Improvised Explosive Device (PG-13)
Title: Improvised Explosive Device
Fandom: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Rating: PG-13 (drug use)
Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me.
Pairings: John/Cameron, if you tilt your head the right way
Word Count: 355
Notes: My muse is rebelling against NaNo by attacking me with fic plot bunnies. Set in The Future.
***
It takes a hit from an IED, and John has to open its skull up to make the repairs. Derek can’t look away from where John has the machine’s head cradled in his lap. The flap of scalp Connor pulls back to get at the chip is sticky with synthetic blood. John touches it lovingly as he uses pliers to get at the interiors of it. Its eyes are open and watching Derek until the chip comes free. Then, John gently shuts them for it.
(Or maybe for Derek. He didn’t think he was showing how completely freaked out he was by seeing the leader of the Resistance be so tender with one of the machines, but John Connor always seemed to know Derek better than he had any right to. As if they spent months in each others’ company, not just a few hours here and there.)
“Why do you treat it like that? Like it’s a real person,” Derek asks, not for the first time.
John smiles as he works, tinkering with the machine’s chip. “Because she is, to me. For a long time, it was just me and Cameron. She doesn’t know that because she hasn’t lived it yet.” He exchanges his screwdriver for one with a smaller head. “I’m a man out of time, Derek, and I don’t mean that I’m going to die soon. Though maybe I am-this is the farthest forward that I’ve ever lived. Behind me, time is a complete snarl. Years I skipped; time lines that Mom and the others rewrote. No future is set in stone, but some things-like Skynet-are inevitable.”
Connor’s pupils are blown wide. He’s taken something, Derek realizes, something to keep him awake and aware longer than is humanly possible. Who knows what he’s looking out those windows of the soul and seeing, but Derek’s looking in and catching glimpses of grief and pain. Years of nothing but. “You should get some sleep, John.”
John laughs and slides the cylindrical chip back into the machine’s head. “I can sleep when I’m dead. Now, it’s time for Cameron to wake up.”
Derek makes the pronouns so confusing with his anti-machine racism!
Fandom: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Rating: PG-13 (drug use)
Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me.
Pairings: John/Cameron, if you tilt your head the right way
Word Count: 355
Notes: My muse is rebelling against NaNo by attacking me with fic plot bunnies. Set in The Future.
***
It takes a hit from an IED, and John has to open its skull up to make the repairs. Derek can’t look away from where John has the machine’s head cradled in his lap. The flap of scalp Connor pulls back to get at the chip is sticky with synthetic blood. John touches it lovingly as he uses pliers to get at the interiors of it. Its eyes are open and watching Derek until the chip comes free. Then, John gently shuts them for it.
(Or maybe for Derek. He didn’t think he was showing how completely freaked out he was by seeing the leader of the Resistance be so tender with one of the machines, but John Connor always seemed to know Derek better than he had any right to. As if they spent months in each others’ company, not just a few hours here and there.)
“Why do you treat it like that? Like it’s a real person,” Derek asks, not for the first time.
John smiles as he works, tinkering with the machine’s chip. “Because she is, to me. For a long time, it was just me and Cameron. She doesn’t know that because she hasn’t lived it yet.” He exchanges his screwdriver for one with a smaller head. “I’m a man out of time, Derek, and I don’t mean that I’m going to die soon. Though maybe I am-this is the farthest forward that I’ve ever lived. Behind me, time is a complete snarl. Years I skipped; time lines that Mom and the others rewrote. No future is set in stone, but some things-like Skynet-are inevitable.”
Connor’s pupils are blown wide. He’s taken something, Derek realizes, something to keep him awake and aware longer than is humanly possible. Who knows what he’s looking out those windows of the soul and seeing, but Derek’s looking in and catching glimpses of grief and pain. Years of nothing but. “You should get some sleep, John.”
John laughs and slides the cylindrical chip back into the machine’s head. “I can sleep when I’m dead. Now, it’s time for Cameron to wake up.”
Derek makes the pronouns so confusing with his anti-machine racism!