Fic: The Myth, The Legend (T: SCC)
Title: The Myth, The Legend
Author: dramady
Character/Pairing: John, Kyle (GEN).
Rating: PG
Summary: To his people, Sarah is the legend. To John, Kyle is.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. Mr. Friedman, sir, please don't sue me.
Author Notes: For Sweet Charity! slavelabour's prompt was: So, anyway, what is that? Angst, emotional h/c? It's probably just a hurty little fic starring John thinking about his father and the decisions he's going to have to make but do you think you could write something like that? Thank you for letting me write this! Your prompt was awesome. Thanks to spleenjournal for feedback.
"You're my father."
This is what John thinks every time he sees Kyle. That that kid, that young kid who still knows how to smile, that that's his father. You're my father. God.
There are days when John finds comfort in that. That that kid out there, Kyle Reese, is his father, that this is a time when he can know his father and see him and watch him and even talk with him. Not now like they talked when they were in the work camp, but still.
In the camp, he'd given Kyle the picture of his mother, trying to be off-hand about it. "This is my mom." But the off-hand had stopped there. "This is when she's pregnant with me. She's so young, here, isn't she?" Prompting Kyle to take the photo, saying that he needed to hold on to it. Sarah Connor, the mother, the legend.
Kyle will never know how she would read to John from the Wizard of Oz.
Sometimes, John would make things up. "She loved ice cream. She loved those little sprinkles on it, the ones shaped like flowers? Do you remember those?"
John can count on one hand the times he and Sarah had ice cream, but that's not what this is about. This is about making sure that he's born.
You're my father.
After they'd gotten free, John would make a point of seeing Kyle when he could, making sure he still had the picture, still carried it. "My mother would.... Sarah would...." Enjoy sunsets, have these quiet moments after training, be so soft after being so hard. Was beautiful. See the picture? See? Keep that safe.
So you can die so that I live.
~*~*~
There are days when John hates what he has to do.
It's so cold, what he has to do. And why Kyle Reese? Why him? In the ultimate paradox that is his life, he sits, sometimes, and wonders how he first chose Kyle. Why not Bedell? Whisher? Even Derek, why not him? No, it's Kyle and for him, it's not a choice, he knows and he has to send Kyle back. But at some point, somewhere, he chose Kyle.
He knows Kyle will die. That, too, is determined. But he died honorably, heroically. John can only hope the same for himself. "When my mother and I were in the jungle...." he'd say, trying to paint a picture of the games they would play. "Games." But he wouldn't tell how he knew she hated what she was doing too. What she had to do. It was always between them. Normal, whatever that was, wasn't an option for them and he resented that.
Sarah Connor, the myth. His mother. Kyle Reese, his father.
Who would tell his story? John, yes, but to whom? Not to anyone in the future; they couldn't know. How would they look at him if they did know?
Freak?
"You are my father."
Then comes the day. The day he has to send Kyle back. The bubble tech is ready, Reese is summoned, no warning, no chance for him to tell Derek, or anyone, for that matter, what is going on. No one, you see, to tell his story. "I'm going to protect Sarah", he might say. Whom, John hopes, Reese feels he knows.
Reese, not Kyle. Kyle is his father, Reese is a solder. A sargeant. One of his best soldiers and that, he'll say, is why he chose him. Sending him with the message for Sarah, with the idea of saving her and telling her what she needs to know about her future son, about the battle that must be fought.
Sarah, you'll have to be stronger than you ever imagined.....
His father.
Five minutes before Kyle's to be sent back. They stand in a moment of awkward silence. John crosses his arms over his chest and looks over at Reese, Kyle. Young, twenty-two, strong, with eyes that are still kind. "Say it again," he says, having Kyle again repeat back the message that John had him memorize.
In that moment, right before Kyle steps into the cordoned-off area and the tech hits the button, John has an insane urge to gather the boy up, to hug him, to kiss his cheek, to say all that he never had a chance to say, all that he had to tell Charley instead, I miss you, I love you, I wish we could be honest and I could tell you that there were times when she wasn't perfect. Sarah Connor, the myth, had bad days too, days when he could tell that she wasn't in the room, but far away. Was she remembering Kyle? She'd never tell him, even if he did ask. Her eyes would narrow and she'd look away.
He knew she'd never marry Charley. He'd wanted to believe she would, but she wasn't going to, even if John did pick out the ring.
Maybe that part of her died with Kyle.
So in that way, John wants to think that he's doing his part in giving them their time. Star-crossed lovers. A few days together, max, and as a result, a baby, a boy, John Connor.
Except John himself was the star, crossing them. Sarah used to.... Love old movies, love bad 80s music, he'd say. Clean a gun so fast....
Sometimes he even confused himself about what was real and what was myth. And in those times, he'd miss his mother even more than he thought possible.
She burned pancakes. John loved her.
When it comes time, he shakes Kyle Reese's hand, doesn't hug him, as much as he wants to, and he watches Kyle disappear in a flash of light.
He stands there, staring at that spot, even as the tech leaves, as everyone leaves, waiting outside the door for the John Connor to come out and continue to lead the fight against the machines.
You are my father.
Father.
For all of his fighters, Sarah Connor is a myth, a legend. For John Connor, Kyle Reese is the legend. And he knows when he's fifteen and they drag Derek Reese's body into the kitchen and Sarah says to him, "he's your uncle," that John will do everything he can to save him. If only to make up for what he did -- what he had to do -- to Kyle.
To his father.
Author: dramady
Character/Pairing: John, Kyle (GEN).
Rating: PG
Summary: To his people, Sarah is the legend. To John, Kyle is.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. Mr. Friedman, sir, please don't sue me.
Author Notes: For Sweet Charity! slavelabour's prompt was: So, anyway, what is that? Angst, emotional h/c? It's probably just a hurty little fic starring John thinking about his father and the decisions he's going to have to make but do you think you could write something like that? Thank you for letting me write this! Your prompt was awesome. Thanks to spleenjournal for feedback.
"You're my father."
This is what John thinks every time he sees Kyle. That that kid, that young kid who still knows how to smile, that that's his father. You're my father. God.
There are days when John finds comfort in that. That that kid out there, Kyle Reese, is his father, that this is a time when he can know his father and see him and watch him and even talk with him. Not now like they talked when they were in the work camp, but still.
In the camp, he'd given Kyle the picture of his mother, trying to be off-hand about it. "This is my mom." But the off-hand had stopped there. "This is when she's pregnant with me. She's so young, here, isn't she?" Prompting Kyle to take the photo, saying that he needed to hold on to it. Sarah Connor, the mother, the legend.
Kyle will never know how she would read to John from the Wizard of Oz.
Sometimes, John would make things up. "She loved ice cream. She loved those little sprinkles on it, the ones shaped like flowers? Do you remember those?"
John can count on one hand the times he and Sarah had ice cream, but that's not what this is about. This is about making sure that he's born.
You're my father.
After they'd gotten free, John would make a point of seeing Kyle when he could, making sure he still had the picture, still carried it. "My mother would.... Sarah would...." Enjoy sunsets, have these quiet moments after training, be so soft after being so hard. Was beautiful. See the picture? See? Keep that safe.
So you can die so that I live.
~*~*~
There are days when John hates what he has to do.
It's so cold, what he has to do. And why Kyle Reese? Why him? In the ultimate paradox that is his life, he sits, sometimes, and wonders how he first chose Kyle. Why not Bedell? Whisher? Even Derek, why not him? No, it's Kyle and for him, it's not a choice, he knows and he has to send Kyle back. But at some point, somewhere, he chose Kyle.
He knows Kyle will die. That, too, is determined. But he died honorably, heroically. John can only hope the same for himself. "When my mother and I were in the jungle...." he'd say, trying to paint a picture of the games they would play. "Games." But he wouldn't tell how he knew she hated what she was doing too. What she had to do. It was always between them. Normal, whatever that was, wasn't an option for them and he resented that.
Sarah Connor, the myth. His mother. Kyle Reese, his father.
Who would tell his story? John, yes, but to whom? Not to anyone in the future; they couldn't know. How would they look at him if they did know?
Freak?
"You are my father."
Then comes the day. The day he has to send Kyle back. The bubble tech is ready, Reese is summoned, no warning, no chance for him to tell Derek, or anyone, for that matter, what is going on. No one, you see, to tell his story. "I'm going to protect Sarah", he might say. Whom, John hopes, Reese feels he knows.
Reese, not Kyle. Kyle is his father, Reese is a solder. A sargeant. One of his best soldiers and that, he'll say, is why he chose him. Sending him with the message for Sarah, with the idea of saving her and telling her what she needs to know about her future son, about the battle that must be fought.
Sarah, you'll have to be stronger than you ever imagined.....
His father.
Five minutes before Kyle's to be sent back. They stand in a moment of awkward silence. John crosses his arms over his chest and looks over at Reese, Kyle. Young, twenty-two, strong, with eyes that are still kind. "Say it again," he says, having Kyle again repeat back the message that John had him memorize.
In that moment, right before Kyle steps into the cordoned-off area and the tech hits the button, John has an insane urge to gather the boy up, to hug him, to kiss his cheek, to say all that he never had a chance to say, all that he had to tell Charley instead, I miss you, I love you, I wish we could be honest and I could tell you that there were times when she wasn't perfect. Sarah Connor, the myth, had bad days too, days when he could tell that she wasn't in the room, but far away. Was she remembering Kyle? She'd never tell him, even if he did ask. Her eyes would narrow and she'd look away.
He knew she'd never marry Charley. He'd wanted to believe she would, but she wasn't going to, even if John did pick out the ring.
Maybe that part of her died with Kyle.
So in that way, John wants to think that he's doing his part in giving them their time. Star-crossed lovers. A few days together, max, and as a result, a baby, a boy, John Connor.
Except John himself was the star, crossing them. Sarah used to.... Love old movies, love bad 80s music, he'd say. Clean a gun so fast....
Sometimes he even confused himself about what was real and what was myth. And in those times, he'd miss his mother even more than he thought possible.
She burned pancakes. John loved her.
When it comes time, he shakes Kyle Reese's hand, doesn't hug him, as much as he wants to, and he watches Kyle disappear in a flash of light.
He stands there, staring at that spot, even as the tech leaves, as everyone leaves, waiting outside the door for the John Connor to come out and continue to lead the fight against the machines.
You are my father.
Father.
For all of his fighters, Sarah Connor is a myth, a legend. For John Connor, Kyle Reese is the legend. And he knows when he's fifteen and they drag Derek Reese's body into the kitchen and Sarah says to him, "he's your uncle," that John will do everything he can to save him. If only to make up for what he did -- what he had to do -- to Kyle.
To his father.