Disclaimer: I do not own the Terminator franchise. If I did, I would have Derek Reese and 16-year old John Connor locked in my basement. ...does that sound creepy?
Author's Note: See? Didn't I say I wouldn't let you down? Didn't I promise that this fic wouldn't be abandoned? Didn't I say that I'd update before Season 2 started?? AHA! See?? SEE?? It only took me holding myself hostage to get this chapter started, but once I got it rolling, the characters took control. So please, enjoy!
...and you all were worried... ;)
The Ford Explorer parked on the curb across the street from the office building. Its headlights clicked off and the engine stopped, but no one emerged from it.
"Two exits," Sarah said. "We've got an hour or less." She turned in her seat to look at John and Cameron. "You--"
John cut her off with a roll of the eyes. "Knock out security. We know, Mom."
She scowled at him, then turned to glare at Derek. "You--"
"Sarah, seriously." He pulled his Beretta from his belt and checked the chamber before loading it. The sound was loud and seemed to echo in the confines of the car. He didn't seem to notice. "We've done this before."
"And it nearly cost us my son's life."
Derek gave her a raised eyebrow. "So why the hell did you bring him along?"
Sarah glared back. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
Derek shrugged and went back to checking his gun. "I'm just saying…"
She slammed the emergency brake down and snapped, "You're in no goddamn position to lecture me about how I raise my son--"
"Well when you bitch about his safety and then take him to a damn shootout--"
"It's not going to be a shootout--"
"Then why the hell did we bother bringing the automatics?"
"It's precaution, Reese! I have to protect him--"
John cleared his throat from the backseat. "I'm still here, y'know."
They both ignored him.
"He'd be safer at home," Derek snapped. "Someplace where he's outta the way--"
"Dammit, Reese—"
John rolled his eyes again and looked over at Cameron. She smirked at him with her eyes, keeping her face blank per usual. John sighed and grabbed his backpack, then unlocked the door and climbed out before his mom and uncle could shift gears and stop him. As he slammed the door shut he heard Derek snap "What the hell are you doing?" and his mom shout "John! Get back in the car!"
He ignored them and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Cameron came around the back of the car, her expression neutral but her eyes amused. John jerked his head in the direction of the building.
"C'mon. Let's get this done."
As they started down the sidewalk Sarah and Derek scrambled out of the car.
"John! Get back here!"
He turned around but kept walking. "Mom, I've got this. Relax." And he adjusted the weight of his backpack and turned around, Cameron keeping stride with him even as she glanced back and met Sarah's eyes.
Sarah knew what the look meant, but she didn't have to like it.
"Damn," she mumbled, and then she rounded on Derek.
"This is your fault," she snapped. "If you hadn't—"
"My fault?" Derek stared at her from across the hood of the Explorer. "This is my fault?"
Instead of answering, she just glared and got the duffel bag from the car, and then walked down the sidewalk after her son. Derek stared at her retreating figure, steaming.
Jamming his Beretta into the back of his jeans, he slammed his door shut and followed.
"Bitch."
"I heard that."
The plan had been simple.
Get in. Get the information. Wipe out the system. Get out. Don't kill or get killed in the process.
They'd gotten into the office building easily enough. John had gotten around the main security and had accessed the needed files with little difficulty. The virus he planted before they left ate the systems up without a hitch. Everything was going so well, in fact, that they really shouldn't have been surprised when they met the security guards at the door.
In all her years of fighting and running from Skynet, Sarah had become uncomfortably familiar with Murphy's Law. She'd learned that it was just something you had to deal with.
Tell that to the bullet in her shoulder.
After their narrow escape (Cameron held the semi-poor excuses for rent-a-cops off while she, Derek and John made for the car), they rushed home. How one of the guards had managed to knick her – and why the bastard had pulled a gun in the first place – was entirely beyond her, but she decided not to ponder it too long; it would do better for her to concentrate on NOT cursing everything under the sun to the deepest pits of Hell. The drive was fairly silent: except for a few muttered 'damns' when John pressed his hand over the wound, Sarah never said a word; Derek was surprisingly solemn as he drove; Cameron watched the road with her usual blank stare.
It wasn't until they made it inside the house and Cameron pulled out the first aid kit that anyone spoke.
"I'll do it."
Everyone stared at Derek with surprised expressions, even Cameron. She, being the machine, though, was naturally the quickest to recover.
"I would do a better job," she said matter-of-factly. "My programming dictates—"
"Yeah, and I don't give a damn." Derek stepped forward and took the needle that she had been threading, glaring down at her. "You're not touching her."
Sarah, frustrated and in considerable amounts of pain, quipped, "She's done it before, Reese."
He fixed her with his glare. "That was before she blew up. What makes you think she won't fuck up and make it worse?"
"Reese—"
Derek finished threading the needle, not replying. John, seeing the expressions on both their faces, acted accordingly and grabbed Cameron by the upper arm.
"C'mon, Cam. Let's go decode the files."
Cameron opened her mouth to respond, but John raised his eyebrows in that "just do it" way, so she complied and followed him out of the kitchen. Sarah sighed and glared at Derek.
"You're an ass, you know that?"
He didn't look at her as he said, "I meant it. I don't want her touching you."
Sarah stared at him, then turned away. Despite blood loss she still managed to blush. Damn all Reeses…
She felt his hands on her shoulder, and before she could say anything he was ripping the material of her shirt from the neck down to the hem, thoroughly exposing her back. She wanted to scream at him, clout him over the head, anything. He didn't apologize. In face, he didn't say anything. Nothing off-hand or rude or even remotely Derek-like.
He simply wiped away the excess blood and took the needle and began to sew her up.
The initial hiss of pain was the only sound she made as his calloused fingers pulled the needle and thread through her torn skin. After that she gritted her teeth and bore it.
Pinch… Pull… Pinch… Pull… Pinch…
"I told you, y'know."
Sarah opened her eyes. "What?"
Derek pulled on the thread and she sucked in her breath.
"I told you it'd be a goddamn shootout."
She had the urge to laugh, but thought better of it.
"You call one gun being fired a shootout?"
She felt him shrug and finish the suturing, and then he packed up the first aid kit and shut it. He didn't say anything until he was at the sink washing his hands.
"It's a shootout if somebody gets shot."
He was close enough, if she just scooted forward on the table a little bit her boot would go straight up his—
He turned around and gave her a look, one that was strangely familiar and made her skin burn, and not just where she'd been shot. Their eyes met, and suddenly is was an impromptu staring contest; who would pansy out first? Sarah had the fleeting feeling that it might be her – the way he was looking at her, it was different. Uncertain, hesitant even, but beneath that was determination and something else, something…predatory.
And it was that glint, that single streak of hunter in his eyes that made her look away.
His voice was pitched low when he said, "Y'know, sometimes I just don't get you."
She didn't hear him because she didn't want to. Instead, she hopped off the table and tentatively rolled her shoulder, testing the amount of movement the stitching gave her. She hated to admit it, but he'd done a good job. However, her shirt was ripped to shreds, and that presented a problem.
Before she could think better of it she pulled the shirt off and walked out of the kitchen, knowing full well Derek's fiery green eyes were glued to her bare skin.
"It's better that way."
(Author's Note: Uh-oh. Hehe, enter sexual tension! Also, notice how the author cleverly avoiding having to write an action scene. Haha. Clever author. Anywho, please REVIEW and tell me what you think! I have the feeling this story is finally starting to come along. )
