Written for the prompt - Sarah and Sarah's mortality go into a bar… (321 words)

The bar is noisy and crowded. A jukebox in the corner is the only bright spot in the room, with its neon and its backlit song titles, although there is also bright blue neon behind the bottles of alcohol, vying for precedence.

She shouldn't be here. She should be home, with John. She should be doing a lot of things, and none of them involve walking into a crowded bar or ordering straight whiskey, tossing it off like it's water.

She slams the shot glass onto the wood bar, heavily coated with layers upon layers of polyurethane, and watches a couple at the end of the room sway together in time to pounding music. She doesn't really see them, though. All she can see is what was left of Cameron, of a machine that had looked like a girl and that now looks like so much metal and meat. And blood. Lots of blood, albeit synthetic. John had been so intense, nothing of the child left in him. He had begun giving orders and Derek had followed them, if reluctantly.

And Sarah had left them to it. She had felt Derek's eyes on her as she grabbed her leather jacket and her keys and walked out the door, but he hadn't said anything. And John hadn't even noticed, he was so intent on putting the pieces back together.

She doesn't know why she left. The terminator proved itself a valuable weapon many times over the past few months; John is right to try to rebuild it. But it's still a machine, still just metal. And Sarah doesn't entirely trust it.

"Penny for your thoughts…?"

Sarah doesn't look at the man beside her. Maybe it's the whiskey, or maybe it's a sense of her own mortality. She turns her back on him, says over her shoulder as she walks back out the door, "Judgment day is coming. You'd best prepare for it."