The Four Times John's A Father and the One Time That He Can't Be
While in labor, Kate squeezes John's hand with more strength than he had ever known she possessed. Her hair was matted to forehead with sweat, her face twisted in anguish and her teeth were clinched so tight that John sometimes had to wonder if she was breathing. With all of this, John had never seen her look more beautiful.
"You're doing great, Kate," coaches Becca Sherwood, a valued member of the Resistance and assistant to his wife. "Give me one more big push."
Kate's grip becomes tighter and soon her pained screams turn into the wails of their baby girl.
When the infant is placed on its mother's chest after being cleaned up, there's no question for the new parents. John kisses Kate's temple while she strokes the baby's soft, pink cheek. "Sarah."
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Months after being born, Sarah's tiny legs take her about one and a half steps before she plops back onto the dirt floor of the room she shares with her parents. Her soft whimpers are what grabs her father's attention from his beeping laptop.
John frowns at the sight of her trembling lips, "Whatcha ya doing, Sarah?"
She looks up at him with Kate's eyes, "Wa," she declares with a hint of inflection.
He interprets that as 'walking' and he smiles at his daughter, admiring her determination. "You have to give it time, champ."
As if finding the statement insulting, Sarah rises to the challenge, literally. Initially, she gets on all fours and pushes off of her arms. Her balance wavers causing John to stand quickly. He goes to catch her but instead watches in awe as his 10 month old child stands on steady feet. His sudden change in position causes her to hesitate and she stares at him, momentarily startled. However, she moves seconds later, taking one gingerly step after another. As she gets closer to John, Sarah goes faster. When she finally reaches him, she lays her tiny hands flat against the front of his legs and giggles. Her giggles turn into fits of laughter when he takes high above his head with a proud smile.
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Sarah's eight when John first places a rifle into her hand. They stand in the weapon room side by side. Kate observes with their second child, a 3 yr. old David, in her arms. Kate hadn't liked the decision but she knew that protection was a necessity. She'd do anything to insure that her children were kept safe.
John thoroughly tells her which part is which, what it does and what ammunition to use. He never goes onto a new topic without making sure that she understands completely. Her comprehension reminds John of himself and those are the times when John more than wishes that the world was different. But he knows that she can handle it. She's the perfect combination of her parents. She's got Kate's stubborn streak and her kind heart—she's got her father's instincts and hope.
Sarah nods her head when he finishes explaining the rifle. John then moves on to explain the machines.
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The siblings' bickering has now become as common as the hot sun in LA. So when David, now 7 yrs. old, runs through the base with an angry Sarah behind him, it doesn't surprise their parents.
"Mom, dad, mom, dad" David chants, clearly out of breath, "I have to tell you something. Sar--"
Sarah quickly chimes in before he has a chance to go any further, "Don't you dare, you little brat. One more word and I'll hang you upside down from a tree by your shorts."
David honestly couldn't care less but John warns firmly, "Sarah…"
David looks at both of his parents with bright eyes, reveling in getting to tattle on his older sister. "Sarah kissed Zach Gordon."
Kate and John turn to Sarah expecting a full denial but got no such thing. Instead, a blush rose across Sarah's face.
It was then that John realized that his little girl was growing up. She was transforming into a beautiful teenager. Her dark red hair was inching past her shoulders and her smile was less innocent and slyer. There was nothing he could do to halt evolution. He felt Kate touch his hand and he figured the serene expression on her face must be the same that was upon his own. He said that only thing that seemed fitting, "So when do we get to have him over for dinner, champ?"
His tease and the family's laughter cause her pink to turn a bright crimson.
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The day of his funeral is the most beautiful Sarah's seen. It's also the most peaceful, like Skynet knows to take the day off. The bastards…she would kill them all. They had no idea of what venom they had started. Poison. In the pit of her belly, there was a dark, hot fire that wouldn't back down. There was an anger that cloaked every bit of her sadness and made her hard. The resistance will win this war. She watches as Barnes, Blair and a few others carry the makeshift box to the hole that's six-feet in the desert ground. Sarah wants to stop them and say something poignant but she can't. There's nothing left. It'd been so hard already, speaking final words to him…waiting for his final draw of breath. There was no breath left and Sarah had run out of words. Later she would run out of tears.
Her mother is a complete wreck beside her; her sobs are the only audible sound in the crowd. Sarah continues to run her hand along her mother's back in comfort and gaze at her with sympathy. Kate's lack of stability is disconcerting to Sarah. She was so used to seeing her mother poised, never before had her mother broke down the way she did when she heard news of the death. Kate had never gotten the chance to say goodbye. It was another spit of gasoline to the raging fire.
An hour later, the three of them are the only ones there. At some moment, they silently agree that it's time to go. They have to look at his death as any other causality because there was no time to grieve, process or mourn.
Sarah and Kate turn to leave. John doesn't follow. Instead, the forlorn father walks to the new pile of dirt and kneels to it. He lays his hand against the soil and scans it with eyes so lost, Sarah wonders if they would ever hold a different expression again. John whispers, "I love you, son."