Title- Becoming John Connor
Chapter- 7/?
Author- Dekardkain
Date- 02/22/10
Rating- T
Category - Action/Character study JC/C
Archiving- Would be an honor, just ask.
Warnings- Violence/language
Disclaimers- I don't own this, no money, yadda yadda.
Summary: Facing one's fate is the measure of a man. Changing one's fate is the measure of a hero.
Chapter 7 - "Blind-Sided"
Yereven, Armenia
Feb 23rd, 2011
1511 hrs (local time)
When she had been but a little girl, Arte remembered well how her superstitious old grandmother had often described an eerie silence as being 'of the dead'. It was not until this moment however that she understood what the old crone had been on about.
The cavernous, overly ornate hall had never felt colder as she slowly approached her father's battered armchair to the left of the fireplace. As always he heard her approach well before she had a chance to announce herself, his gravelly voice like steel. "You walk too slowly to bring me news of success. Get on with it."
Arte stepped back from the chair, as always weary of falling within striking distance of her father while possessed by one of his moods. "The second team has just reported in."
"Ah, the mother and the boyfriend. Did they miss one?" Running his fingers over the selection of rare vintages, he picked one of his finest brandies for this occasion. It was not every day a man was able to avenge his son. "A pity."
"They wounded the boyfriend but the mother remains untouched." Arte's head bowed, "We lost six men. They attacked in a crowded pub, the police have become involved."
Her father was silent for a long moment before bringing his hand crashing down on his desk so hard the tumbler shattered within his grasp. "This is why I tell you we should have sent our own men! We trust trash and we get trash in return! I tell you this since you were little girl."
"Father, they could have been traced back to you..."
"They would not have failed! These mercenaries have no sense of duty, no honor! They cannot even snuff out an insignificant American housewife and her son." Wiping the spilled brandy onto his waistcoat, General Pezevenk Sarkissian rose from his chair with a resigned sigh. "At least we will not have to pay them for such incompetence. You know how I despise rewarding failure."
"It has taken us too long to find our quarry to let it go to ground now. We have exposed ourselves and I have no doubt that they will try to hide... we must not let them disappear again. You will dispatch Dimitri and his team to clean up this disgrace. You will accompany him personally."
Arte could not entirely suppress a shudder at the mention of her father's most efficient enforcer. "But the second team hasn't even made contact with the boy. They may have better luck!"
"They will fail." Swiping a bit of spilled brandy off the cover of the file on top of his desk, Pezevenk flicked it open and removed the full page photograph he had stared at every day for the past two years. It was a simple black and white security cam still of a boy standing beside a striking middle aged woman, her left hand shoving him back towards an attractive young girl while her right unleashed hell from an automatic pistol. Shaking his head at the image he tossed it in front of his daughter.
"Twenty-five years I serve in KGB before the collapse. Twenty-five years I make it my business to know a man's soul just by looking him here." Pezevenk drove two fingers towards his eyes, "You know what I see when I look in those eyes?"
Arte shook her head.
"I see death my daughter. The tiger is never fiercer than in defense of her cubs." He ran his single good eye over the photo, scratching his scruffy goatee thoughtfully. "But I believe the real danger lies with the cub himself."
"Father," The young woman quirked a brow, "He is just a boy."
Obviously irritated by her insinuation, Pezevenk snatched up the paper and crammed it back into the file. "A boy who killed your brother. Never forget that Arte."
"Of course father."
Waving a hand in dismissal the weathered old General set off in search of a fresh glass, "You will contact Dimitri. This game ends now."
*Two hours Earlier*
O'Reilly's Pub
Pueblo Colorado
Feb 22nd, 2011
0011 hrs
Rubbing the sore spot on the back of his shoulder for the hundredth time since they'd arrived, Derek cast a baleful glance at the woman slouching on the stool beside him. At least her mood had improved since she'd punched him. "You really should try to enjoy yourself Sarah. Probably the last chance you'll get to relax."
"You and John have done more than enough relaxing for all of us." Sarah refused to look at him while she nursed her beer. She also refused to let him know how badly the knuckles on her right hand were killing her. Even after all this time she couldn't understand how the man managed to stay in the shape he was in while living the kind of life he lived.
Shoving his empty to the side Derek grabbed a fresh one from the bucket of ice between them. "Believe me, the kid needed it. He's wound so tight you could bounce a quarter off his..."
"Watch it Reese. That's my son you're talking about." Finally turning in his direction Sarah graced him with a wry smile, "Just because we're co-workers now doesn't mean you get to gripe to me about the boss."
The Resistance fighter seemed to consider it for a moment before returning her smile, "Fair enough. I've gotta admit, you're taking the whole situation a lot better than I would have in your position."
"You keep beating me over the head with your rank and I might just start having a problem with it." One thing Derek loved about Sarah was that you always knew where you stood with her. No games. No bullshit. At the moment it was more than clear she was only half kidding. "But I was expecting something like this. I put John in an impossible situation and he took the only option available to him. How can I blame him for that? How can I blame him for doing what I trained him to do?"
"So..." The teasing look in his eyes told her that Derek was about to bestow one of his always surprisingly deep, if exceedingly rare, insights. "Was this a 'Come to Jesus' or an 'I've Created a Monster'?"
"I'm...," Sarah's grin was evil, "Gonna have to refer you to my no bad-mouthing the boss policy."
"Yeah. He has that effect on people."
She shook her head. "He just needs time to figure things out. To get his head on straight."
"That's the problem Sarah. He has too much time to think." Derek had been debating having this conversation with her for weeks, but John's recent behavior as well as his increasing dependence on the metal was forcing his hand.
"By the time I was sent back that was pretty much all he did. He had completely closed himself off from the rest of humanity, only confiding in his pet metal. He needs to be doing something to get his mind off this shit or it's gonna eat him alive. Kyle used to say that John was always happiest in the field when all he had to focus on were the men directly under his command. That kind of cut and dry, black and white, live or die scenario is something his life is sorely lacking. It's not often Connor gets to make an easy decision."
Sarah couldn't say she disagreed, John had picked up that trait from her. "Alright. But what are we supposed to do about it?"
"That," Derek smirked while tilting his beer at her, "I leave in your capable hands Lieutenant."
Growling slightly, Sarah spun her stool to face him. "I just told you that.."
"Sarah Baum?" A thickly accented voice called out from behind them, causing Derek to slip instantly off his stool and position himself between Sarah and the new arrival. The guy was too small to be metal, too scruffy to be police, but in Pueblo it was Sarah Fairbanks which meant they were in for an interesting night.
Derek frowned at the man, then glanced over his shoulder to Sarah. "Babe? You ever heard of a Sarah Baum?"
Glowering but playing along, Sarah shook her her. "No hon. Can't say that I have."
"Well then." The man smiled crookedly, "My mistake."
Both he and Derek drew their sidearms at the exact same moment, but only Derek had been expecting the other man to do so. Swiping the nickle-plated sissy pistol to the ground with his free hand, Derek put two rounds into the attacker's chest with his Glock. Seeing other men rising from tables nearby with obvious intent, the Resistance soldier caught the dead body with his free hand before he had a chance to fall and yanked it flush with his own. It wasn't perfect, but it was cover.
Sarah was already at his side, doing her best to provide covering fire over the heads of the innocent civilians pouring towards the exits. Deciding they probably had the right idea she grabbed Derek by the shoulder and started pulling him back towards the exit. It was right at that moment a figure loomed up from behind a toppled table to her right, leveling an automatic at her skull.
Before she'd had time to do more than wish she'd been paying closer attention, Derek had thrown the now bullet-riddled body he'd been using as cover into the man, following after in a blur of fists and muzzle flashes. She heard both men grunt as they collided with the hardwood floor, only Derek getting back up, though very slowly. He paused for a second, staring at his own chest in shock before looking up to meet her eyes. "Derek!"
"I'm good!" Shoving himself off the floor, Derek half ran/half lurched his way back to her, firing over her shoulder and into the large glass wall pane separating the bar from the street outside. It took the rest of the clip, but just before they reached it the thing finally gave way under the onslaught and crashed to the floor in a shower of sparkling shards. Yanking Sarah through the improvised front door, he shoved her in the direction of her Jeep. "Get it started and pull it up!"
Not bothering to wait to see if his orders were being obeyed, Derek ducked back behind a nearby mail box, slipping a fresh clip into his Glock and wondering idly how well reinforced sheet metal would hold out in a firefight. He didn't have long to wonder as their pursuers reached the front of the building a few seconds later. Apparently having assumed they were fleeing balls-to-the-wall, they hadn't been expecting Derek to try and get the drop on them.
He was only too happy to prove them wrong. He dropped the first two before they'd even cleared the windowsill, all but one of the others immediately diving back for cover. The only holdout was a massive tattoo-covered son of a bitch with a bald head and the ugliest goatee Derek had ever had the misfortune of encountering. Hearing Sarah's Jeep screech to a halt behind him, he emptied the rest of his clip at Bizzaro Mr. Clean, frowning when despite three clear impacts to center mass the guy was still standing. Shit. Maybe one of them was a terminator.
Time seemed to stand still while the mercenary slowly brought the muzzle of his Uzi around to face him. Just as his life was finishing up flashing before his eyes, a shotgun clapped directly behind his head and the attacker's chest erupted in a sickening pink mist as he plummeted backwards onto the pavement. Nope. Definitely human.
Tossing a grateful smile to the woman still covering the front window from over the top of her Jeep, Derek ducked into the passenger side as carefully as possible. A few seconds later they were screaming down main street at a hundred and ten miles an hour with the freezing wind pouring in through the cracked windshield.
Sarah slammed her hand repeatedly into the steering wheel in a vain effort to release some of the tension she'd just built up. Hearing a groan from beside her, her head pivoted like an eagle stalking prey. "Shit. You're hit."
Derek grunted while clamping a palm down over the left side of his chest. "Yeah. Little bit."
"Can you make it back to the house?"
"Not like I have much choice." Fishing a sweater out of the back of the Jeep with his good arm, Derek jammed it between his jacket and his chest, the world whiting out around the edges as the pain shot through him. "But I'd hurry if I was you."
Sarah nodded grimly, her foot dropping the gas pedal to the floor.
Room 312, Ramada Inn
Denver Colorado
Feb 22nd, 2011
0315 hrs
Cameron let her head fall backwards onto the stiff hotel pillow, her hair fanning out beneath her in complete disarray. She suddenly found it very odd that she didn't care about the mess. Cameron prided herself on being impeccable about her appearance, with the exception of the occasional bullet hole. John calls those an 'occupational hazard'.
Speaking of John. Her human companion's face had gone from an expression of rather smug satisfaction to steadily increasing worry in it's prominent position hovering directly above her own. "Cam? You still with me?"
"Yes John." Feeling a satisfied smile of her own spread across her features, Cameron ran her hand lazily up her lover's spine earning an appreciative groan. "I believe I prefer this positioning. It seems to offer the maximum surface area for mutual stim..."
She was forced to trail off as John's lips met hers. This was by far her favorite form of interruption. When he finally pulled back his eyes were twitching in amusement. "It probably had something to do with you not blacking out during the best part this time."
Cameron tilted her head to the side, her hair spilling off the side of the pillow in a chestnut torrent. "That's a valid theory."
Before he could respond she pulled him back down on top of her, lips and tongue attacking the base of his neck with the same single-minded determination she exhibited in every endeavor connected to John. Her lips curled into an unconscious smile as he shuddered above her, the action causing his hips to grind against hers deliciously where they still remained most intimately connected. "One that requires further testing."
John chuckled against her shoulder before pulling back, his smile fading a bit at the deadly serious look on her face. He may be new at this but two hours of rather vigorous... exercise had seemed like a pretty noteworthy accomplishment. John wasn't exactly in poor physical condition and he already felt like he'd gone 15 rounds with Mike Tyson. Wow. Who knew an ego could deflate that quickly? Lucky I didn't get whiplash.
"Um... Cam."
"I can be on top this time." She assured him, giving him the same look that had shattered his resolve their first night together. "Please John?"
"I... uuuhhh." John sighed, "I need to..."
Rest? Sleep? Fall into a coma? Die now because this is probably as good as it's gonna get?
Then he found himself looking down at her sprawled out beneath him, completely bare, skin still flushed from their most recent round of lovemaking. It occurred to him that it should probably be illegal to look that good. Damn it. "I need to get some water if I'm gonna be any use to you."
Nodding enthusiastically, Cameron pulled him in for a long kiss. She only let up when John's need for fresh oxygen demanded it."Of course. Hydration is important."
Finally disentangling themselves from each other, John draped the covers over Cameron before gathering up his clothes. The action was completely unnecessary as she lacked both modesty and the need for exterior temperature regulation, but Cameron found she appreciated the gesture all the more because he didn't have to. It probably shouldn't surprise her at this point, John had been treating her as more than a machine for a very long time. It's what she loved about him.
Cameron's lips quirked up at the thought. She sincerely believed the feelings she possessed for the young human were love, or at least the closest machine equivalent she was capable of. Telling him that was another matter entirely. It hadn't turned out very well the last time.
Running an appreciative eye over the focus of her thoughts as he abandoned the thus far fruitless search for his boxers and slid his jeans on without them, she could feel her ambient skin temperature rising again already. Following the garment up until he buttoned them around his waist Cameron's eyes widened in shock. "John?!"
Hand twitching for his pistol at the alarm in her voice, John glanced over his shoulder. "What?"
"Your...," Sitting up in bed, Cameron slid down to the edge in order to run a shaky hand over the dark purple splotch along his hip then along another marring his shoulder. He couldn't remember ever seeing her this distraught. "I damaged you!"
There was an awkward moment where John actually began laughing causing the cyborg to immediately start searching his eyes for signs of a concussion. Flashing an amused smile he batted her hands away from his head. "Cam! I'm fine. I just... well you looked so freaked! Don't scare me like that. I thought it was something serious."
"It is serious John." She glared at him incredulously, "I injured you."
"What it was, was an accident." Apparently for John this was the end of the discussion. He rose from the bed and pulled on his t-shirt, Cameron cringed at the stiff way he was moving about the room. She had been so sure that she'd managed to reign in her strength, apparently her control had lapsed. This was unacceptable.
She was just about to explain this concept to John when his cellphone began jumping around on the table beside the bed.
John padded back over to the bed, leaning in to drop a kiss on Cameron's temple before grabbing the annoying piece of plastic, rolling his eyes at the caller ID and flipping it open. "Future savior of mankind speaking."
"Whoa whoa! Slow down." The voice on the other end was yelling so loudly Cameron was easily able to identify the caller as Sarah Connor. "Jesus. Right in the middle of the bar? Is he alright?"
"No. I had the thing on vibrate, I must not have heard it. Well, I was sleeping! You know? What normal people do at night?" Slipping his boots on with an exaggerated roll of his eyes for Cameron's benefit, John grabbed the plastic ice bucket from the bathroom counter top. "No one is trying to kill me mom. Not unless they've sent a T-1000 back to imitate the ice-maker."
Sarah's was now screaming so loudly the younger Connor had to hold the phone back from his head, "And?! Are you sure he didn't just piss off the wrong person? Derek does have that effect on people."
"What? No you don't need to come up here! I don't care if you're only twenty minutes away. Turn around." Pausing just in front of the door John pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "I am taking this seriously. You're overreacting!"
Clamping a hand down over the receiver he glanced over his shoulder to Cameron who was now almost fully dressed herself. Sometimes it amazed him how much the cyborg reminded him of his mother. A few bullets start flying and suddenly it's the end of the world. "Hey. I'm grabbing some ice from the machine, you need anything?"
"No. Thank you John." Pulling her shirt down over her head she paused to shake out her hair. "Will we be leaving?"
Opening the door and stepping part way out onto the second floor walkway he shook his head. "We'll stick to the plan. I really don't think they're dumb enough to..."
Less than six inches to the right of John's head the door frame erupted in a shower of splinters and shattered plaster, spraying the side of his face with shrapnel and sending him careening backwards into the room as round after round of fire poured through the quickly shredding door. "Fuck!"
He'd barely made it back into the room before he was airborne, Cameron's hand latched firmly onto the collar of his shirt as she yanked him behind her and ran a calm eye over his body in search of obvious signs of injury. With the exception of a collection of nasty scratches along the side of his face, he appeared undamaged. "Were you wounded?"
"I'm fine!" Pulling himself free of her grasp he went to retrieve his cellphone only to find it in multiple pieces scattered around the floor. Well, at least he knew Sarah would assume the worst and get here ASAP. "How many?"
Tilting her head, Cameron stepped right in front of the window, which erupted less than a second later in a shower of automatic weapons fire. "Six."
"Get down!" John growled, "Next time how about just glancing around the corner?"
"That was unnecessary. I am not detecting any weapons capable of damaging my combat chas..."
"Turn the light off!" John hissed. He didn't have time to deal with Cameron's lack of a self-preservation instinct at the moment. Keeping underneath the windows, John slid across the wall until he was beside the large Army duffel containing his clothes and personal weapons. Years of practice and his mother's mantras meant it only took him a second to locate and retrieve his prized M4. Slipping the weapon from it's customary home he quickly checked the breach just as his order was obeyed and the room was plunged into darkness.
Cameron padded back over to his side, ducking slightly but obviously far less concerned about being wounded by the relatively harmless gunfire still smashing into the room sporadically. The cyborg was pleased to note John was drawing deep breaths through both his nose and mouth in an obvious attempt to heavily oxygenate his blood, thus avoiding the dreaded and adrenaline fueled 'tunnel-vision' veteran soldiers feared. This action would greatly increased his chances of survival and was easy for her to understand. What she couldn't understand was why he had his right arm fully extended in front of his face and was staring intently at his palm.
Though a cursory inspection assured her that there was no visual damage to his digits, he may have broken his wrist dodging the earlier gunfire. "Has your hand sustained damage?"
"Not all of us have thermal sensors Cam."John's grin was incongruous considering the potential danger he faced. "If this is gonna work I'm gonna need a minute for my eyes to adjust."
As was nearly always the case, John's actions were based on sound tactical decisions. She had never doubted him. "What's the plan?"
The grin vanished as he ran the hand he'd been staring at slowly down the side of her face. He didn't really care for the idea. Cameron on the other hand would love it, which bothered him almost more than the plan itself. Unfortunately for both of them John didn't have anything better under the circumstances. "We've got maybe five minutes before Homeland Security and Denver PD is crawling all over this place. Grab the stuff, make a dash for the car. While you're drawing their fire I'll open up from up here and neutralize as many as I can."
Cameron nodded once before gathering up their duffels and swinging both over one shoulder, her SPAS-12 locked and loaded. John couldn't help but smile as he leaned in to kiss her. "Remember, it's not against the rules to duck. Okay?"
"Okay John." Bracing her back against the wall beside the door she waited for his signal as John crawled along the floor to position himself near the window. After swiping a few shards of shattered glass off his palms he raised himself up onto a knee, his free hand shooting out in a partially closed fist, three fingers extended.
The first curled inward and Cameron flipped the safety off her shotgun. Luckily she had been packing slugs for potential terminator encounters since Wilson's arrival, buckshot would never have reached the enemy's positions from this distance.
The second finger curled down and she heard John deactivate his own safetly. She was out the door before the third finger had completely disappeared. Her CPU had calculated the positions of their attackers based on their earlier gunfire, it was a simple matter to target the nearest one and fire off a round even before the others had been alerted to her presence. The slug tore through the car door the man had been using as cover like tissue paper, slamming into his torso and sending him reeling backwards onto the pavement.
"Five." Cameron called over her shoulder in an almost disinterested tone as she racked another round into the chamber. Recovering from their momentary shock at seeing a hundred and twenty pound girl storming down the stairs with a hundred and fifty pounds of gear on her back and a tactical shotgun spraying death at them, the mercenaries unloaded full throttle.
John winced at the unmistakable sound of rounds ricocheting off Cameron's endoskeleton, hoping she was at least partially heeding his advice. Figuring the most effective way to help her would be to reduce the number of assholes firing at her, John rose from cover and let his sights drift methodically across the parking lot below.
No thinking. No feeling. Identify the target and eliminate. His mother's words were playing on an automatic loop through his mind, the only accompanying sound the thudding of his heart in his ears which was now easily drowning out the cacophony of gunfire.
A head poked up from behind a blue Dodge Stratus fifty meters distant, John's barrel lined up instantaneously.
Breathe. Breathe. The figure rose a fraction higher, his now reloaded Kalashnikov swinging up above the hood. Squeeze.
The figure dropped. Four.
John could feel a shudder rip through him that had nothing to do with the kick of his M4, his breath now coming in shallow gasps. The mantra never ceasing. No thinking. No feeling. Identify the target and eliminate.
Cameron had just reached the foot of the stairs and was slowly advancing on Derek's battered Dodge, occasionally firing off a round when the opportunity presented itself while doing her best to concede to John's wishes. It did not personally effect her if she was damaged, but he seemed to place a great deal of emphasis on the matter. Her HUD fired off a warning as one of their attackers rounded the back of a nearby SUV, his MP5 spraying her frame with 9mm rounds.
His face contorted in a mixture of fear and agony when she shrugged off the attack, stepping forward to grab the side of his head, slamming it through the driver's side window. Though severely injured, he was still a potential threat to John. She neutralized the threat by breaking his neck.
Just as she was tossing the bags into the back of the truck, turning around to finish the rest of their attackers off so they could depart unmolested, a red pickup tore into the parking lot. Two men in the back opened up on her nearly instantaneously while screaming to each other in Russian, high caliber automatic fire knocking her back into the side of Derek's Dodge. The moment the vehicle came to a stop two more men dove out of the cab, using their respective doors for cover while they alternated fire between Cameron and where John was still raining down cover fire from the second floor.
John had just pulled back from his firing position to reload when a 7.62 round splintered the drywall at his back and blasted it's way straight through his left forearm. Falling forward onto his good hand, John's M4 went crashing onto the rubble strewn floor as he desperately clutched at the gushing wound. "Fuck!"
In a move that would have sent his mother into convulsive fits he shoved aside the pain long enough to glance up over the windowsill, just in time to see Cameron knocked back off her feet as she again tried to right herself under the constant stream of lead. Apparently deciding that the unkillable girl who'd just wasted three of their men was the primary threat, the others were closing in around her while the backup they'd called in the truck kept her physically pinned with machine gun fire.
Under most circumstances focusing on the terminator would have been a sound tactical decision. Tonight though, it was a big fucking mistake. Tearing a chunk off the bed sheets with his good hand, John quickly and efficiently wrapped it around the seeping wound in his forearm, pulling it taught with his teeth. He knew when the adrenaline wore off the thing would be less than useless, so he had to move fast.
"You want a war..." Flipping the mattress off the bed he shoved it up against the wall below the windows and hunched down behind it. It wasn't much, but at least it would catch a chunk of the shrapnel that was about to come his way. Saying a last little prayer that the blast didn't disable Cameron in the process, John loaded the single M203 grenade he had into the launcher tucked beneath the barrel of his M4. "You got one."
Popping up from behind his makeshift cover, the only warning their attackers had was the soft 'ka-thunk' of the grenade clearing the launch tube before it slammed directly into the engine block of the truck. Flames erupted from the cabin as the force of the blast flipped the vehicle up and backwards, tires flying off in all directions as every car alarm within a three block radius decided the world was ending.
John was out the door and on his way down the stairs even before the truck had landed, a good chunk of the building itself now in flames as the few surviving mercs scrambled to find cover behind anything that didn't look like it was about to explode.
He wasn't sure if it was the anger, the shock, or the blood loss, but John could feel an unnatural calm descend upon him as he strolled calmly across the flaming wreckage of what was once a non-descript hotel parking lot. Stepping over the still smoldering corpse of one of the men from the truck, he used the ensuing chaos to his advantage, squeezing off two quick bursts that dropped three of the fleeing mercenaries from behind while they were still firing at his previous position upstairs.
Standing in the middle of the rubble, John was disappointed to feel his rifle clicking impotently and stopped long enough to retrieve a fresh clip from his back pocket, ignoring the way his blood-slicked fingers slipped and slid as he tried to manipulate the mechanism. It was a good thing he'd bothered to, as yet another vehicle, this time a Jeep, smashed through the flaming remains of the destroyed truck and barreled directly for him. Without pause, without emotion, John aimed for a spot directly above the steering wheel and prepared to fire.
The millisecond before he depressed the trigger the barrel of his weapon was shoved down, Cameron jerking his face to the side with her other hand to gain his attention. She'd been screaming his name for the last two minutes but he didn't seem to hear her. "John! It's Sarah. We have to leave!"
Shaking his head as if he'd just woken up, John frowned. "Cam?"
Leaping out of her Jeep and surveying the carnage around them Sarah's eyes flared as she caught sight of her son. "What the hell's wrong with him?!"
"Nothing." Cameron practically dragged the young man around the side of the Jeep, jerking open the door and shoving him inside. "Get him home. I'll retrieve the truck."
Still not accustomed to taking orders from Cameron of all people, Sarah nodded curtly before jumping back into the driver's seat. Already hearing sirens in the distance she slammed the vehicle into reverse and rammed right back through the flaming wreckage blocking the entrance. Jumping a divider and narrowly avoiding a head-on collision she slipped onto the highway on-ramp just as the first responders were passing in the opposite direction.
After a few minutes of tense silence, once she was sure they weren't being followed, Sarah allowed herself to run a critical eye over John for the first time. His left arm was a mess, what looked like a bloody bed sheet tied around an angry wound, his face ashen either from shock or blood loss. She didn't miss the way he was clutching the rifle in his hands like it was the only link between life and death. But he was alive. That's what mattered.
He jumped half a foot when her hand settled on the back of his neck, causing her to smile reassuringly. He didn't need a lecture right now. He needed his mother. "Bad day kiddo?"
His head crashed forward like a switch had been flipped, his shoulders shuddering and his hands shaking as he released a ragged breath she hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Yeah... you could say that."
"It's alright." Nodding slowly, she rubbed up and down the back of his neck in slow soothing motions. "It's over now."
T.B.C.
Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, you have no idea how much it means to me to hear your opinions on the story. If I tried to respond to everyone this would be as long as the chapter, so please don't get offended if you get left out. If you have any questions I haven't answered just PM me. Thanks again and please let me know what you think.
bigbew - I like writing this John a lot but I admit it's difficult. This isn't John we've seen in either the TV show or the movies, which means I have to fill in a lot of gaps myself. I just hope I'm doing a decent job of it.
necro-wulf - It doesn't really take evil insight to realize she could nag him to death, just an ex-wife. Did I say that? Bad me.
NordWest - Thanks for the detailed review. I do intend to expand on John's team quite a bit, I agree that they offer an interesting facet to the story that I don't want to ignore or gloss over. As far as John/Cameron I suppose I saw things developing a little differently. Like John admitted to Derek he had thought about being with Cameron for a long time, but never acted on it because he felt like he would be taking advantage of her. It was only when she actually came to him that he finally cleared that hurdle.
bryan0711 - Your review really made my day man, even encouraged me to crank out this next update a little faster. So thanks for that. I love long, well thought-out feedback. I figured there might be a few Cole fans in the crowd and I don't think you'll be disappointed. There will be a lot more interaction between her and John in the future, I just want to make sure she's more than just a foil for Cameron down the road but a fully fleshed out character that the reader cares about.
