Disclaimer: I do not own Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles or the characters in the story. Hence the word fan in fanfiction.
Author's Note: Okay, you are all entitled to throw virtual trash at me. I haven't updated in several months, which in the fast paced world of the internet, is considered centuries. Also, I haven't thanked all of you personally for the reviews. So thank you so much, and I'm so sorry for the long, long wait. Yes, I will be continuing The Little Robot, but I got to a point where I was just thoroughly stuck in where to go with it. But rest assured, that story will not be abandoned. So here is my apology for the wait in the form of a short story! I hope you like it. :)
Let the winds blow high, let the winds blow low,
Down the street in my kilt I go,
And all the lassies cry hello,
Donald where's your trousers?
Savannah sang quietly and absentmindedly to herself. She sat on the curb in front of the gymnastics studio she attended every week, tapping her foot to keep rhythm with her song.
No, it's me and John Henry's song, she thought and smiled.
Her foot began to quicken, outpacing the original slow beat of her song. Before she knew it, her song slipped out of her mind and she was tapping her foot from impatience. She was usually not one to become impatient, but her mother was late. Late enough to bring even Savannah's optimistic demeanor down. Her shoelaces slowly came undone as she tapped her foot. She bent forward and reached for her shoe. Savannah tried to remember what John had taught her, as she picked up both shoelaces and recited his directions in her head.
"Hey! Do you know the squirrel in the tree? See, er…You make a loop—for the tree. The squirrel runs around the tree…and dives in the hole…and scurries out the other side."
When she was done, she smiled contentedly at the perfect bow she made. She played with one of her bright auburn braids not knowing what to do next. Clouds passed through the darkening cobalt sky overhead. Her round, blue eyes gazed upward trying to distinguish shapes in the fluffy clouds. One looked like a duckling, she noted to herself. It looked like one of the three ducklings, Chickie, Fluffy, and Feathers, that she and John Henry had played with when she suggested they could change the rules to his game. Anxiously, she watched the sun's last rays of light peek out and beckon towards her, before completely disappearing into the horizon. It was so dark outside now.
The chill of the night began to enclose around her. She pulled her jacket in closer around her blue leotard, then shivered and hugged herself, quickly rubbing her arms in a desperate effort to generate warmth. She couldn't go inside because the door to the studio was locked closed, and Tessa, her gymnastics teacher, was too busy with her next student to hear Savannah knocking. Tessa had insisted she sit and wait for her mother inside, but Savannah knew her mother was never late, always precise, organized, and on top of everything…at least nowadays she was, which was why this confused her. The woman that she considered to be her real mom was sometimes forgetful, but when she looked at Savannah, there was always a twinkle of love in her eyes. She would always give her hugs, let her sit in her warm lap, play hide and seek with her, and make her cookies. Then one day, that all stopped. All the cookies, hugs, and smiles disappeared, taking her mom along with it. Savannah wondered what had happened. She first noticed it when her mother looked at her. The twinkle of love was gone in those no longer familiar, soulless eyes. When she would speak to her, she heard a voice that was no longer gentle and reassuring, but rough and commanding. When she sat in her mother's lap, it would be cold, as if no warmth emanated from her at all. At first, she was afraid of this entirely new person or thing her mother had become. After she visited that nice man named Dr. Sherman, her fear eventually grew into a type of acceptance that this was her mother now.
She stared blankly in the nearly vacant parking lot speculating as to why her mother was so late. Maybe it had to do with John Henry. Savannah noticed that special twinkle appear in her eyes whenever she looked at him and her voice grow fonder when she spoke of him. She had even overheard her mother on a business call with Mr. Ellison, referring to John Henry as "her boy" and "her son". Maybe John Henry was her new brother and was just her mom's favorite child. Of course she terribly missed being the recipient of that loving twinkle in her mother's eyes, but she couldn't help but bounce up and down with excitement whenever she thought of John Henry as her new, older brother. They could play hide and seek and have fun with ducklings all day long! He could even teach her new songs! Savannah was also thrilled at the thought of a new family member. When her father passed away, her mom was all she had. Now with her mother transformed into who-knows- what, she felt entirely bereft of family. Maybe John Henry could change that.
Her thoughts were disturbed by the sudden flash of light in her eyes. She watched a car pull into a parking spot and stop. The headlights dimmed down slowly, and it took awhile for her eyes to adjust back to the darkness. An undistinguishable figure stepped out of the car, his long, tall shadow stretching out across the concrete, and began to walk slowly towards Savannah. The soft wind grew stronger, whipping her braids back, and it encircled her, whispering into her ear the frightening flashbacks of gunshots and a man searching for her in her own house. She grabbed her stuffed giraffe, Eugene, from her gymnastics bag and hugged him close. Her ears strained to hear John Henry's reassuring voice guiding her into safety, and her eyes darted around the parking lot for John Connor to swoop in and save her. Any John would be nice, or anyone, to protect her from whoever was coming closer. Savannah held Eugene up to her face as a shield when the figure came into full view.
"Hello Savannah," a familiar voice said.
She lowered Eugene down from her face and into her lap and sighed with pure relief. It was Mr. Ellison.
"Hello Mr. Ellison. Where's my mommy?" she asked inquisitively.
At this, Mr. Ellison looked away, muttering incoherently, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Savannah just stared at him curiously. The night was still and quiet, the noisy thumps and tumbles of the students from inside the studio could be heard.
"She's gone now," he simply replied, breaking the long silence.
As Savannah absorbed his words, she recollected the memories of her mother's empty, stoic stares, cold lap, failed attempts of affection, and sometimes terrifying commands. Then, something unexpectedly dawned on her, and she spoke her realization aloud to both herself and Mr. Ellison.
"She was already gone."