Author's Note: Hey all. Again, this is the result of too much time spent with my DVD's. That, and I miss Charley. I really, really miss Charley. Feedback of any kind would be very much appreciated, but if you don't leave a comment, I thank you for taking a gander at this anyway. I'm my own editor, so please forgive any grammatical errors.
Before, Charley had never given much thought to the idea of death. No, that wasn't true. He'd been a paramedic, he'd been paid to save lives. Sometimes, no matter how well he did his job, he didn't do it well enough. He wasn't a doctor; he hadn't developed the level of detachment that med school was supposed to drill into you. And while he tried not to dwell on the bad days, on the people who couldn't be saved, the bad days still stung.
John was ahead of him as they ran for the boat. The kid had been ready to move almost as soon as the siren blared. Sarah had drilled the running skill into him, and she'd done it well. Still, the main reason John was leading was because Charley had shoved the boy in front of him. John first, John had to be first.
Charley hadn't dwelled on the bad calls, but they still hurt. It hurt when John panicked and attacked him the night the kid had broken in. It'd hurt Charley to lie to Michelle about the injuries. Rough call, he'd said, guy on meth.
Charley never imagined he'd be the guy who lied to his wife.
"You all right?" Sarah asked. He'd come home a few minutes ago, but she'd been in the shower. Her hair was wet and she frowned at the look on his face.
Shaking his head, Charley smiled wanly, pulling her down so she was in his lap on the couch. She went willingly and he kissed her lips. "Fine, just a lousy day. That guy Tom Hansen, comes in every couple weeks?"
Sarah nodded. "Tips like crap. Wife's nice though, slips in extra while he starts the car. What happened?"
"Jackie's dead. Aneurysm."
"Shit," Sarah murmured.
"Yeah. Tom was with her when it happened. Doubt he'll be in for the lunch special anytime soon."
It was amazing really, when you thought about what the human body was capable of. It's ability to heal itself, it's ability to hide things. Jackie had been healthy as far as anyone knew. But the thing that killed her had always been there, waiting to do its work. Tom Hansen was now more than a guy with a stingy streak, he was a widower. At thirty-nine.
"I guess that beats my war story for the day, kid who puked up Bill's famous spaghetti," Sarah teased. Still, the concern was there as she stroked the back of his neck. "You want to talk?"
"No," Charley replied. He stared into her eyes for a moment that dragged on. She was opening her mouth to say something when John came into the living room and distracted them both.
"Comfortable, Mom?" John asked, eyes sweeping over his mother on Charley's lap.
"Very," Sarah responded lightly.
"Least one of us is," John replied. Still, there was a twinkle in his eye and he gave Charley a covertly significant look.
Charley smiled, gaze moving between Sarah and John several times. He'd talked to Johnny already, but hadn't done anything yet. Making a decision, he kissed Sarah's hairline before loosening his hold. She got the cue that he was okay, gently sliding to the couch.
"Hey, we're low on some things. John, you want to keep me company at the grocery store?"
John smirked and tried to hide it. "Cool, let me throw some shoes on."
He bolted before Sarah could question him, so she went to the only other option. "Cool?" she repeated. "Since when are groceries cool?"
Charley shrugged as he stood up, not looking at her because he refused to give himself away. "Kids these days. I think that girl Natalie got a cashier's job."
"There's a girl Natalie? He likes her?"
Charley retreated up the stairs, wagging a finger as he did. "Confidential. Guy talk and all that. I have to change. Anything special for dinner tonight?"
They'd bought groceries, but that was after they bought the ring. Then Sarah was gone and so was John, and eventually there was Michelle.
Charley never thought he'd be the guy who lied to his wife, or the guy who got ditched by his fugitive fiancé. Or the guy who was a widower. He was though. Before the age that Tom Hansen lost his wife, long before Hal Beasley, the old man from the diner who'd given Sarah the idea that he, Charley, would be able to take care of her.
"It's my fate, Charley."
"No, come here."
He'd pulled her into his arms then. The way he'd wanted to after John's uncle wasn't bleeding to death anymore. He'd wanted to hold her then and he knew she wanted the same but it didn't happen. Last night, after she put his hand on her breast and told him she was supposed to be dead already, he'd hugged her and she'd let him.
"It's my fate, there's nothing I can do."
He held her and buried a hand in her hair and it all fell into place. He'd known she was here for a reason, but couldn't figure what it was. At that point, he was almost beyond caring. He had nothing, certainly not enough energy to puzzle out what the hell she was doing there. She was touching the back of his neck in a familiar way. Not sexual, just like the way he rubbed her back and swayed them back and forth wasn't sexual.
Sarah pulled away from him after too short a time. Her eyes were bright, but she wasn't crying. "You understand now. That it isn't for me."
He understood. He remembered her promise that she wouldn't be here long. The layers of meaning were only now apparent. She wouldn't be here long. She hadn't said anything about John. "Yeah," he replied. "It's always for John, isn't it?"
"Always," she confirmed without the slightest hesitation.
"And you, you don't matter?"
"No." Again, no hesitation.
Charley felt a sudden pang of anger, the same anger that he struggled to control when he looked at her these days. Then he remembered that she'd allowed him to hold her, which said more than enough about where her head was. He lost the anger. "No fate but what we make? Those were just words?"
She glanced at the floor before answering him. "I thought it was over, thought we'd changed it. I was wrong."
Translation, they were just words, but she hadn't known that at the time. "Sarah…"
"Charley, I thought it was over. If I hadn't, you think I would've…?"
Accepted his invite for food that wasn't from the dinner? Moved in with him? Taken the ring? "Sarah-"
She put up a hand and put her back to him. Her arms crossed as if to ward off a chill. "John comes first, you always knew that. No one else does." She started to leave the room, then stopped. She didn't turn to look at him. "For what it's worth, I didn't want to leave you."
She'd said it before, during the crisis with John's uncle. John's uncle who she didn't trust anymore. He'd believed her then, he believed her now. Sarah left the kitchen and he realized that her words were as close to an 'I love you' as he'd ever hear again.
Charley thought about these things without truly thinking about them. Most of his attention was on John and on the bullets and on the gun in his hand.
Charley never thought he'd be the guy who carried guns around either.
John ran down the steps that led to the pier, to the boat. Charley concentrated on shooting, but a small part of his brain was still on Michelle. On Sarah and John. He remembered snatches of conversation, he remembered seeing Sarah's scars for the first time. He'd wanted to ask, but he hadn't, and he remembered the look on her face when he tamped down his curiosity. He remembered buying an engagement ring the day Tom Hansen's wife died, remembered thinking that if she said yes, no bad day would ever seem quite as bad again.
He remembered sitting at the table with John and Sarah this morning, thinking that this was as close as he'd ever get. To the life they might've had, if things were different.
He used the switch that would give John the time he needed. The boy had reached the boat, was working on getting it untied.
Charley smiled. John would make it, Charley would see to it. He smiled the same way he'd been smiling at John since he'd gotten here. He smiled to tell John that it was okay, that he didn't blame him for Michelle, didn't blame him for anything. Even in his darkest moments, even when he'd wanted badly to hate Sarah, Charley had never blamed her son.
He smiled to tell John that it was okay, that he needed to go, because he'd always been the most important thing. Even when he'd thought Sarah Connor was Sarah Reese, and that John Reese was an average teenage boy, Charley had known from day one that John would always be put first.
He turned away from John and kept shooting, kept seeing clips from different lives. His life with Sarah and John Reese, the life he could've had if Sarah Connor hadn't run on him, the life he'd built with Michelle.
He thought about the pretty waitress in the uniform, how he'd wanted to be there for her and her son. How Sarah had been so obviously skeptical of him, how he'd wormed his way under her skin. It was John that did it. Once he had John's approval, the rest was easy.
He thought again about last night in the kitchen. He'd told Sarah that he couldn't do any more, that he had nothing to offer. He'd been wrong. He could give her the only thing that mattered. He could stay alive long enough to give her John. Not a second longer than that, because Charley wasn't stupid. He knew what would happen, recognized the inevitability of it.
He recognized what his fate would be and it didn't bother him. John would escape, the metal couldn't swim. John would escape and Sarah would have her son and really, what else was there to fight for? What else mattered?
Nothing.
Charley thought he could hear the boat motor, even though that was impossible over all the gunfire. He smiled to himself, the barest twitch of his lips, and he kept shooting.