing sets in this one but a few dried out tree stumps left from a bad pruning job. I watch John walk back there and sit on one of the stumps, his slumped shoulders telling the whole story. My son is safe for the moment, in my line of sight, close to me again. But he’s lost something. I can tell just by looking at him that another piece of his soul has been ripped from his too young body and mind.
I grieve for the recent lack of communication between us as I literally ache to comfort him. I fold my arms tightly, resisting the urge to march outside. It’s what John calls my ‘pissed off mom’ look, the same angry, tense stance I had as I watched him and Derek drive away. And I was angry. Angry that Derek could provide something for John that I could not. Male guidance, bonding, whatever you want to call it. That he had taken on the role of protector and guide for John, something that previously had been mine and mine alone. I wasn’t kidding when I told Derek that he should pray that the T-888 got to him before I did. In more ways than one. I don’t want Derek to turn John against me, to heap more pressure or guilt on John’s shoulders than he already has to bear.
My focus turns back to John as I see his shoulders shudder, his hand swiping at his face. My fury evaporates as if it’s never been there. I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t care how much he hates me. I’ve got to talk to him.
I step outside purposefully, but John is so distracted, he doesn’t hear my footsteps until my boots scuff the ground right behind him. He abruptly stands.
“Hey.” He quickly wipes away telltale tearstains away from his cheeks, embarrassed.
“Hey.” Suddenly, I feel a pang of regret for interrupting his private moment. “I just…” my voice trails off as I shrug helplessly.
“Came to see how I was doing, I know.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” I turn back towards the house, defeated.
John’s voice stops me in my tracks. “I’m sorry too mom.” Slowly, I turn, almost wondering if my ears have deceived me. I see his shoulders heave again as he takes a deep breath, gathering himself before exhaling forcefully through pursed lips.
“For what?” I say softly, not wanting to lose what seems like a rare chance to talk.
He shrugs as well, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he finds a spot in the ground to examine intently. “For being such an asshole lately.” He looks up and meets my eyes. “I know I’ve hurt you by not talking to you.”
“It’s okay.” I try to pass it off as casual, even as my throat thickens with emotion. “What’s important is how you’re doing, not me.”
“No, it’s not!” I’m surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “You, you’re just as important! You know I’d be nothing without you. Derek told me today, he made me understand…” John trails off again, as he swings his fist at an invisible target, frustrated.
I catch his hand and hold it as I sit on the tree stump. John sits down on the ground beside me. “Understand what John?”
“How much is sacrificed for me. Martin Bidell, Derek, innocent people like Michelle! You’ll all die for me, any day, any second, if it’s needed. Especially you!” I’ve rarely seen John so intense, his eyes so angry. With the next breath, all the fight goes out of him as he slumps against me, laying his head in my lap. “And I’m tired, mom. I’m tired of people dying for me.”
There’s no hesitation as I stroke my son’s newly shorn hair, feeling the softness of it sift through my fingers. “I know you’re tired, sweetheart.” I think it’s the first time I’ve ever called him that. I bend to press a kiss to the hair behind his ear. “And I’m sorry too.” I can hear my voice crack with this apology, but I don’t care. “I’m sorry I gave you this life, this burden. I’d take it from you if I could.”
Wordlessly, I feel John take my hand. I feel both his need to be comforted as well as his acceptance of me in his firm grip. “I know that, mom. You do, every day.”
I squeeze his hand back, amazed. It’s the ‘thank you’ I’ve never heard from my son. Not that I’ve ever taught him how to say it or that I should expect it with the crazy life I’ve given him.
I feel John’s breathing deepen as his hand slips from my grasp. “John?” I whisper as I keep up the light touches on his hair. I smile sadly as I realize he’s fallen asleep, exhausted in more ways than one.
“You’re welcome.” I smile as I say these simple words to John’s unhearing form. I may still suck as a mom, but I’m learning. I’m trying.
I continue to hold John in my arms as the sun warms my face. I look up into the cloudless blue sky and close my eyes, memorizing this peaceful moment for the storm ahead that I know will come.