I do not own The Terminator.
I still love Kyle Reese.
A Lifetime's Worth
"I'm dying for a shower."
Yes, she had said that, would in later years repeatedly bemoan to herself the ridiculousness of that statement in light of everything that would come to pass.
The death, the mayhem.
The complete and utter destruction of her entire world and everything in it.
But she had been young and naive and unprepared.
And very sweaty.
And so she had showered.
And then everything, everything, else had happened.
And hours later, she had stirred drowsily from her sex-drunk stupor.
Oh my god, how many orgasms is it possible to have in a row?
And spoken . . .
"I'm dying for a shower."
. . . the very same words again.
Kyle, against whose pleasantly hairy chest she was snuggling, tightened his embrace around her for a second.
"You shower a lot here."
She giggled, feeling all the hellishness of the past two days very far away.
Just for the moment.
"Oh it's the best thing in the world. Haven't you ever had one?"
Her fingertips on the scruff of his cheek felt his smile.
"No. Not hot."
Of course he wouldn't have.
"Well, it's about time you did. Come on, it'll feel good."
And she felt him smile again.
"Okay."
And then she pulled him from the bed, and together, they went into the tiny little bathroom.
Then Sarah Conner watched in amusement and fascination and more than a little sadness as Kyle Reese experienced . . .
"It's really hot. How do they do it?"
"Water heaters. Heat up the water."
. . . his very first hot shower.
She made him stand under the water, took the little rectangle of flowery smelling soap . . .
"How do they make everything smell so nice?"
"Ha. Chemicals, I guess."
. . . and soaped him up . . .
"How does that feel?"
. . . as much as she could.
She knew he was a grown man, a battle-hardened soldier, could do it himself, could do anything.
Didn't even need this to keep going.
"It feels good."
But she wanted to spoil him.
As much as she could.
Even if it was just a crummy motel shower with crummy water pressure.
And a crummy sliver of off-brand Ivory soap.
She washed his back in slow, luxurious circles.
His hair.
His chest.
His backside, all firm and perfectly . . .
"Hey-"
"Sorry. It's part of the experience."
. . . squeezable.
She even washed his, . . .
"Sarah, oh god, . . ."
. . . well, she washed everything she could.
And then . . .
"Kyle . . ."
"Sarah . . ."
. . . they had to wash all over again.
Which was alright too.
"What happened?"
"We ran out of hot water. Time to get out before we freeze."
Mostly.
But she still wasn't done with Kyle Reese . . .
"Your wound looks better. Here, let me-"
"You don't have to do that."
"I know. Don't tell me what to do."
. . . yet.
She flashed him a cheeky little smile she didn't even know she had left in her.
Inspected the healing flesh under the wilting bandage she had so shakily wrapped a mere twenty-four hours ago.
And then . . .
"Here. Sit down."
"What are you going to do?"
. . . she gave him . . .
"I'm going to give you a massage."
"What's a massage?"
. . . his first and only . . .
"Sit and find out."
. . . spa experience.
She spent a long time on his shoulders, his back, kneading and rubbing the muscles she figured had been bunched up into knots . . .
"-Sss-"
"Sorry. Sore?"
"No. Shrapnel from a few years ago."
"Oh. Sorry."
"It's okay."
. . . ever since he was born.
She spent a lot of time kissing his scars too, all over his body.
Long and jagged. Round and puckered.
Slim and drawn.
Fresher scars, still pink under the ground-in dirt.
Old scars, silver and faded with age.
There were so many of them.
So much . . .
"You just disconnect it."
"So you don't feel anything?"
. . . pain.
He never completely relaxed, she could tell he was still listening for the dog to bark.
Tied right outside office for the night, it would be next to impossible to miss its bark.
Guess I'm going to have to buy a dog now.
I don't think I can train an iguana to bark at a Terminator.
She stubbornly decided not to worry about it unless the canine alarm went off.
Just focused on giving all she could to the man . . .
"Come here. I want you.'
. . . she'd only met two days before.
"Say it again, Kyle. It's okay."
And they didn't talk about the Terminator or the future or anything else of consequence anymore . . .
"I love you, Sarah."
. . . for a little while longer.
Kyle Reese deserved so much more.
And we deserved more of him. ;)
I can definitely imagine an AU where he doesn't immediately die and they run off together to raise John and stay safe from the Terminators, at least for a while.
Not cannon, I know, but wouldn't it be nice to have them together for a while? Him get to meet his son?
Anyway, thanks for reading.
Everyone appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.
:)