I do not own Terminator and what have you. I just enjoy it. A new fandom -- Terminator! I saw the first movie the night before I saw Terminator: Salvation, and I love it. To me, the movie series is all about Kyle Reese and Sarah Connor.

R&R -- I haven't done a fanfiction in years, and I want to know if I should keep going with this story.

--The Author

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A sudden explosion outside the compound rocked it to its core. No one was hurt -- no one living, anyway -- and there was no structural damage, to the fort, anyway, but the mood inside the compound shifted. Wildly.

The landmine that had been triggered could only be triggered by a machine.

The attack was imminent.

Everyone had been fairly relaxed, all things considered. Guards had been walking the perimeter. Inside, officers had talked logistics. They had been waiting for the moment. That was it -- "the moment," what were they to do, then, at the moment. Soldiers scrapping together what they could, some warmth here, a feeling of something in their stomach there. Thirsty, always thirsty. A case of diarrhea had sprung up in the past few weeks. They were dealing with it.

And then the explosion.

Everyone ran to battle stations. Soldiers found officers. Officers found positions. Comm men relayed note of an imminent attack to HQ.

Everyone shouting, rushing about, but they all knew it was the calm before the storm. No bullets fired yet. No casualties, besides whatever it was that had triggered the landmine.

Reese's heart sped up. It always did before battle. He worked on tying his gun to his shoulder. He needed something to do with his hands. Marcus Wright had taught him to tie a gun to his shoulder. Now they couldn't take his gun away from him, unless they ripped it from his cold, dead body.

His hands lingered on the jacket. John Connor had given him that jacket. John Connor. It had been a few months since he had encountered him, but Reese was still amazed. Every time he heard John Connor's voice on the radio, he wanted to shout - John Connor! I know him! But he kept his face still. He was a soldier.

His fingers fell upon the chest pocket. Reese hadn't yet checked the pockets. It was John Connor's jacket. It felt like invading his privacy. But now, now Reese looked around. All in his unit were quiet, tense, waiting. Some were praying. Some kept looking out the window. Some muttered to each other. The other one would laugh, quietly, and stop suddenly.

Reese hadn't made any friends yet. He was new, and younger than they were, and less experienced, and he didn't know how to talk to other people, to make friends. He felt overwhelmed by them. There was little time to talk, anyway. There was a war going on.

He felt his fingers fumble at the button. He turned his attention to the button pocket, and opened it. There was something in there. A piece of paper? It felt too thick for that. He took it out.

It was a picture of a woman. A beautiful woman, with big blue eyes and soft lips and blonde hair. The picture was lit by the sun, a kind of soft sun that he hadn't seen in so many years. She looked off into the distance, her eyes focused, set. He suddenly thought she looked sad.

"Whatchoo got?" Tex asked. Reese showed him the picture. Tex's eyes widened. "How'd you get that?"

Reese shrugged. "I found it in my pocket."

"How did you get a picture of Sarah Connor in your pocket?"

Reese's eyes fell back on the picture again. Sarah Connor! The Mother of the Resistance? The mother of John Connor? The First General? Reese had heard stories about her growing up, but had never known what she looked like.

Another landmine went off. Now there was bulletfire, and then more. It was coming from the other side of the compound, but everyone still hopped up and got into formation, ready to return fire. Reese put the picture of Sarah Connor back in his pocket, above his heart. He had to take care of her, and make sure that he got her back to John Connor.