This is my take on an alternate and/or added scene from season 2 episode, "To The Lighthouse." The kitchen scene has been pilfered and will be in italics.

Beginning paragraph in italics is one of Sarah's brilliant monologues from season 2 episode, "The Tower is Tall but the fall is short."

No beta. Grammar and spelling errors happen.

My father slept with a gun under his pillow. There was no pill for his sickness, no medicine to ease his mind. He left blood and sweat and part of his soul in a foreign land. My father never talked to me about the war he fought. He never talked to anyone. Ever vigilant, ever silent. I never thought I'd follow in his footsteps.

For close to eighteen years I've been hunted and haunted by killer cyborgs from the future. There are many variations of the cyborgs called Terminators. Each one powerful, resilient, and unrelenting in the pursuit of it's one and only goal. Eliminate my son, John Connor.

My impending death has loomed like a heavy, rain stuffed cloud since 1984. I've been shot, stabbed, tossed around like a broken doll, stomped on, clawed, choked, and in more car accidents than a crash test dummy. Imagine my surprise when I found out I wouldn't go out in a blaze of glory defending John or fighting to save the future. Instead something as mundane as cancer would take me down.

Cameron, the reprogrammed terminator John sent back through time to protect us, was kind enough to sucker punch me with the date of my death due to cancer. The fact that we jumped over said death left me with mixed feelings. It's possible the trip across time allowed me to avoid the Big C. It could also be that the jump and my forced precarious lifestyle have hastened the disease's arrival.

I found the lump on my breast just a few days ago. The same day John's girlfriend, Riley's body was found. Was the teens murder a portent of my own end?

It was also the day I learned Derek had betrayed John and I. He'd held back information that could have led to any number of bad outcomes.

I'd been close to letting my guard down with Derek. Judgment Day and the war had turned him into a bitter soldier. Who knew what he'd seen? What brutalities he'd faced on a daily basis? I tried to sympathize. After all, what little I knew about the future I had learned from his brother, Kyle. Kyle painted a portrait of a future as dismal as the Holocaust. But while Kyle maintained hope and compassion those qualities seemed to have been just about depleted from Derek.

So, when my fingers traced the unfamiliar bulge beneath my skin I couldn't confide in Derek. I no longer trusted him. My love for his brother no longer compelled me to care for him. I owed him no more or less than I owed anyone else.

Cameron was a wild card. I'd never really trusted her. She was metal. No one in their right mind trusted metal. I'd tolerated her for John's sake and because she was valuable as a weapon but ever since the jeep explosion she'd been acting more and more peculiar. I couldn't share this with her.

John had enough burdens. There was no way I was going to add to them by telling him my days were numbered. I'd taught John everything his father had taught me about survival. Every bit of knowledge and strength I'd scavenged along the way since then had been passed on. I'd fought for him and alongside him for seventeen years. I had to hope it'd be enough.

There was only one person left I trusted to look after my son. One man who would devote the rest of his life to protecting him, teaching him more skills to shape him into the great leader he was destined to become.

That's how I came to be standing in the kitchen of Charley Dixon's lighthouse. It's the reason why I was looking forlornly out the window at my son and the man I'd once been engaged to. We'd have gone to the next stage and been married by now if it weren't for the return of the of the nightmare machines.

Charley and John both looked sad and wistful as they worked on Charley's boat. They'd both suffered too much loss and pain. I'd been powerless to stop it but I could save them from having to watch me succumb to the cancer. I loved them both. Because of that I'd leave soon.

Charley went out for supplies after John passed out in the guest room. I spent a little while watching him sleep. I know it freaks John out when I watch him. I can't help myself. I love him. I never want to lose him.

I might have stood there all night and watched him slumber were it not for the sound of tires crunching gravel, announcing Charley's return. He was still unhappy when he came inside. He had every right to be. Years ago I'd ditched him without a word or a note. He'd started a new life after a while. Moved from Nebraska to L.A. and gotten married. Depending on perspective, I'd been directly or indirectly responsible for Michelle's death.

Charley had been avoiding me since John and I arrived. His kitchen had only one entrance/exit. I chose to make my approach there because I knew he'd be stuck.

His hair had grown out. He looked so casual in his jeans and flannel shirt. Bits of stubble only enhanced his chin and cheeks. His warm toast colored eyes weren't quite so warm when they looked my way. They were reserved. His demeanor tense. Standing at the fridge putting away his beer and other supplies.

I brought up a past customer from the diner in Nebraska where he and I had first met. Charley was a gentleman even when angry or unhappy. He didn't tell me to get lost. He just opened a beer and let me ramble on.

He looked distracted at first. I still hadn't told him why John and I had shown up unannounced. He listened though, probably praying I'd get around to the point before he finished his beer.

When I got around the part about trust Charley perked up. His eyes told me he knew I'd been referring to him as the man who'd always be there for me.

"I got nothin, Sarah. Nothing left to give you."

The tears hovered. I knew it already. I could tell by his standoffishness. It still hurt to hear the words said aloud. I looked up to help hold the tears back. "Not for me." I glanced in the direction where John lay asleep. "John."

"John?" he repeated as he came a little closer. "He seems like he's pretty full up of people taking care of him."

"I don't trust any of them." I bridged the gap between us, leaving only about a foot of space separating us.

"Yeah, well..." He turned to face me full on. "he's still got you. Right?" He smiled a little awkwardly.

I tried the same but failed miserably. My throat constricting. Tears ready to spill. I reached for his hand. Whispered, "gimme." when I felt his initial resistance. His wedding ring shined. He loved Michelle. He'd never forget her. I ran my thumb over the ring, offering my respect for their broken union.

The look on Charley's face was pure confusion as I brought his hand up and closer until I made him settle it on my chest. He seemed unsure as I guided his hand and fingers to the ridge. His whole body tensed a minute. Then it was like he was gumby. Everything drained from him.

"Oh, Sarah." He released a shuddering sigh. Then slowly pulled his hand away. "How long?"

"I don't know. I found it a few days ago."

"Are you sure it's..."

"I think so."

"How do you know?"

"Cameron said when we jumped eight years through time we jumped over my death."

"From cancer?"

I nodded. Tears still hovering. Words were too much.

"If-If you jumped over it then how..."

I didn't want to talk about it anymore. Talking about it made it so much more real. So final. For Charley I had to. I couldn't drag this out. My eyes were filled with tears. I could barely see. I just plowed ahead. "It doesn't mean I don't still get it, Charley. It doesn't mean it's not in me. And sometimes I think with the things I've done maybe I've sped up the date." I licked my lips and arched my brow. Still fighting like hell not to actually cry.

Charley sighed. Hearing the words, watching me struggle was tearing him up inside.

This last part would be the hardest to say. For seventeen years I heeded Kyle's words from future John. "There is no fate, but what we make." Maybe I'd made bad choices and brought this on myself. Maybe fate was just a cruel son of a bitch.

"It's my fate, Charley." my voice cracked. I lost the battle with the tears.

"No. Come here." Charley wrapped me in his arms. He held me tight. Strong hands gently soothing everywhere.

"It's my fate, Charley." I clung to him. "There's nothing I can do."

He rocked me back and forth. Whispered sweet words to distract me. Held me. His warm lips brushing across my neck.

I hadn't had these kinds of feelings for so long. I'd denied myself since John and I left Charley in Nebraska. Then, suddenly, every good time the two of us had shared came flooding back. I didn't resist when his soft comforting kisses become more eager. I stretched my neck longer so he had more surface to kiss.

I slid my arms back and forth across his shoulders. Reveling in his strength and stability. The soft, fuzzy flannel felt so good beneath my fingertips. His lips working steadily toward my mouth felt even better.

I put up zero resistance when he kissed me slow and tender while walking me backward to his room. My hands in his hair and at the nape of his neck. The memories leading me to do everything I knew he wanted.

I returned his kisses with a fervor. Eyes closed tight as he moved against me. Our clothes quickly making a trail from his bedroom door to his bed. I was making up for lost time. For all the lost kisses and lonely nights.

Charley's touch and feel waking me up. His tongue making me want more. My body remembered it was still alive. I was still capable of desire. I let myself have what I'd denied for too long. Just for one night I let myself believe things could be different.

Thank you for reading. Comments always welcome and appreciated. This is my first straight fic. Cameron's only mentioned. Never once seen. I think I'm having withdrawals. :)

CBLG said there aren't enough Charley/Sarah fics on this site. She's right. If you're a fic writer the gauntlet is hereby thrown. Show some Charley lovin :)

Happy birthday CBLG