#fanfic
#Terminator
Inspired by characters created by James Cameron and Gale Anne Hurd
He was a soldier. He was a hero. He was a man racked with scars that told the truth of his upbringing: a child weaned on war, and a man grown before he could ever know even his first kiss; his first love. He was trembling, this man who went forth so gallantly to face an otherworldly foe to protect her. He never botched against the beast, for he was trained to know them, to destroy them. It was all he had ever known. But the gentle touch of a woman turned him once more into what he was before the world burned: a child.
A photo was given to him long ago. The face of an angel, a prized possession of the only man he could have ever named father. A moment in time captured to forever remind him that there had been once a world before the machines; before the death. A fire stole it away. His angel purloined, cast to the flames. Despoiled, he watched as the mother of his puissant mentor, his savior, his God dissolved into oblivion as the photo retired to ashes. He lost her. He failed her.
The sleight of a man-made demon dreamed an invention of their own design to penetrate the laws of time and rewrite history to its avail. It was a means to an end, but so too would it prove a vessel that would return Kyle to his angel. He traveled across time for her, for him... His seed, his son, his redemption. He writhed in her arms, as he sowed their fate. She raked at his back, but as her fingers found the burns that once seared his flesh her ecstasy turned to woe. She laid a kiss upon his scared lips, a tear drawing at her eye. He's only a child, she knew, but no: he was something more. He was a leal disciple to her unborn son, sent to intercede in this desperate scheme to dismantle the resistance at its source. He was given this mission, this duty long before he even knew. John knew, but he never told him this truth, for it was for him alone to discover. Having everything torn away from him at such a young age, he wanted only for the boy to find his destiny on his own. It was all a man has left once all is lost, their destiny, and john would not rob him of it. He isn't to know the truth until the time is right; the truth that he is His father. The boy grew up to love his own son as the father he never had, now the time had come for him to meet his bride. True star crossed lovers, they were: An orphan child, and a frightened woman, with the heart to bring down empires. She did not yet know her potential, perhaps it was only rousted in her after the warrior Kyle Reese shared himself with her. Perhaps his love ignited the fire in her soul. But there, staring into his forlorn eyes, she knew, she saw, a storm was coming, and only this love would be strong enough to weather it.
A deafening blast sent her tumbling down a flight of steel stairs. She slammed hard into the grating, the wind left from her lungs upon impact. In a drunken daze stars danced before her, taunting her with her own frailty. She saw Kyle, his still eyes staring blankly at nothing. He was gone. The only man she had ever loved taken from her by a monster of inevitability. She would never forget that cold stare: blood streaming from his nostrils, jaw hanging lose, his lips parted ever so slightly, wanting only the taste of life, and love; a taste he would never have again. He sacrificed himself for her, but only to buy her the time to flee, for there was nothing in her world that could stop it. The silver creature crawled after her, cords hanging, metal spine dragging, hydraulic fluid spilling like blood. It would never stop. She crushed it in a press, it's sinister red eye faded to darkness, a sea of electricity poured from its wounds as it perished. but it would never stop. One of its fingers had punched a hole into her leg, forever leaving its mark on her. The scar would always remind her, it will never stop until she, and everything she loved was dead.
Sarah Connor awoke the way she often had, in a cold sweat, and a shutter. Sometimes it was a phantom gun that would jar her senses to consciousness; her trigger finger squeezing until her nail dug deep into her palm. Other times she was stirred by nightmares, recollecting the plight of a foreign liquid metal that drove it's way through flesh and bone at her shoulder when the t-1000 cornered her some years ago. She sat up in bed panting. She flexed her shoulders and the webbed scar on her back where the bite of his blades had caught her tightened. They still hurt her, those wounds, but none like the memory of Kyle to max her anguish. She often wondered if it was somehow all a dream. Dr. Silberman seemed to believe so, that was until one of those dreamed delusions came to liberate her from her prison, and take her to undue Skynet's fowl work once and for all. It will never stop, she reminded herself again.
The motel was decrepit, lost somewhere on the edge of civilization and long forgotten by even the small population that inhabited this middle-of-nowhere Texas town. A ruin to squat in, as she saw it. Sarah sought to keep a mindful distance from all major cities. She was a fugitive on the run, and the dreadful day had at last arrived that would prove all of her fears a palpable reality. But she woke to silence. Looking over to the bed across from hers, she found her son, now eighteen, fallen face-down into a listless sleep. His snoring churned so peacefully. She grimaced. Sleep was their only true escape short of death. Walking to the bathroom she found her weary reflection in the mirror. Her hair was sere straw, tousled and defiant, stained with hoary strands at her temples. Sharp lines drew her visage with age and stress, and her green eyes were heavy with dark bags clinging to the rims of her lashes. She glowered, thinking of uncle Bob, an artificial father who had protected them merely because a program told him to do so. Love had never been apart of his knowing, but nevertheless they both shared their remorse at his fall. These days the average American loved their computers, and cars, and video games just the same. But uncle Bob was different; cold by nature, but cordial in spirit. No, wait... He had no spirit... He would never stop, he can never die.
It was only a mirror's reflection. He was different because that was how the human in them chose to see him. They saw what they wanted. For he was a machine, a killing machine, reprogrammed to do all that was in his power so to accomplish his mission: to save John Connor. Everything else was a lie. In her heart she saw strength and determination, in her reflection however, she saw only a ruined machine, beaten and battered from years of straining to save humanity. Her son... Her beautiful son... He was the answer, he was all that mattered, and he was alive. And so was Man. She put her fist into the glass, shattering it, the shards slicing open her knuckles. Her tears came. She lost herself and collapsed to her knees, her blood pooling at the bend of her knee and drawing to the floor. She covered her mouth and smothered her cries so not to wake her son. It was August 29th 1997. Judgment Day was but a dream, and they were living in a parallel universe: trapped in a mirror where monsters were Fairytales, and scientists were gods. She was just a deranged psychopath that believed machines were coming to silence the race of Man. But she knew well the truth that no one would ever dare believe, not even her... Not anymore.
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