I do not own Terminator: Rise of the Machines.
I am not in a machine apocalypse. From a certain point of view. ;)
Not A Church Youth Group Sleepover
Being Human
"You look tired, Conner."
A good leader leads.
"Yeah. Yeah, a little. I'm good."
A good leader provides other people validation and purpose and belief.
"I can take a shift. Give you a break."
In proper amounts.
"Okay. Thanks, Russell."
A good leader is human.
"Hey, Barnes."
"Hey."
A good leader cares.
How's your brother?"
"Yeah, he's good. He's sleeping."
And that's the most important thing.
"That's good."
The big guy nods.
"Kate saved his life."
And John smiles.
"Good, that's good."
"Yeah."
A beat of silence.
Then . . .
"She's, uh, she's one badass assistant veterinarian."
John raises his eyebrows, casts him a careful look.
"She told you?"
"Yeah. Felt bad about not telling me."
John nods.
She probably shouldn't tell everyone.
Might make them nervous for her to work on them.
But he guesses it really shouldn't matter anymore.
Medicine is medicine. Help is help.
Still, . . .
"Well, . . ."
Barnes shakes his head.
"Her secret is safe with me. Help is help."
John nods, relieved.
Tries to think of another topic.
Barnes does it for him.
"So, uh, you and her are, uh, together? You and Kate?"
This takes John by surprise, feels himself trying not to blush, trying not to smile.
Wonders if this is what high school would have been like if he had been anyone but him.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah."
Stammers out a response, tries not to shuffle his feet like an idiot.
I mean, I'm an adult, dammit. In the machine apocalypse.
This is stupid.
But it's not, it's . . .
". . . good, man. That's how we're gonna get through this, you know?"
Human pair bonding?
I mean, technically, yeah, I guess.
Repopulate.
"Sticking together. Staying human. Taking care of each other."
Oh. Right.
"Yeah."
That's what I meant.
"Anyway, I think she went to catch some sleep for a while. If you're lookin' for her."
The suggestion is obvious.
Go see your woman.
Go be human.
And John hesitates.
Refuses to be embarrassed.
Nods his appreciation.
And goes.
She's in one of the singular bedrooms, sleeping.
Curled on her side on the mattress, facing the wall, away from him.
He hesitates, wonders if she wants to be left alone.
But he's tired, he's missed her.
And she's right there.
So he eases himself down next to her.
Tucks one hand under his head, wraps the other arm around her.
He hears her mumble something that he hopes sound more like a 'John' than a 'Scott'.
As she pulls his arm closer around her, he decides the world is already destroyed and whatever is left in the smoking rubble can be handled by someone else for a little while.
So he buries his face in her hair.
And closes his eyes.
Just for a little while.
Which has been a mistake.
There is no rest in the apocalypse.
No time for reprieve, no time for relaxation.
There never has been and there never will be.
He's closed his eyes just for a minute, a minute.
And the machines have broken in.
He doesn't know how, he doesn't know where.
But his ears are full of terrified, dying screams in the dark, his mouth and nose and eyes are full of acrid smoke that makes his vision blur and his lungs burn.
The mountain is shaking and rumbling like it's about to cave in its guts and fall down on all their heads.
Kate is gone, he can't see her.
He's up, he's running, there's a gun in his hands.
The fallout shelter seems to have grown a maze of corridors and he keeps getting lost, turned around.
Machines, terminators with no flesh coverings and ungodly huge machine guns stalk the blood-slick floors.
Drone fliers rattle off high-round bursts at anything in this steel and concrete tomb that moves.
And he can't find Kate, he stumbles over body after body, he hadn't remembered this many people being in the fallout shelter but they're all dead now and the human race is dead and it's all his fault just because he needed a goddamn nap-
He jerks awake and it's dark, it's dark-
And Katie is gone, he is alone-
"Hey, you okay?"
-and he's wrong, she's there, she's there.
She's . . .
"John?"
. . . pulling on a fresh shirt, running her fingers through her hair.
"Hey."
He sits up, pretending he's not gasping for air, like his heart isn't about to explode in his chest.
Like he's not covered in a slick sheen of sweat.
And presses trembling fingers against weary eyes.
"You okay?"
Nods.
"Yeah."
Forces a deep breath. Forces himself to look at her in the dim light.
"You sure?"
Sees her worry, sees her concern, that crease between her eyebrows she gets when she's really serious.
Forces himself to smile.
"Yeah."
And sees her decide . . .
"Okay."
. . . to believe him.
Thanks to MadMikeE (I know this isn't exact action but who knows about the future) for previously reviewing (and also being human).
:)