A Connor Christmas Carol
Based on Charles Dickens's
A Christmas Carol
"No. Absolutely not, and that's final."
"Mom, come on!" John Connor protested. "Christmas comes once a year, every year, and we've never done anything special whatsoever. And no, mom: getting newer body armor doesn't count as a present."
Sarah Connor was slightly surprised by her son's more vocal objections. He had passively acknowledged their family's 'special needs' almost every year, but this year, something had changed. "What's gotten into you, John?" Sarah asked with genuine surprise. "This has never been an issue before."
"Well, for one, you would never let it be an issue. For another, we finally have a family to celebrate Christmas with," John said.
"Did I hear that right?" Derek said from the other room, though he quickly approached. "We're taking a day off to celebrate Christmas? Not that I'm complaining, but it just seems a bit…"
"No," Sarah said with finality. "It'd be a drain on our time and resources that could better be used to fight Skynet or track down Kaliba. We can't spare a moment for such pointless things, so we won't."
"It's not pointless," Cameron said from the kitchen doorway. Sarah turned, startled, to find the cyborg just standing there. It had probably been there for some time, eavesdropping. "Humans break under pressure," Cameron said without emotion or inflection. "Recreation relieves pressure. Christmas is a significant break from the stress that humans face."
Sarah had had it. Even the machine was taking up arms against her. "This conversation is what's pointless, got it? Reese, you know what it's like in the future. You know better than anyone else here. I'm surprised you think so little of our safety – so little of John's safety – to risk losing our momentum like this.
"And John, I'd have thought you'd understand by now. How many times have we had this talk, and how many times have we gone on with our lives? It's always been fine before now, and it'll be fine this year as well.
"And you, Tin Miss, what do you know about anything? You were sent here to protect John, but you want to risk his life – risk all of our lives – by letting our guard down for some children's fantasy?"
Sarah looked around to see what sort of impression she had made. Derek was silently brooding, Cameron looked blank as always, and John… John was angry and hurt, and he stormed off upstairs without another word. The machine started to follow.
"Where are you going, Tin Miss?" Sarah asked scornfully.
"I'm going to protect John," she replied as though it were obvious.
Sarah snorted. "He's in his room. What can hurt him in there? He wants to be alone. What do you think you're protecting him from?"
The machine tilted its head to the side and narrowed its eyes. "I'm protecting John from you," it said quietly, almost threateningly. But it said nothing more and continued upstairs after John. It almost seemed to be hurrying a bit.
Sarah went slack-jawed at the ridiculousness of that pronouncement, and then turned her gaze on Derek. "What about you, Reese? Do you agree with the machine on this one?" she challenged.
Derek just shook his head. "Where I come from, Sarah, John Connor always told us how his mother was the greatest fighter he had ever known, and probably ever would know."
Sarah snorted haughtily. "And you disagree?"
"No," Derek said heavily. "You're a hell of a fighter, Sarah. But sometimes it seems like you can't do anything else." Derek began to head for the front door.
"Don't you walk away from me, Reese!" Sarah yelled after him. "You think this is easy for me? Do you have any idea what I've sacrificed for John's sake?"
Derek stopped and turned to face Sarah, a sad look on his face. "I have some idea, actually. Whatever you once were, Sarah Connor, the person you are right now… You're not my brother's type." So saying, Derek turned once more and exited the house.
Night had fallen hours ago, but Sarah could find no sleep. The way that everyone had turned against her, and over something so trivial, too… It was all so stupid. None of them knew anything.
Sarah rolled over on her side, trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, but it wouldn't come. The faint breeze coming from the window wasn't helping either. Sarah turned over to look at the window, but it was still firmly shut.
Sarah closed her eyes and put her fingers to her temples. "I must be losing it," she said aloud.
"You may be losing something, Sarah," a soft male voice said, "But certainly not your mind," the voice of Dr. Silberman, sitting on the end of Sarah's bed. Sarah reached up to throttle him, but then realized that he really was only a visage; he seemed ethereal and intangible. "Yes, Sarah, I'm not really here. Or, rather, my body isn't. My mind seems to have left me a while back. Around the time you escaped from Pescadero with your own sanity quite intact. I was left a paranoid and delusional shell of my former self."
Sarah snorted, not nearly as surprised as she should be by this strange turn of events. "So, what? Your sane half comes to haunt me in my sleep? Tell me that I'm going crazy?"
"No, Sarah," the infuriatingly patronizing voice said. "You're far from crazy, but you are obsessed. You've lost sight of some very important things: human things, Sarah. And I know that I'm the last person you're likely to listen to…"
"So why're you here?" Sarah spat venomously.
"I'm just a messenger," the ghost (was it a ghost?) of the one-time doctor said. "You've lost perspective on what Christmas is all about. You may not listen to me, but there are three others who I think you will listen to. They'll be here later tonight. I'd wish you pleasant dreams, Sarah, but you've told me what haunts you in your sleep." Silberman began to walk away, and his figure began to fade. "If it's any consolation, those same nightmares visit me now. Every night without fail…" And then he was gone.
Sarah opened her eyes and found herself in her bed, apparently having fallen asleep without even realizing it. But then, sleep was always like that. A small 'hmph' escaped her lips at the ludicrous dream she'd just had. She knew the story of A Christmas Carol well enough, but the notion that she was somehow the Scrooge in this household… Sarah realized that she must be a lot more stressed than she had previously thought.
But now, Sarah was quite unable to sleep. Maybe a midnight snack would help quell her uneasiness. Sliding out of bed, Sarah made her way downstairs to the kitchen. She pulled a cereal box out of the cabinet and began to pour herself a bowl.
"I remember breakfast cereal. Beats making pipe bombs in a hurry, I'd bet," a familiar voice said, causing Sarah to look up in surprise and disbelief.
"Kyle," she said breathlessly.
"In a sense, I suppose," he acknowledged. "I'm here because you need me, Sarah. And because John needs you."
"I'm always there for John," she said quietly as she reached out to touch Kyle's face. But the words were defensive, she knew, and it hurt when her fingers went right through Kyle's ghostly face.
"You're always protecting him," Kyle said gently. "But sometimes he doesn't need a sentinel. Sometimes he needs his mother." He smiled softly down at Sarah. "Do you remember John's very first Christmas?"
Sarah shook her head. "Only vaguely," she confessed.
Kyle smiled gently. "Let's go and remember it, shall we?" The kitchen faded and was replaced by a different kitchen.
"I remember this place," Sarah said, not realizing that she should be fazed by the rapid change of setting.
"Yes, Sarah. This was the apartment you rented just after… Just after we met," Kyle said. Sarah appreciated his gentleness in trying not to conjure up the horrible things that surrounded their two days together.
"I knew I had to keep moving, but I wasn't ready to start just yet. John was barely a month old." She looked at Kyle suddenly. "Wasn't my dad here for this?"
"I do believe he was," Kyle said with a gentle smile, and they found themselves spectators of a living room alight with Christmas decorations, stockings stuffed with small presents, and a small, but very real, Christmas tree, underneath which were some colorfully-wrapped gifts. A few were labeled 'Sarah,' but most had John's name on them.
"I wasn't ready to go into hiding. Not just yet," Sarah remembered. "And I thought my dad deserved to meet his grandson, even if it was only once. I just wish mom could have been there," Sarah said remembering how the terminator had so cruelly mimicked her mother's voice to find her and Kyle.
At the table, a much younger Sarah held her baby son on her lap, a glowing smile on her face. An older man sat on her right, an arm wrapped around his daughter's shoulders. Both Connors' faces were alight with happiness.
"It was the best Christmas I can remember," said Sarah fondly. "I never really had a Christmas after that. It was always running from one place to the other, preparing for Judgment Day."
"And John? When was his favorite Christmas?" Kyle asked gently, but the answer was already there in plain sight.
And Sarah knew that answer, and she suddenly felt very dirty. "He wouldn't remember this one. He never knew Christmas, did he?" She paused and looked at Kyle, seeking forgiveness. "I never let him have one," she said sadly.
Kyle moved a ghostly hand to stroke Sarah's cheek. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she thought she felt something there. "Do you remember how you felt? In that room over there, I mean?" asked Kyle.
Sarah looked back at the happy faces and tried to remember. "I was scared, knowing what was coming. But being with my family, I was able to just forget it all for a short while, and just be happy."
Realization hit Sarah like a fist to her stomach. "And I've never allowed John that escape," she said aloud.
"And now you have a better idea," said Kyle hopefully.
Sarah shook her head. "Maybe it would have worked a few years ago. Or, rather, maybe ten years ago, back before we jumped ahead so that Judgment Day is almost here. We don't have any time to spare anymore. I wish I could make things different, but I just can't."
Kyle looked down sadly. "I'm sorry, Sarah. Maybe someone else will have better luck. Our son deserves that much," he said as he began to fade.
"Kyle! No, don't go!" Sarah cried out, but he was already gone. She felt suddenly alone and vulnerable, and also very dirty, though she couldn't explain the last. She needed a shower. It would help her relax, she hoped, and maybe then, she could finally get some sleep.
The hot water and steam had felt good, but it hadn't been able to fully relax Sarah's mind or body. She finished drying herself off and put on a bathrobe.
Sarah heard footsteps outside the bathroom door. Lacking any proper weapon, she got ready to burst out into the hall with her fists and elbows and feet to meet the intruder, but when she flung the door open, she found herself face to face with, "Charley!" she said breathlessly. "But you're…"
"Yup. I'm definitely dead," Charley said with that same gentle smile he wore so well. "But I'm here for you now, Sarah."
Sarah laughed at herself. "I really am going crazy. I ruined your life, and now I'm ruining your afterlife."
Charley placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder, and again, while it was only a ghostly limb, Sarah wanted to believe she could feel something there. "John was a great kid. He still is. He's like the son I never had. And knowing how important he is… Well, I'm just glad I didn't die for nothing."
Sarah's heart went out to this pure and good-hearted man whose life she had wandered into like a tornado and so casually destroyed. "Why are you here, now?" Sarah asked quietly.
"To show you what it is you're missing, Sarah. You need to understand that John is suffering, and you're not doing right by him," Charley said bluntly. "He finally has some semblance of family to celebrate Christmas with, and his mom is telling him he can't have it."
Sarah snorted. "Family, right. Derek might be blood, but he's nothing like Kyle. And as for…" Sarah didn't even want to think about that one!
"The very scary robot?" Charley probed. "You'd be surprised, Sarah. Let me show you."
The hallway faded and gave way to John's room. He was awake, despite the hour, lying back on his bed, atop the sheets. But Sarah's blood boiled at seeing Cameron lying there next to him. "What the hell does she think she's doing?" Sarah growled.
"Watch and listen," said Charley gently as he turned to do just that.
John had been in the middle of saying something, but Sarah only caught the end of it. "… worst Christmas ever."
"Why?" asked Cameron with that strange innocence that only came from a machine that knew nothing of humanity. "You complained earlier today that you had received unsatisfactory gifts before. You didn't find those less appealing?"
John sighed. "Christmas isn't about the presents, Cam," he said, and Sarah scowled at the affectionate nickname he used for the machine. "It's about spending quality time with your family and enjoying their company. And just, I don't know, taking some time to realize how good you have it, even if the world is going to hell around you."
Cameron turned her head to face John's, still looking confused. "But this year is still no different from any other. Why is…"
"No, Cam. This year is different. Before, it was always just me and mom. But now, you and Derek are here, and it feels like we finally have a sort of family. A strange, messed up, highly dysfunctional family, but we're still a family. And I hate that we can't even enjoy just being family for one day, even."
Sarah was dumbfounded. Was this really what John thought? How could he possibly trust Derek and Cameron after all they'd suffered because of them?
Cameron seemed equally confused. "Family? I don't understand. I was built. I have no familial relations. We are not family."
"Yes, we are, Cam," John protested. "How do I put this? Family is about more than just blood relations. It's about people you can trust to be there for you no matter what. Family means people who care about you and want what's best for you, especially in tough times."
Cameron tilted her head slightly. "In that case, I am your family," Cameron said plainly. She looked at John with an unusual expression. "Are you my family, John?" she asked with a disgusting display of faux-innocence.
John turned to look her in the eyes. "Do I care about you and want what's best for you? Yes, Cameron. I do. And I guess that makes us each other's family."
Cameron's lips twitched upward almost imperceptibly. "Thank you for explaining, John," she said softly.
Sarah found the whole scene revolting. "That's just… That is wrong. There is no other word for it. It is wrong and I have to stop it," Sarah said with fiery determination.
"And how would John react to that?" challenged Charley. "Scary robot she might be, but she's loyal to John to a fault, and would do anything to keep him safe. Even now, she's protecting him."
Sarah snorted. "From what? She's trying to seduce my son! It is trying to seduce him, and it may be succeeding!"
"Or," countered Charley gently, "it could be that John feels quite a bit more alone than you may realize. You may have been there for him for most of his life, but when you're on opposing sides, John has never had anyone to go to before." He motioned at Cameron. "Not before," Charley repeated.
Sarah was furious and ready to argue some more, but her gaze shifted back to John's room. John now seemed to be resting quite peacefully. Somehow, Sarah knew that Cameron was going to try and take advantage of her son now, when he was vulnerable. She didn't know how she knew, but she just knew.
But Cameron surprised her. She got up from the bed and pulled the bed sheets over John's body. Her hand then moved towards his face, as if she was about to stroke him with the back of her hand. But she seemed to reconsider a moment before the contact, and she withdrew her hand. The machine then exited John's room, closed the door, and stood guard.
"What is she doing?" Sarah asked aloud, more to herself than to Charley.
He responded anyway. "She's helping him to relax. You can't fight a war on pure adrenaline. It runs dry, eventually, and you need to stop and breathe. She may not be putting herself in front of bullets, but she is protecting him, Sarah," Charley said.
Sarah felt only somewhat reassured by the words, and she reminded herself that John was far too smart to forget for a moment what Cameron truly was. Wasn't it Cameron's profession of love for him that had been the final straw that made John pull the plug on her when she'd gone bad? Sarah felt a sudden shame for giving her son too little credit.
"Thank you, Charley," she said. But when she looked up, she saw that Charley had already gone. "I really am losing it," Sarah said to herself. But at least now, she felt relaxed enough to get some sleep.
Sarah walked to her room, closed the door, and collapsed on her bed. She didn't bother pulling the sheets over herself as sleep took her.
The fires raged throughout the war-torn ruins of Los Angeles. Sarah wandered about her nightmare with a strange detachment. As horrible as her nightly visions were, her mind was elsewhere. Was she wrong about this whole Christmas thing? Was she doing what was best for John, or did she maybe not know best?
As Sarah traversed the rubble all around her, she saw a black-gloved hand sticking out of the debris. She wondered briefly if its owner was dead or not, but then the hand did something she didn't expect, but that she remembered all too vividly: it gave a thumbs-up sign.
Knowing that this particular figment of her imagination was no threat, Sarah reached and pulled the T-800 free of its concrete prison. It looked just as it had before she'd lowered it into the vat of molten steel: half of its face was exposed, showing it for what it truly was.
Sarah waited for the machine to say something, but it remained silent. Finally, Sarah couldn't take it anymore. "What do you want?" she cried out.
"My mission is to protect John Connor," it said in that memorable Austrian accent. "Your actions have placed John Connor in danger," it said tonelessly.
Sarah backed off, but the machine didn't move. "If I'm a threat, why don't you just get it over with and kill me?" she barked at it.
"Because there is still time to right this wrong. Come, Sarah. Watch, listen and understand," the machine said, eerily reminiscent of Kyle Reese. The dark and fiery landscape faded, and a dimly lit room took its place. There were no fancy furnishings to indicate that this gathering of people was any different from any other, but the faces told another story. They were alight with joy and happiness, and Sarah understood that she was looking at a Christmas party that somehow still existed after the end of the world.
There was Derek, but this was a Derek that hadn't traveled back in time yet. "Kyle would have liked this," he said to no one in particular. "God, I wish he was still here." He looked at an older man with eyes that Sarah immediately recognized. "And you still won't tell me where you sent him?"
"I may, Derek," the future John Connor said, "but not yet. For now, though, let's just be grateful that we all have each other. Too little do we take the time to appreciate that despite all the hardships we suffer, we're still alive, and we're still human."
The small group of Resistance fighters in the room gave a round of 'Amen' and 'Hear hear.' One soldier chuckled, though. "Well, that goes for most of us," he said darkly
Sarah didn't understand that last remark, but she understood that these people, even after the end of the world, could take solace in each other, and find some small bit of light in a world filled with darkness.
Everyone rose their glasses (or mugs, or canteens, really), and gave their own toast. "To my brother, Kyle Reese," Derek said. "Wherever you are, little bro, Merry Christmas," he said.
"To the love of my life, Kate Brewster," another soldier said. "May she find it in her heart to love a scoundrel such as myself," the man said, and Sarah thought she recognized from a picture somewhere.
"To Martin Bedell," the woman sitting next to him said. "May he deflate his head just enough that I may kiss him and feel something back," she teased, and the two of them did indeed kiss.
And so the toasts went on and on until finally it came to be John's turn. "To Sarah Connor," he said. "Without her guidance and foresight, we would not be here today. We would not be together, and we wouldn't have the hope we do have. May she rest in peace."
Sarah's heart went out to John as another chorus of 'amen' went around the room, and people took a sip, or a swig, of their various drinks.
"Seems like I made a good impression after all," Sarah said, more than a bit surprised after her earlier hallucinations.
"Wait," the T-800 said, and Sarah felt a chill go down her spine.
The scene shifted, and the room gave way to another room. It was smaller, with only a bed and a small table furnishing it. John sat on the bed, alone, his head dipped in what Sarah guessed was deep thought.
The door opened. "John," a familiar voice said. "John, are you all right?" Cameron said. Sarah felt bile rise in her throat that the machine was invading her son's private domain, even In the future.
John sighed and lifted his head up to face Cameron. "No, Cam. I'm not all right. Do you know what today is?"
"Yes. It's December 25th. Christmas," she said simply.
"Yeah," John said bitterly. "It's also one of my least favorite times of the year, if not the single worst day of the year."
Cameron sat down next to John and took his hand in hers. The look John gave her made Sarah's blood boil. She understood that Cameron being in John's room was no rare event. "Talk to me, John. I want to help you," she said in an almost-convincing voice.
John sighed heavily. "Christmas was the happiest day in the world for everyone before J-Day. Except for me. Christmas was just another day training to take the fight to the machines some day. I might get a gift, but it would be a trip to a shooting range, or a new flak jacket or a custom-made gun."
Cameron nodded. "Christmas is meant to be a time of joy, but your Christmases were joyless," she said softly. "I'm sorry, John."
Sarah wasn't sure what hurt more: the cold sadness in John's voice, or Cameron's somehow real-sounding regret for that sadness.
"I wasn't lying when I said we wouldn't be here without my mom," he said, though it sounded like a confession. "She taught me more about survival than anyone else." His eyes started to look a bit wet. "But she also pushed me the point of breaking so many times. She was, and always will be, the best fighter I have ever known. But that's all she was, Cam. She was a fighter. She didn't know how to do anything else."
Sarah's mouth hung open in shock and sadness as her son laid out his true feelings, and to a machine, no less. And that same machine now wrapped John in its arms and brought his head to rest on its lap, stroking his hair. "Your men won't break, John. And neither will you."
John smiled and looked up at Cameron. "How can I?" he asked, and now he smiled. "I have you."
Cameron smiled back and then did the unthinkable. She leaned down and kissed John on the lips, and he returned her kiss!
Sarah's head spun. Had she done this? Had she pushed John so close to the edge, maybe even over the edge, that he was seeking solace, even romance, in a machine?
The T-800 looked Sarah in the eyes, and she couldn't look away from him. "Now do you understand, Sarah Connor?" it asked tonelessly, but the challenge was clear.
Sarah nodded, tears in her eyes. "I think so. God, I hope so. I don't want my son to remember me like this!"
"He doesn't have to," the T-800 said. "The future is not set. There is no fate but what you make, Sarah Connor."
Sarah's eyes shot open and she woke up with a start in her own bed. She distinctly remembered collapsing without having time to pull the sheets over herself, but she was comfortably tucked into her bed. Had it all been a dream? Even if it had been, she couldn't afford to ignore it.
Sarah came down the stairs to find John, Derek, and Cameron sitting around the table, each cleaning a separate gun. "Put those away," Sarah said softly.
"Why?" John asked. "Did you find a lead or something?"
"No. No leads. Just a bit of an epiphany," she said. "We need a few things. Lights, turkey, pine tree, the works. We're going to do Christmas right this year."
Derek just looked at her with his mouth hanging open. Cameron tilted her head, lips slightly parted, eyes wide as usual. John, however, looked overjoyed. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Very serious. How much time do we have left before Christmas Day?"
John now looked awkward. "Um, well," he said, "It's today. The stores are all gonna be closed. Movie theaters and a few restaurants might be open, but that's about it," John said, obviously embarrassed.
Sarah merely smiled. "That doesn't matter. The decorations, the presents, they're secondary. Family is what matters, right? And if we can't have a proper turkey, then we can at least order pizza."
"Pizza? You never let us have pizza," Derek said, obviously unwilling to believe this sudden swell of goodwill.
"Well, Derek, maybe I'm not as much of a Scrooge as we all thought I was," she said, careful to sound as modest as she felt.
Cameron stood up, and her lips turned up a bit. "You're ahead of schedule," she said.
Sarah shook her head and looked at the cyborg. "What? What do you mean?"
"With what you need to learn," she said ominously, and sat back down, putting the gun she'd been cleaning back together to put away.
John got up and hugged his mother. "Merry Christmas, mom."
Sarah held her son close. "Merry Christmas, John. Merry Christmas."
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Terminator, not A Christmas Carol; only this particular story.
Special Thanks to phantomwriter05 for helping me remember that Sarah Connor's mom died in the first movie. I owe you one, friend!
I hope you all enjoy this story! Comments, reviews, etc. are always welcome.
Whether it is Christmas, Hannukah, or any other celebration, here's wishing everyone a Happy Holiday Season! ^_^