Author's Note: So, I was totally going to wait on posting this, until I had the storyline more planned out. Then Wheresmyluce overloaded me with Charley/Sarah goodness, using her kickass video skills to showcase my fic. That, plus I realized that for me, planning equals procrastinating. I work better with the promise of reviews and the specter of an incomplete fic hanging over my head.
Before anyone asks, no, this will not be Jameron. I like John, I like Cameron, and I don't totally despise the pairing. However, I can't write it. Yeah, it's against canon. So is Charley being alive. So, to avoid what happened last time, please refrain from criticizing lack of Jameron in a non-Jameron fic. John will be here, Cameron will be here, Jameron will not. If you can't stomach that, I won't be offended if you exit stage right before the show starts.
Summary sucks, I know that. At some point, I'll make it slightly less sucky. If you've read the first one (and you sort of need to, to get this), then you know what to expect. Character stuff with occasional sprinkles of plot, and my usual combo of angst mixed with everything else. The last one was floating around in my head for the better part of a year before I finally wrote it, hence the quick updates. This, as I said, not so planned out. I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes, and I hope you guys enjoy the ride. Remember, feedback makes the line for the ride go faster, so drop some on your way out.
Disclaimer: Really? Do I really need to point out that they aren't mine?
Who's gonna pick you up?
Who's gonna bend your rules?
Who's gonna be your prop?
Who's gonna play your fool?
Nobody know just how it feels today
Nobody sees how our hearts break
Who's gonna watch your back?
Who's gonna reel you in?
Who'll make surprise attacks?
Who's gonna be there at the end?
Nobody knows just how it feels today
Nobody sees how our hearts break
Who's gonna bring you round?
Who's gonna let you sleep?
Who's gonna break your frown?
Who's gonna fall down at your feet?
Nobody know just how it feels today
Nobody sees how our hearts break
-Powderfinger, Nobody Sees
They met in an abandoned warehouse, halfway between the city, and the desert that'd been home for the last three months. Savannah had wanted to accompany them, but that hadn't happened. She stayed with Ellison at the house, while Sarah went to get her son. There'd been no question that Charley would go too. He wasn't John's father, but he was close enough for that fact not to matter very much.
The first thing Sarah's eyes truly focused on was Cameron. Last time she saw that face, it'd been damaged down to the endoskeleton, melting in a bath of thermite. And then John stepped out from behind a row of metal shelves, and Sarah forgot to care about the cyborg. She left Charley behind, moved past Cameron as if she wasn't there, and threw her arms around her son.
"Mom," he said, voice muffled against her jacket. The leather was a familiar scent. Since childhood, John associated it with his mother, with some approximation of safety. Breathing deeply to keep himself from crying all over her favorite coat, John clutched at her with a desperation he couldn't control. He couldn't remember the last time he'd needed to hold her this badly. After he and the other machine broke her out of Pescadero? After the man who wasn't Sarkissian held a gun to his head? After Riley died and he fell asleep in his mother's lap? John didn't know. All he knew was that her arms were around him now, and he needed them to stay that way.
Sarah cried noiselessly, wetting her son's neck with a few tears that wouldn't follow her directions and go away. She hadn't seen her boy in six months, had resigned herself to the fact that she'd never see him again. He was here now, shaking in her arms. Shaking, but not crying, not that she could tell. Sarah crushed him against her, running her fingers through his hair. It was short, like when he left, but it was also greasy under her fingers. Sarah didn't care. Swallowing a sob, she kissed his cheek, and didn't care about the layer of grime she found there.
After long moments of being a five-year-old boy again, wanting nothing more than his mother's touch, John began to regain some form of control. He smelled like tunnel filth and he was infecting her with it. He thought he smelled like blood too, but since she hadn't commented, John assumed that that part was in his head. He always smelled blood now, whether it was old or new.
"It's okay, Mom," he said, making a go at reassurance. He should let go of her, but he didn't want to. He didn't think she'd let him.
John, comforting her. That wasn't usually how the game worked. He sounded the same, but not completely. He sounded like he may've gotten used to offering comfort, since she'd seen him last. With a long, fortifying breath, Sarah pulled back from the embrace, irritated by the need to blink back more tears and wipe away the ones that had escaped. Eyes clear, she studied him hard, taking in every detail. John looked the same, but different. Reaching up, Sarah mapped a series of small scars on his face, little imperfections that, probably, no one else would notice. Except for Cameron, with her databases and her perfect recall. And Charley. Charley would probably notice.
Knowing that mother and son needed their time, Charley had hung back when Sarah broke away from him. Cameron had done the same. And now Cameron was regarding him with a kind of curious detachment that made Charley even more eager to join the other two.
"Charley Dixon."
"Scary cyborg." It was almost a question. He'd helped Sarah burn this thing, shortly after John left. He'd gotten used to his lover polishing shotguns at the breakfast table. He'd gotten used to the fact that eight years for him hadn't been eight years for her. Firearms and time travel, he was pretty okay with. The machines, this machine, looking pretty as a picture after they'd melted her to slag, Charley was still working on that.
Cameron tilted her head minutely. "Very scary cyborg."
So much for any doubts that it was her. Still, Charley fought the image of the machine's flesh melting off while Sarah watched dispassionately. "We…we burned you."
Cameron seemed to consider that for a moment. "Thank you."
"Uh-huh," Charley replied, nodding slowly.
"You called me a cyborg."
"Uh-huh," Charley repeated, fighting off a familiar unease that'd only gotten worse since the last time he saw this machine functioning. That'd been right after she crossed a wire somewhere and nearly killed John and Sarah. Shortly after that, one of her cyborg pals had kidnapped his wife. "You prefer robot now?"
"No. Cyborg is the correct term. Thank you for using it."
"No problem."
Meanwhile, Sarah had finally let her son go, but she couldn't fight the compulsion to touch him. Hair, face, arms, her hands moved of their own volition. John didn't squirm. In fact, he leaned into whatever contact she gave, sucking it in. Sarah couldn't remember the last time he'd done that.
"You're too thin." Her first words to her son in half a year, not counting the phone call from earlier. Not exactly what she'd meant to say, but there they were.
John chuckled, smiling fully for the first time in…he didn't know how long. Mom in full-out 'mom' mode. It used to irritate him, it used to amuse him. Jesus he'd missed it. "Not really. Cameron, the people we stole clothes from…" John shrugged.
He did look ridiculous. The jeans were huge on him, and the shirt… The shirt hung like one of Charley's shirts, when Sarah decided to skip laundry and steal herself a sleep garment. Still, even accounting for the oversized clothing…
"Mom, I'm okay." It wasn't a lie, not exactly. Ignoring any worries about his physical state right now, John pulled her into another hug. "I love you."
She was not going to cry again. She was not. "How long?"
The response was slow in coming, and John's voice was different when he gave it. "Too long." Swallowing hard, John pulled back from the hug to study his mother. "The date. Is it really…?" He knew already, but couldn't quite accept it.
"Six months. For me, it was six months."
Closing his eyes tight, John embraced her again. "I'm sorry. I tried…I tried to set it so we'd be back right away."
"John-"
"I'm sorry."
Was he apologizing for coming back when he did? For leaving? For things that happened before he left? Sarah had no idea.
"You look better. Then when I left," John said this after breaking the second embrace. Off his mother's raised eyebrow, he quickly added to the statement. "Healthy, Mom. You look…" He might be too thin now, but his mother had been skin and bones when he left. John hated himself for not noticing. For being so preoccupied with his own issues that it took Cameron for him to realize that his mom was wasting away. A sudden wave of nausea and panic had his eyes widening. "You are…you're not-"
"I'm okay. I'm good." She couldn't ask if she'd been that way where he'd come back from. John's face told her that maybe she shouldn't ask. But there were other things, other questions. "John-"
"Mom," he interrupted, knowing from her tone that they were heading for rough territory. "I can't yet. Please."
God he sounded young. Not in the angry, petulant way that she'd gotten used to though. "We'll have to talk, John." They hadn't before, not nearly enough. Much as she hated to admit it, Sherman the shrink had been right.
"Mom…it's gone."
"What is?"
"The timeline, the…where I was…everything that happened there, it won't…it's gone."
Time travel gave her a headache. The multiple timeline business made her want to put a gun to her head. Still, Sarah thought she knew what he was saying. "We still need to talk," she said gently.
"I know," John replied, making sure she'd understand that he meant it. "Just…not yet. Please not yet."
"All right," Sarah said, partly to reassure him, partly because she was still battling an urge to simply hold him and keep holding him until she convinced herself he was there. She couldn't handle the talk yet either. "You're home," she assured him, echoing his words on the phone. "You're home now. There's time."
Shoulders sagging in relief, John tried for an easy smile. "You think we can make time for your pancakes? I've been craving those for a long time."
Despite her hesitance to tackle the big stuff now, Sarah fought her desire to press for details on what 'a long time' meant. Aside from a few scars and the weight loss, he looked almost the same. But there were changes in his eyes, the set of his jaw, things that weren't quite physical. Sarah wondered how different she looked, after the terminator showed up, but before she started training, before she started showing.
"I think pancakes are doable," she said, smiling as Charley came up next to her. She directed her next comment at him rather than her son. "You mind putting off your bowling thing until tomorrow?"
"Bowling?" John asked. He tried keeping his tone light, fighting the fresh wave of emotion that came with Charley's approach.
"Bouillabaisse," Charley explained.
"That's what I said," Sarah told him. John was smiling, even if it was strained, so she smiled too. It was easier to do that when Charley brushed his fingers against hers.
"No," he said, briefly squeezing her hand before pulling away. "That's not what you said."
"How about explaining to me what you said."
"It's French. Fish soup. If you want pancakes-"
"No. I do, but…" He was starving, despite what he'd told his mother. He wanted pancakes and cheeseburgers and pizza…even this fish soup was sounding good.
Charley hadn't seen John in a long time, much longer than Sarah. And still, he could read the boy's thoughts with a great deal of accuracy. "We'll make the pancakes an appetizer for the soup."
"You don't need to do that."
Charley shrugged. Up close, he saw what Sarah had, how much weight the boy had lost. "Doing it anyway. Pancakes and seafood."
John's smile became a grin. "Two great tastes that taste great together?"
"Guess we'll find out, won't we?"
Nodding, John felt his control slipping. "Charley," he said, a lump in his throat.
John took half a step forward, then stopped. Without thought, Charley pulled the boy into a one-armed hug that quickly became a full-on embrace. He hadn't been exaggerating when he told Ellison that John was like a son. It was a long moment before he could muster the control needed to speak. "Hey Johnny. Welcome back."
He was trying to be strong, but that almost broke him. Choking back a noise he didn't want them to hear, John clung to Charley in much the same way he had with his mother. His shoulders started to shake again.
"You're home," Charley murmured, because he didn't know what else to say. He didn't know what else to do either, except hold John more tightly. "You're home."
John nodded against Charley's shoulder. He wasn't crying, but he couldn't stop the shaking. And, even though he wanted to, he couldn't stop himself from talking either. "I know," he replied, voice raw with emotion. "You said…you promised…"
John trailed off and Charley didn't push. For now, it was enough to just be here.. The rest, the rest could wait.
She was not going to cry again. She. Was not. Going to cry again. Using her sleeve as a tissue, Sarah got rid of a few more renegade tears before turning away. She'd had her moment with John, Charley deserved his. And she was not, was not, going to cry in front of him and John. There'd been enough crying in the last six months.
Cameron stood where she'd been standing since they came in. Sarah approached cautiously. Six months ago, she'd been ready to burn the cyborg, even before Zeira Corp. She'd been ready to leave her in the dust, along with Derek. The only thing that stopped her was the lead on Savannah, the need for backup. When she finally had burned the metal, there'd been no regrets. Aside from the fact that destroying Cameron meant accepting that John wouldn't be coming back, there'd been no regrets. Now though…now she'd gone half a year without a terminator at her back. Beyond the obvious benefits of having a machine on their side…Sarah had missed her. Not terribly, not all the time, but Cameron had been a part of the dysfunctional family Sarah had tried to maintain. With John and the machine gone, Sarah had constructed a new, dysfunctional family, but occasionally, when Savannah would ask question after question during her schooling, or during their training sessions, Sarah would be reminded of Cameron. Of the quirks, of the endless questions about what humans did or didn't do. And, in those moments, with time and loneliness obscuring some of the anger, Sarah had missed her. Desperate times, desperate measures.
"Sarah," Cameron greeted.
"Robo-Barbie."
"Cybor-"
"I know."
"We're back."
"I noticed," Sarah replied. Chip was obviously the same, but was it still damaged, or had John managed to do something about that?
"You and Charley Dixon destroyed my original endoskeleton."
Sarah nodded, a memory popping into her head. Cameron, after she went bad, telling Sarah what to do if it ever happened again. "Turned you to vapor."
Cameron tilted her head a little. "Thank you."
"Anytime. So, you want to explain this to me?" she asked, gesturing towards Cameron's undamaged body.
"Future-John programmed me to be unique. However, Skynet created me, my model."
"And Skynet makes good use of Henry Ford's business model," Sarah finished, confirming what she'd already guessed. She'd even said it to Charley, before they burned the endo. Always another body. Always more of them. "It's…I'm glad you're back, both of you."
She was losing her mind. She was on an emotional high from John's return, and it was causing her mind to malfunction. Sarah was still pissed at the machine for leaving in the first place, for causing John to leave. But time scars all wounds, and at this precise moment, that particular wound didn't ache as much as it should. It would, later, once Sarah's brain came back to full power.
"Does that mean you're glad to see me?"
Sarah shrugged as she tried not to gag. "It means something."
"Ditto," Cameron replied, after a moment's consideration.
"What?"
"Your behavior implies that you are glad to see me. Ditto."
"Ditto?" Sarah repeated, a bemused smile curving her lips.
"Ditto. It means-"
"I know what it means."
"Oh. Burning the body was a tactically sound decision."
"I do my best."
Cameron's eyes roamed, moving away from Sarah's face. "Charley Dixon is not wearing his wedding ring."
Glancing over her shoulder, Sarah watched John and Charley engage in muffled conversation. When she turned back to the machine, her eyes were narrowed. "No, he's not."
"He answered your cell phone."
"Yeah, he did."
"He's been residing with you."
The anger was back, building. Sarah saw the way the machine observed Charley, heard something in a voice that should've been monotonous. "We got reacquainted after you and my son took off."
"I took off. John was not supposed to follow."
"He did," Sarah retorted. A different anger was building now, the anger of knowing that John had chosen a machine over his future, his destiny. Over her.
"You let him. You shouldn't have done that."
So much for missing the metal. "Won't happen again. I learn from my mistakes."
"Do you? Your relationship with Charley Dixon brought danger into his life."
"I know," Sarah said, speaking through gritted teeth.
Cameron tilted her head, processing the response. "That's what John said, about his relationship with Riley. Riley's dead now."
"I know that, too."
"Michelle Dixon is also dead. Your attempt to save her was-"
"Was what, a tactical error? I got that already. And I get that you would've left her to die out there."
"She did die out there. She's dead now, and your behavior indicates that you've resumed your relationship with Charley Dixon."
"Charley's not your concern. We've been over this."
"He's your concern though. You've made questionable decisions, because of your concern for him. John will be concerned as well."
"John loves Charley."
"Yes. Your behavior indicates that you do as well. John's love for Charley could be dangerous. So could yours."
"Why don't you let me worry about that." Sarah's voice was low, and her hand was close to her waist. Her gun.
"Charley Dixon is not an asset to the mission, he's not a soldier."
"Neither was I. Once."
"He's a liability. You bring danger into his life, and your concern for him could endanger yours. And John's."
Sarah closed her eyes for half a second, fighting the machine's words. When she opened them again, they were as cold as her voice. "Charley's off limits. Get that through your metal skull, your processors, whatever. My relationship with him is none of your fucking business. You told me you'd leave him alone."
"I did."
"And you've also lied. About a lot of things."
"Yes. I've also left Charley Dixon alone."
"Good. Keep it that way. I burned you once, I have no problem doing it again. Understood?"
"Understood."
Sarah turned on her heel just as John and Charley were moving towards them. Slightly ahead, John reached her first, frowning at the look on his mother's face. "Mom?"
"I'm fine. Let's get out of here."
John looked between Cameron and his mother, eyes narrowing as they reached the machine. "What did you say to her?"
"John."
"Nothing," Cameron replied. "Just making conversation."
"Mom-"
"John. We're going." Sarah took a breath, struggling to soften her tone. "Let's get you home."
She forced John and Cameron to walk ahead, ignoring the looks from her son. Charley's worried expression was harder to shrug off.
"Hey," he said, pushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. "You okay?"
Cameron glanced back at her. Sarah met the cyborg's gaze for half a second before slipping her hand into Charley's, making sure that Cameron would see. "I'm good," she replied, pulling until he walked with her and tightening her grip on his hand. "John's here, you're here, I'm good."
It was bullshit and Charley knew it, and Sarah knew that he knew it. He always knew when she was lying, even when he chose not to call her on it. For now, he chose not to do that, and Sarah loved him for it.
Savannah and Ellison were in the living room when they got home. Savannah stared at Cameron with wide eyes, while Sarah glared a warning at the machine.
"You…you were in the garage." Savannah remembered quite vividly. Aunt Sarah had told her more about the machines, and she'd used Cameron's body to show her about them. "You were at my house, then you got hurt. Then you were in the garage."
"Yes. I'm not in the garage anymore."
"Why don't you do a perimeter check?" John suggested, weary of the tension that'd been there since they left the warehouse, that'd continued when they made a quick stop for clothes. "You've never been here before, might as well get used to the place."
"I will establish a patrol pattern."
"Great," Charley replied, in a voice that didn't match his words. The machine made him incredibly uneasy, and that was before Sarah started lying to him about what it had done or said.
Once Cameron was gone, John turned his attention to Savannah, dropping to one knee and offering a strained smile. "Hi. You uh-"
Savannah guessed what he would say; they'd had this conversation before. "You're John. Aunt Sarah and Uncle Charley missed you a lot."
John swallowed hard, looking at the people in question as he spoke. "I missed them a lot too." Returning his eyes to Savannah, "You…you look different than the last time I saw you."
Savannah frowned, unsure what to make of the words, or the look on John's face. "My hair's a little longer. I wanted to get a mohawk, but Aunt Sarah won't let me."
John laughed in a way he didn't think himself capable of. Sometimes it felt like he'd forgotten how laughter worked. "Yeah, she can be tough. I think I had that same argument with her once."
"Aren't you the comedian," Sarah commented. Her voice was dry, but she smiled as she watched her children interact. Then she replayed that thought, and the smile disappeared. When had Savannah become hers? Sarah didn't know. It wasn't a conscious thing; she had no recollection of thinking that way before, of making that choice. She'd made mistakes with John. She'd tried, but she'd made mistakes. And what right did she have to think as she did? She was Aunt Sarah, Savannah wasn't-
"You need a bath," the redhead declared. She'd held off as long as she could, but the dirt…and the smell.
"Savannah," Charley began, but John cut him off, still smiling.
"You going to call her a liar?" he asked. To Savannah, "I do need a shower. Or two. Or twenty."
"Don't use all the hot water," Savannah advised earnestly. "Aunt Sarah got really mad last time Uncle James did that."
"Savannah has a way of understating things," said James, rising from the couch and gesturing for Savannah to follow him. "How about we help get dinner started?"
"Pancakes!" Savannah exclaimed, eyes lighting up. The breakfast-for-dinner thing still excited her, and she eagerly followed Uncle James.
"Pancakes and Bouillabaisse," Charley pointed out.
Savannah made a face. "You're still making the bowling stuff?"
Sarah and John snorted back laughs, which Charley determinedly ignored. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, kid."
As Savannah and James bustled around in the kitchen, Sarah watched her son, watched the look on his face while he watched Savannah. "You knew her," Sarah said, voice barely audible. "Didn't you?"
John shut his eyes again. He was off the floor, facing Charley and his mother. "I knew her."
Sarah released a harsh breath, feeling Charley's hand on her back. "She survives then."
John met his mother's gaze, even though it was difficult. "She survives."
The way he said it had Sarah on edge, her need to know overriding her decision to wait John out. "John? What happened…happens?" Fucking time travel was going to be the death of her.
"It's gone, Mom. I told you. What happened there…it won't happen anymore."
"Johnny-"
He couldn't take this. Not yet. "Where I was, she survived the bombs. She…she asked me to say hi to her parents."
"Her parents. The father's dead and Weaver-"
John pressed a kiss to his mother's forehead, smiling at how the simple things could be so complicated for her. "She wasn't talking about Weaver. Or her father." John waited just long enough to see the looks on Charley and his mom's faces, then he headed off in search of a bathroom.
John took a shower. A long one. Eventually, Charley wound up knocking on the bathroom door.
"Yeah?"
John's voice came muffled through the wood. "Dinner's ready, Johnny."
"Thanks. Out in a minute."
The tone of his voice was also muffled, but Charley was an expert at knowing when a Connor was hiding things from him. "You okay in there?"
"Fine."
"John."
"What?"
"It's me."
There was a pause. "Door's not locked."
Charley entered the bathroom to find John wearing jeans and nothing else. His skin was red, but that wasn't what Charley focused on. He was looking at the scars, all over John's torso. They ranged in size, and the full collection didn't seem as large as Sarah's, but still. Back, shoulders. John was by the sink, standing in front of the mirror, and Charley could see that his chest was marred in a similar fashion.
"I can't get clean," John said. He'd practically scalded himself, and all the gunk had gone down the drain, but he didn't feel cleansed.
"Oh John…" Charley shut the door behind him before crossing to the boy. He was thin. There was muscle there, but John was way too thin. Like Sarah, for those first three months after he left.
"I can't. I tried."
"John," Charley repeated, touching the boy's shoulder.
"I tried to set it so I'd be back right away. So Mom wouldn't…"
"It's okay, Johnny."
John gripped the sink with white knuckles, head down. "Derek was there. So was my dad."
Charley took his hand away when John shrugged it off. There was a new shirt sitting on the toilet lid, and John slipped into it before turning to Charley again. "Don't tell Mom," he said, gesturing vaguely at his upper body.
"You honestly think those would matter to her?"
"No. They matter to me though."
"Your mom doesn't do well with secrets, Johnny."
"That's not what I'm asking. I'll tell her. Just…"
"Not now."
"Not now."
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Sarah didn't wait for an invitation, reminding Charley of all the times she showed up unannounced back at the lighthouse. "Dinner's getting cold," she said, voice gentle as she looked at her son.
John didn't speak immediately. He'd stopped clenching the sink, but everything about him was tense, and his eyes were panicked as he met those of his mother. "I tried."
"You tried what?" Sarah asked, stepping past Charley to get to John.
"To fix it. To save them."
"Who?"
"Everyone. Derek. Dad."
Sarah felt like she'd taken a sledgehammer to the gut. "Kyle was there?"
"Kyle…was everything you ever told me. And he was a hero. Like always. And he died for me. Like always. Like everybody always does."
The tears came, hard and fast. Sarah pulled John against her, and he didn't fight it, as she'd expected him to. The crying was almost silent, but it was still happening. "Shhh, John. It's not your fault. Whatever happened there, it's not your fault."
"You're wrong. You don't know."
"So tell me then."
"Nothing much to tell. They died. Like always. Kyle died. Like always."
John was thin, but he was also leaning almost all his weight on her. Sarah backed up and his hold tightened convulsively. "Hey. I'm here. You're home. I've got you, John."
Except she didn't. He was shaking uncontrollably and she couldn't get her balance, not with how he was leaning on her. And then Charley was there, and he guided both of them and said comforting things to John, and then Sarah was on the floor, back against the tub, John in her arms.
Charley stayed a few minutes, crouched down in front of them. But John wasn't hearing him. Just like Sarah hadn't heard him when she cried in his arms after they burned the machine.
Charley kept Savannah occupied while Sarah offered a comfort he'd never be able to give. He came back every so often, having a quick and silent conversation with his ex-fiancé before shutting the door again. John didn't seem aware of these interruptions.
The fourth time he came in, John was asleep, and Sarah was essentially trapped. Ignoring her warning looks, Charley crouched down again and woke John as gently as possible. The boy muttered a drowsy protest as Charley helped him to his feet.
"You're not sleeping in here. Savannah's usually half-asleep when she comes in to brush her teeth. She'll use you as a rug."
They got John set up in Ellison's room. The other man had readily agreed to a temporary return to his old sleeping arrangements. John crashed again as soon as he hit the bed, still wearing his day clothes. It wasn't that late, but John was out like a light. He didn't seem to notice when Sarah hung back to do the creepy, staring-while-he-slept thing.
After she'd done that for awhile, assuring herself that John wouldn't disappear again, Sarah left his room, just as Cameron walked past. She'd heard the machine's treads a few minutes ago, but had chosen to ignore them.
"John is distressed."
"John's sleeping."
"He's also distressed."
"Give the girl a prize. Start checking out real estate prices, this place is too small for all of us." If she was going to live with Cameron again, Sarah at least wanted a modicum of breathing room.
"It is a buyer's market," Cameron observed. "Purchasing a house at this time is a good strategy."
"And now I can sleep tonight, knowing you approve."
Cameron was blocking the way to Sarah's bedroom. After a long glare, the machine moved aside, and Sarah went past her, resisting the urge to slam the door only because of John sleeping in one room, Savannah in the other. She'd thought of pressing the machine for details. About Weaver, John Henry, whatever the fuck had been going on. Her need to get away from Cameron outweighed her need to know, and Sarah wasn't sure she trusted any answers the metal might give.
Weary beyond description, Sarah sat down at the edge of the bed, closing her eyes. So much for happy homecomings. Charley came in a few minutes later, bearing the leftovers of a dinner that neither Connor had taken part in.
"Bowling thing, a' la Dixon," he proclaimed, setting a bowl of soup on the dresser, next to one of Sarah's spare pistols.
"Thanks, not hungry."
"You're shattering my feelings, you know that, right?"
With the barest hint of a smile, Sarah walked over to him, an expectant look on her face as she studied the soup.
"Forget how to use a spoon?" he asked, his own lips curved.
"You have no idea how tired I am right now."
"I've got some idea." Spoon in hand, Charley blew on it lightly before bringing it to her mouth. Sarah did the thing she sometimes did with her tongue and her lips, and despite his own exhaustion, something in the caveman part of Charley's brain lit up. She did it to torture him, that was the only explanation.
"It's good,' Sarah pronounced. "John would've liked it."
"He'll eat tomorrow," Charley said, raising the spoon again. "Don't ever say my restaurant isn't full service."
"You start servicing someone else like this, the three of us will need to have a conversation," Sarah replied, casually running her hand over the pistol next to her dinner.
"Is that your version of subtle hinting?"
Sarah didn't reply. Cameron's steps were outside again, as she resumed the old routine of pacing the house, searching for threats. Sarah tried and failed at keeping Cameron's words out of her head.
"You going to tell me the truth yet?"
"About what?"
"About how you're doing."
"Told you, I'm tired."
"Besides that."
Charley was pleasantly surprised when Sarah slipped her arms around his neck, pressing their lips together. The kiss was slow, deep, and then it was multiple kisses. Sarah broke off just long enough to keep him from asphyxiating, then she came back. This became a pattern, until finally Charley broke away, putting his fingers against her lips.
"You're trying to distract me," he stated. It was working. When she wanted to, when she kissed him like that, Sarah had the ability to short-circuit his entire brain.
"I'm trying to distract myself," she corrected, darting her tongue against his fingers and smirking at the reaction she got. "You just happen to be here."
"Your distractions are going to kill me one day," he muttered, kissing her quickly and resting his forehead against hers.
That was too accurate. Cameron was too accurate. John had muttered something into Charley's shoulder at the warehouse, but Sarah hadn't heard it clearly. Derek, Kyle, Savannah. She knew John hadn't really told her anything yet, but he also hadn't mentioned Charley being there.
"Hey."
"Hmmm?"
"Love you."
Charley frowned, pulling back to see her face. "Feeling's mutual. You're worrying me."
"Is that a new experience for you?"
"More than usual."
Sarah hugged him to get out of looking at him. "Tell me this is going to get better."
"It will. He will."
"You mean that, or are you saying it because I asked you to?'
"Does it have to be one or the other? He's home, he's with us now. We'll…we'll make him okay."
Sarah dropped a kiss to the side of his neck. "You said he was coming back." He'd told her that, in the garage, after they burned Cameron. He'd believed it, when she hadn't.
"I didn't think you heard me," he said, stroking through dark hair. She'd been so far-gone, the closest he'd ever seen to total breakdown.
"I always hear you," Sarah replied, lips close to his ear. "Don't always listen, but I always hear you."
When she wasn't threatening to shoot him or tear his arm out, Sarah had a real knack for words. "It's going to be okay," he told her, pulling back enough to kiss her again.
"Hope so."
"It will. I was right about John, wasn't I?"
Sarah smiled, lips grazing across his chin. "You were right about John."
"There you go. I never lie to you."
He never lied. Reese said that once, in her head. Reese had died, and, according to John, he'd died again. Like always. Like everyone. "Charley…"
Sarah didn't know what she would've said if Savannah hadn't screamed. It wasn't playful, like when Charley chased or tickled her. It was loud and terrified and blood-curdling, and Sarah was pushing away from Charley and snatching her gun before her brain fully registered the sound.
She met John in the hallway, shoving him aside. Partly to keep him out of potential danger, mostly because she couldn't reach Savannah's room fast enough. John fell into Charley, and the hand that wasn't holding his own gun reached out to steady the boy. Sarah could feel Ellison and Cameron crowding into the hallway. Fucking house was too small. And too big. Sarah couldn't get to the kid fast enough.
She threw open Savannah's door and turned the light on in one motion. The girl was sitting up in bed, shaking. Not the nightmare shakes, the ones that occasionally still plagued her. This wasn't nightmares. There was no color in Savannah's face. Sarah thought of how scared the kid was after Kaliba showed up at the lighthouse. This was worse. Much, much worse.
"Don't. Don't let her…" Savannah's voice, barely there to begin with, trailed off to nothing.
Sarah checked the room, as she had already, as she knew the others must be doing. Empty, no sign of threats. Someone knocked into someone else, and Sarah got an elbow in the back. She crossed into the room and got halfway between doorway and bed before something flickered in her vision. And then the floor was shifting, and suddenly Catherine Weaver was there, standing close to Savannah, stroking up and down the child's arm. Savannah's whole body spasmed at the contact.
"Hello all. Good to see you again." To Savannah,"Hello, darling. I've missed you."