Spoilers: Major spoilers for Terminator: Genisys.
Disclaimer: I don't own Terminator: Genisys or any of the characters. I'm only playing in someone else's sandbox. :)
A/N: I just had the chance to watcher Terminator: Genisys and was pleasantly surprised by it. This fic jumped me out of nowhere an demanded to be written.
Warning: This fic contains descriptions of lethal force that is used against a child, though I purposefully kept it vague, as well as some descriptive imagery in regards to injuries. If you're sensitive to either of those things, please read with care. Thank you.
As always, I thank my Lord Jesus Christ for his incredible mercy and grace and his many blessings. I would be utterly lost without him.
Divergence
John Connor already knows where the Reese family lives.
Their address is online, after all. Curiosity had made him look them up originally, along with a healthy dose of caution. He'd needed to plan for every contingency if he were to fulfill his mission and ensure Skynet's survival, and that included the possibility of having to remove Kyle Reese and Sarah Conner from the equation. He'd always hoped that it wouldn't be necessary, but he knew them both well enough to be prepared for that eventuality. And, though he hadn't been sure what part his father's family might play in that, instinct had told him that the Reese clan of this timeline might just prove useful in such a situation.
As it turns out, they will.
So, when John Connor finally frees himself from the magnetic field of the MRI, his first destination is the Reese residence in the country, the trip shortened by the helicopter he takes from a nearby airfield. He lands the chopper far enough away from the house that they won't notice his approach, then he walks the rest of the way.
The house has a security system, for all the good it will do. He disables that, silences the dog that starts barking, and slips inside. Kyle's parents - his grandparents, he supposes - are in the living room, watching TV. He kills them quietly, not wanting to alert Kyle of his presence, but he may as well not have bothered - the boy walks in right after he's done.
It's immediately obvious that this boy is not the one who was born into a war zone, the one who'd had to fight and claw his way to survival. This is a boy who has grown up in safety with all his needs met, and it shows in the way he freezes, in the trembling of his limbs and the horrified widening of his eyes.
But something of the other Kyle must still exist in the boy, because as John Connor approaches, the boy snaps out of his daze and darts to a tall, free-standing bookcase, pulling at it until it unbalances. Kyle dives out of the way as the shelf falls and runs upstairs. The shelf hits John Connor hard enough to leave a dent in his shoulder, but his body knits itself back together with ease.
He respects the boy for trying nonetheless.
He takes the stairs two at a time, though not in a particular hurry. There's nowhere for the boy to go.
He finds Kyle in what is clearly his bedroom, hiding beside his bed, a baseball bat clutched in his hands. He uses that bat when John Connor reaches him, swinging it desperately, putting all of his twelve-year-old muscle behind it. John Connor catches it effortlessly and wrenches it away, tossing it across the room.
The boy tries to flee again, terror giving him a burst of speed, but John Connor is faster and yanks him back, wrapping an arm around his throat.
He morphs his free hand into a blade while the boy struggles.
"I am sorry about this, Kyle," he says, raising the blade. "But it's necessary."
And then he plunges the blade into the boy's back.
They're stocking up on weapons in the make-shift bunker when Kyle makes a wet, choked noise and doubles over the table, clutching at his chest.
"Kyle!"
Sarah is at his side before she even realizes she's moved.
The all-too-familiar scent of blood hits her nose right away, but her training is ingrained enough that she grabs the nearest gun and raises it to her shoulder, finger on the trigger, her gaze sweeping her surroundings, looking for the threat.
Pops is right there with her, armed and ready, his head swiveling back and forth as he scans the room.
She's waiting for John to leap out at them, waiting to see a shelf or maybe that chair morph into the warped, mechanical caricature of her son, but the room stays just as quiet as it was, and a moment later, Pops is lowering his gun.
"The area is clear."
Sarah doesn't question it.
She drops her gun and wraps her arms around Kyle, trying to lift him away from the table so she can get a better look at the wound. Warm, sticky wetness from his back soaks into her shirt right away, and something like a sob bubbles up in her throat, because whatever it was that did this, it must have gone right through him.
The noise seems to rouse him.
"Sar…ah?" he gasps out. "Wha…?"
He frowns and moves his hand from his chest, raising it a little, and she can feel his muscles trembling with the effort.
His fingers are coated in red.
He stares at his hand for a moment, like he can't believe what he's seeing, and then his legs are giving out, and she grunts as she takes his weight but she doesn't let him fall. She lowers him to the floor as carefully as she can, kneeling behind him so that his head is resting in her lap, then she presses one shaking hand against his chest and slips the other under his back, trying to slow the bleeding.
Pops crosses the room in a few strides and crouches down beside them, his gaze running over Kyle's chest, obviously assessing his condition, and Sarah has no doubt that he will be able to help, of course he will. Whoever sent Pops back had been smart enough to add some sort of advanced medical directive to his programming so that he could treat her when she got hurt. It's come in handy more than once. She's never been hurt as badly as Kyle is, but that doesn't matter because Pops is going to save him. He has to.
Except…Pops doesn't move.
"Sarah Connor," he begins, and she knows what it means when he says her name like that.
"No! Help him! Fix this!"
Pops's voice is solemn. "I am unable to comply."
Tears burn her eyes and she shakes her head in furious denial, her fingers curling into the black leather jacket that Kyle is wearing. Kyle's eyes are closed now, and there's a terrible, ragged noise every time he breathes. But he's still alive, and that means there's a chance, right? Pops has to be wrong.
"Just try!"
When Pops speaks again, the words are somehow apologetic despite their matter-of-fact tone. "Even if I were able to repair Kyle Reese, it would not be sufficient to ensure his survival. I do not believe he sustained the original injury."
"What? What are you talking about?! Look at him!"
"I see no evidence that our security has been breached. There was no intruder - his wound appears to have formed without a direct cause. Given that two Kyle Reeses exist in this timeline, one likely explanation remains: the wound was not inflicted on this Kyle Reese."
Sarah's mind reels, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to take in what that means. "But…but…John said we were marooned! Exiles in time!"
"And that may be true for us, as we are unique in this timeline. Kyle Reese is not, and a connection exists between him and his younger counterpart, a connection which allowed him to access his alternate self's memories. It is not a variable I had considered, but it is possible that their connection extends to the physical realm as well. John Connor must have realized this."
Sarah's throat goes dry. "You think John went after the younger version of Kyle?"
"Yes."
"But if he did, why…how would…?"
Her throat closes up before she can get the question out, but Pops seems to know what she's trying to ask.
"If my theory is correct, then they are both fundamentally Kyle Reese. What happens to one affects the other."
The tears she'd fought back earlier win the battle and slip down her cheeks. "If they're both Kyle, then you can help this one!"
"His injuries are too severe."
"No!"
Some part of her, the logical, realistic part, the part that has been bracing for this since day one, tells her she should just accept this, that it was inevitable, that she was always destined to lose Kyle. The rest of her tells that logical part to shut up, because she can't do this, she can't, and it shouldn't hurt so much because, even with all that's supposed to exist between her and Kyle, she barely knows him. But it does hurt, it does, and keeping Kyle at arm's-length was supposed to stop all of this!
She feels it then, the way Kyle's chest isn't moving so much any more. Those rasping noises are getting quieter too, and when she looks down, he's so very, very pale, and so very, very still.
That's when he stops breathing.
For an instant, Sarah stops breathing with him.
"Kyle? Kyle!" She shakes him hard, willing him to wake up, to fight, but he doesn't move, doesn't react. "No, no, no, don't do this! Kyle! Kyle!"
"Sarah Connor," Pops says again.
"No! KYLE!"
She lunges forward, her fists pounding Kyle's chest, shaking him again. But he's just as silent and still as before, his head lolling with every blow until finally she collapses against him, sobs wrenching from her throat, because as determined as she was to make her own choices, for all that she railed against the preordained, she never really imagined a future without Kyle in it somehow, never really wanted a future that he wasn't a part of.
It's Pops who pulls her away from him, as gentle as he knows how to be. She fights at first, trying to twist out of his grip, but Pops holds on, and eventually she gives in, falling against him, burying her face in his shirt.
Later, much later, she'll make Skynet pay, for her parents, for Kyle, for the son she never knew and never will know.
But right now, in this moment, all she can seem to do is cry, and Pops, with his arms wrapped awkwardly around her back, just lets her.
A/N: Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!
Take care and God bless!
Ani-maniac494 :)