Hey guys, I know I'm supper late to the TSCC party but I just discovered this show through Amazon Prime about six months ago. I have since watched it thrice and read sooooo much fan fiction. This is my first attempt at any sort of story writing and I would really appreciate the feedback of any fellow stragglers out there, especially concerning pace and length.
Obviously I don't own the show or any of these characters.
If John Connor had made a list of the things he would expect to see after jumping across time, familiar faces would have probably fallen somewhere between a rock concert and a shopping mall, and not their post J-Day equivalents either. Yet here he stood, looking at three people who an instant ago had been his father, uncle, and sister. They had also all been dead: Kyle protecting him before he was born, Derek because he left him on his own against a T-888, and Cameron... That just wasn't a place John could go. Cameron couldn't be gone, he refused to accept it. If she was gone then that was his fault too. There had been no planning and no preparation, instead of an ally or a friend he had seen only an asset, one he had used without hesitation, and it cost him something he couldn't handle. That was why he was standing in the basement of a ruined building with about half a dozen pairs of eyes glaring at him like he was the devil himself, or more correctly, worked for the devil himself.
"Hey! Kid!"
John had to physically shake himself to snap out of his own head. She was right there.
"Derek, who the hell is this?"
John turned and stared at Kyle Reese who, for his part, was glaring daggers at him over the top of his rifle; John hadn't even seen him raise it. For some reason he just couldn't shake the fog that had all of a sudden clouded his thoughts.
Derek replied easily, trying to lessen some of the tension in the room.
"Name's John Connor, seems to know me, ever heard of him?"
"I got nothin'."
Kyle showed no sign of letting up on his rifle. The small voice that spoke next evaporated the last bits of fog from John's mind like the summer sun.
"Kyle, the dogs. He's not metal."
Allison gave John an uncomfortable glance before turning her attention back to Kyle, who finally moved his finger from the trigger of his rifle. Even if he didn't lower it, it felt to John as though the motion had dropped a hundred pound weight from his back. Allison's head twitched nervously and John realized he'd been staring at her.
"Eyes up, she's not for grabs."
The violence in Derek's hiss caught John by surprise, causing him to jerk his head around in a decidedly guilty motion.
"No! Sorry, it's just she looks..." he turned and found Allison's eyes, "She looks like someone I used to know."
There was a sadness in his voice as he finished the thought. Apparently that was enough for Kyle, who finally lowered his rifle. The two men with him followed suit. John hadn't even noticed their weapons aimed at his chest. He was slipping; all the training his mom had worked so hard to impart on him throughout his life and none of it had kicked in.
"Cute. Story time comes later though, we need to move. There's too much activity in this building for Skynet not to show its face here soon."
Kyle's eyes finished scanning his team and found their way back to John's, "any particular reason you're wearing my favorite jacket?"
Keep it simple, keep it vague. You're in no position to be making up a back story right now.
"Just the first wearable thing I've come across, didn't realize it was claimed."
John made no effort to remove the coat, and luckily Kyle apparently decided to take pity on him.
"Fair enough, keep it until we come across something else. We've got no shoes for you though so you'll still have to go without for a while longer," he turned his attention back to his brother, "Derek, you're on point, get us to a tunnel so we can figure out who this kid is. Allison, bind his hands behind his back, and keep him honest en route."
Kyle's orders were carried out quickly and efficiently. Derek had the squad set to move out before Allison had finished tying up John's hands. Finally getting his head on straight, John fought down the panic he felt at being restrained. Allison was a little rougher than he had expected, but then again, he realized, it was pretty unfair to expect anything out of her. After all, he didn't actually know her.
John tried his best to look everywhere at once without looking at his uncle, who was waiting for the all-clear to move out. He felt the rope wound around his wrists tighten and turned his hands experimentally. The binding was tight; there would be no way to slip out of it without breaking his thumbs.
"Quit moving."
Hearing such a sharp command in Cameron's voice froze both John's thoughts and movements. He barely resisted turning his head as he felt another rope glide between his wrists. He felt this new rope being tied off and couldn't resist the urge to turn and look over his shoulder. Allison withdrew from her work and flashed a signal up to Derek. John followed the rope from his hands to the collar of one of the German shepherd's Allison had been scratching earlier.
"Boy you must really rub her the wrong way,"
whispered a voice from somewhere over John's right shoulder. Before he could turn to see who had spoken he felt a small hand roughly push him forward to catch up to the already moving squad. If he had eyes in the back of his head, John would have seen an all too familiar glare from an all too familiar face boring into the back of his skull.
The squad moved quickly out of the basement of the ruined Zeira Corps headquarters and onto the decimated streets of Los Angeles. John luckily remembered not to look shocked at his surroundings, instead keeping his head down and his knees bent, making himself as small a target as possible with his arms bound behind him. The dog currently attached to those arms trotted along at his side with its mouth open and tongue lolling out happily. John instinctively reached out to scratch behind his ears and nearly veered into an exposed piece of rebar jutting from a pile of rubble that was once one of the cities numerous mid-rise office buildings.
Come on John, get it together.
No one reacted to his stumble. John had the sudden realization that he should probably try to appear in worse shape than he really was, having most likely eaten more in the last two days than these people had in a week. What's more, they obviously had the benefit of working together, whereas he needed to appear to have been on his own for some time. Unfortunately that was as far as John got into thinking up a cover story, as his musings resulted in him tripping over one of the numerous pieces of debris littering the road the squad was trying to navigate. There was a searing pain in his right arm as he was hauled back to his feet by a very irritated looking Allison. His guard dog, unfortunately for John, hadn't noticed his fall and kept trotting along, jolting him off-balance again as the slack was taken out of the rope. For the second time in just a few short moments John felt those two small, familiar, hands hauling him roughly to his feet. John would have been impressed had he not been so used to the strength normally exhibited by those hands. He still hadn't gotten the hang of differentiating between Allison and Cameron, although he was certainly familiar with the annoyed look currently gracing her features. It was a testament to the condition they expected out of the stragglers they came across that his falls garnered no attention from any other member of the squad.
They continued for what felt like hours, moving from ruin to ruin, cover to cover, only crossing the open street when deemed absolutely necessary. The only sound was the monotonous thud of their boots hitting the ground, or a grunt from John as he hit the ground. He tried his best to plant his bare feet carefully, but they still ended up with enough cuts and scrapes to bring out a wince with every step.
John's mind insisted on straying from the littered path at his feet, but apparently couldn't decide what to focus on. The look on his mothers face as she had backed away from him. He still didn't know who had left who behind. It didn't matter. Everywhere he looked John was reminded they had both failed. His failures peppered his thoughts seemingly at random, and the list of the people he'd lost became a constant litany in his mind. Charley because he had felt safe, Derek because he sent him off alone, Riley because he lost sight of who he was, Cameron because he couldn't stand the thought of losing his mother, and his mother because he couldn't stand the thought of losing Cameron. He had been arrogant and rash in his decisions. He had tried so hard to be John Baum, and it cost him everything that made being John Connor bearable.
The squad halted without warning on a silent command from Derek, sending John stumbling into the back of the soldier in front of him, and effectively halting his self loathing.
Derek turned and called back quietly,
"Allison I need you up here with the canaries."
John felt his arms being tugged forward as Allison led him and her dogs to the front of the line,
"Stay tight on my six Young."
As they moved up the line John caught sight of the raised hatch Derek had apparently just cleared of debris. The hinges complained loudly as he lifted the metal grate and peered down the hatch.
"We'll have to carry the dogs, it's too far to jump."
John felt the restraints on his wrist loosen suddenly.
"Start climbing."
Allison's tone left no room for argument and his attempt to wring some feeling back into his fingers earned him a prod in the back with a rifle.
When did she get that? John wasn't given a chance to ask. He had barely gotten started when she ordered him to halt.
"Hold still, look down."
John bit off a smart retort and did as he was told. Allison clicked her tongue and John heard one of the dogs jump on the hatch a moment before he felt it position itself over his neck.
"Drop him and it's your life, he's worth ten of you."
The corners of John's mouth twitched up involuntarily at the sound of such clipped instructions. The crushing guilt he felt immediately after threatened to cost him his grip.
As he made his way down he heard another pair of feet start on the ladder above him. He recognized the clicking that apparently told the dogs to 'hop on' as Allison began her descent. It wasn't long before John's blood deprived hands started to ache. The added weight of the German shepherd on his neck only added to his aches. Luckily it wasn't long after he heard a thud as Derek reached the base of the ladder. Another dozen or so rungs and he felt solid ground beneath his feet.
"Kneel down and he'll jump off."
Apparently Allison had heard the end of his climb. John did as he was told and the dog dismounted gently.
"They're really well trained, is that your doing?"
John was desperately trying to get back on the right foot with Allison Young.
"Quiet!"
Derek's sharp tone took him by surprise, his continued whisper sent chills down John's spine.
"We don't know shit about this tunnel, could be crawling with metal so keep quiet."
No sooner had Allison's own rider dismounted than John felt his hands being thrust behind his back to be restrained. The forgotten cut on his shoulder flared in protest, he gasped before he could help himself.
"Leave them free Young, he won't get anywhere down here if he takes off anyway."
John took it as a good sign that Allison didn't even protest. He hazarded a look at his injured arm. There was a long gash starting near his shoulder. He didn't know where it ended but his borrowed jacket was soaked in blood to his elbow. As he looked up from his arm he caught site of Allison slinging a rifle from around her neck. It was instantly clear she wasn't used to carrying it. The butt of the rifle sat low on her shoulder and she held the stock too far down the barrel. He caught her eyes as she adjusted the leashes in her lead hand. It may have been the darkness but he was pretty sure she didn't glare at him.
His feet screamed in protest as he moved forward behind his advancing uncle. Apparently he wasn't following close enough, earning him a surprisingly gentle push from his guardian. John crept forward until he had to actively avoid stepping on Derek's heals.
Just as they left the portion of the tunnel visible from the light pouring into the open hatch both dogs froze.
"Derek."
John had never seen someone freeze as fast as Derek did at Allison's voice. He felt a small hand grip his jacket and start pulling him backwards. Derek was slowly inching back into the light in front of him, barely avoiding stepping on his toes. The darkness was no place to engage an enemy. Even if they were human they had the advantage of being adjusted to the lack of light.
They had barely made it a foot back before both dogs began barking frantically.
"Back!"
Both Derek and Allison shouted at the same time. John heard the familiar sound of metal legs charging across concrete. His training kicked in instantly.
Hold. You can't outrun it and it's too far out to change course now.
His legs screamed at him to leap out of the way, but he knew the terminator was far enough back to change course and intercept him. It never crossed his mind that it might choose to take on one of its armed opponents instead, a lifetime of experience telling him the machines would always target him above others.
Derek opened fire towards the sound of footsteps. John caught a glimpse of exposed endoskeleton as the bolt of blue plasma raced past its target. Derek adjusted and fired again, unfortunately the terminator had also adjusted and his second shot fared no better. Whatever internal clock years of fighting the machines had built into John's head hit zero and he pushed himself into a roll just as the charging machine came into the light. Apparently unarmed, it merely swatted Derek aside, barely slowing as it continued to advance towards its second armed opponent. With Derek out of commission it was Allison's turn to engage. Her shot went wide as she smartly dove out of the way, following the same thought process John had. She was quick, agile, there was a reason she had survived so long.
The machines momentum carried it far enough down the tunnel for John to take his eyes off it and glance over his surroundings. They couldn't play cat and mouse forever and he didn't like the odds of Allison landing a hit before the terminator snapped both of their necks.
His brain was in overdrive. The terminator was definitely a humanoid model, large upper body but a slow reaction time. A deep groan off to his left told him Derek was still conscious. That was good. This model wasn't quite up to John's usual standards, definitely not 800 series.
As his adrenaline fueled brain analyzed his enemy his eyes found something he hadn't dared hoped for; a weapon. Knowing he was pushing his luck not having a visual on his target for so long, John dove forward, grabbing the rifle and rolling on his side just as he heard Allison fire another shot. Judging from the steady thud of the still functioning machine he guessed it was another miss.
John felt the weight of the rifle as he pulled it to his shoulder; it was strange, off-balance. The butt was too light, the trigger too far out, everything about it felt off.
Despite the situation John was acutely aware of his breathing, which was surprisingly steady. He raised his weapon, sighted the terminator's waist, and fired. His shot just missed to the left. Had the machine been able to feel it would have felt its right hip burn as the bolt of plasma raced by, a mere inch from its target. John shifted unphased into a roll as the terminator again raced by its target.
The sights were off. John recalled the sight picture from his previous shot; he'd been dead on. He took advantage of the extra time afforded him by the machines arrogant charge past him and crawled further into the light, coming to a kneeling position just as it came back into view. He heard Allison shout, his brain barely registering the disturbance. He had missed his window to dodge the machine. Undeterred, John lined up his second shot, adjusted for the sight error, and fired. His shot obliterated the right hip of the machine, detaching its leg. Its momentum carried the main body over the crouching John Connor. The last thing he felt before the world went black was a sharp pain over his right eye and the crack of the back of his head impacting the concrete.
Well that's how we'll start! Thought I'd try easing into this writing thing. Let me know what you think!
