He's faced down terminators, Hunter-Killer squads, a nightmarish stay at a Skynet work camp, and more. He's done it bravely and pretty damn resourcefully to be honest. So this, this of all things should be easy. But standing in the cereal aisle of the small town's grocery store, the ex-soldier feels totally at a loss.

Earlier that day...

"This is beautiful..."

Sarah's standing on the small front porch, looking out over the lake, with one hand shading her eyes and a big grin. The trees outside are an explosion of red, orange, and yellow fall colours.

"The shelter is adequate and the location is at an opitmal distance from other dwellings." The T800 contributes, setting down a box of guns and ammunition on the rickety kitchen table.

Sarah ignores him and plunks down on the steps, "I hope we get to stay here a little longer than the last place..."

The last safehouse was a shithole. Which coming from Kyle's vast experience of living in sewers and bombed out tunnels, is saying something.

"No argument here," he agrees, looking around the small, dusty kitchen and breathing in the smell of... of... well, trees probably. Whatever it is, the air smells clear and fresh out here away from the city.

"We should set up a perimeter and catalogue our supplies."

"Aw c'mon Pops, come out here and enjoy the view for a second,"Sarah calls over her shoulder, "The perimeter can wait a few minutes."

The Terminator leaves the box of guns and ammo and lumbers out the screen door, past a surprised Kyle, to stand just over Sarah's shoulder. After a few seconds, it looks down at her.

"This location has many qualities which qualify it as aesthetically pleasing."

"Told you so," she beams.

"Yes, " the T800 agrees before turning and walking back into the kitchen.

Noticing the way Kyle is staring, it looks at him unblinking and says in a low voice, "Sometimes it is more time efficent to humour Sarah Connor than to engage her in an argument."

This is true.

So when Sarah handed him a shopping list and told him to go into town and buy some supplies, he should have known his efforts to get out of it were going to be in vain.

"It's your turn," she says waving him off.

He looks down at the list written on the back of a flyer and frowns, "Ok fine, but wouldn't it be smarter to send The Big Guy? Put his newfound metal shapeshifting ablilities to work?"

Sarah folds her arms and leans back against the kitchen counter.

"He's busy digging a new cellar or something. He wants one of us to go. Anyway, the Canadians aren't really looking for us, so you should be fine in town. What?" She asks teasingly, "Are you initmidated by a little grocery shopping Seargant Reese?"

Yes.

"No..."

"I wrote the list, just get what's on it," she insists, reaching into a backpack on the counter beside her, "Go make use of some of this crazy Canadian coloured money."

She hands him a wad of bills and he glances down at it totally aware that he has pretty much zero experience ever actually buying something at an actual store. With actual money.

"You may as well make use of the beard Girzzly Adams," she adds with a smirk, again referencing... someone... He thinks. Or a bear? Sarah may be behind in her references as far as anyone from 2017's concerned, but if Sarah's behind... Kyle's not even in the race. "You claim you grew it as a disguise..."

He looks up at her and shrugs, "You say you hate it. But I think secretly..."He takes a step toward her and pulls her in towards him, hands on her hips, "You kind of like it..."

He dips his head to capture her lips in a kiss before breaking it to rub his beard playfully over her cheek.

"Ech... stop it!" she cries out laughing.

The sound of heavy footsteps startles them and they both look up to see the T800 watching them.

"Apologies. I did not mean to interrupt your mating."

Strangely, that word doesn't get any less mortifying every time Kyle hears it.

And so here he is, having thoroughly lost a battle of wills with Sarah Connor, standing staring at a wall of cereal. There have to be twenty different kinds here: colourful ones, chocolatey ones, ones with nuts, ones wth oats, squares, flakes, boxes, bags... Holy shit. Not long ago he would have run into any building containing this much food, grabbed whatever he could without looking it over much and beat it out of there before the next Hunter-Killer flyover. It's... overwhelming. And all of these people just casually strolling around feeling totally safe out in the open with their families, picking and chosing what they feel like eating, instead of desperately scavenging for it among smoking ruins... It's not just the availability, it's the options! How the hell does he know which one of these cereals to buy? He looks down at his list, which unhelpfully just says "cereal" and feels irrational panic starting to creep in.

"Can I help you find something?"

A teenage girl appears in the aisle, wearing an apron and a name tag.

"Uh..." He wants to say "cereal" but realizes he's standing in the cereal aisle already, and he doesn't have any more information than that. "No. No thanks."

"Ok..." she says, giving him a curious look and goes back to stocking the shelves.

After a few seconds, she stops and turns to him again, "Because.. no offense but you've kind of been standing here for like fifteen minutes."

He follows her gaze to the white-knuckled grip he has on the shopping cart and clears his throat awkwardly.

"I don't want to make any assumptions..." she continues gently "but I saw the same thing happen a while ago with a guy in here... turned out he'd just done a tour of duty in Afghanistan. He was just kind of overhwlemed, you know? Coming back here and all this..." she waves her arm in the direction of the colourful wall of cereal boxes. She sizes him up thoughtfully "You military?"

"Yeah," he answers because it's not a lie.

"Right," she says, "Well what kind of cereal do you like?"

Kyle scratches his beard and laughs helplessly, "No idea."

"Good start," the girl quips, "Uh OK... How about this..." She closes her eyes and reaches out to the shelf. The first box her hand lands on, she grabs it and tosses it in the cart. "There. Go. Be free. It's nice out, too nice to spend stuck in the cereal aisle right?"

"Yeah," he feels ridiculously relieved all of a sudden. "Thanks."

When Kyle gets back to the cabin, he finds Sarah sitting on the old wooden picnic table outside.

"I was just about to send a search party," she teases, but he can see there's real concern and relief in her eyes too.

"You can call it off," he tells her, "I got everything on the list."

"Congratualtions," she says taking some of the plastic bags from him and helping to carry them inside.

Mission accomplished Kyle thinks wryly. He can only imagine when she sends him to get something more complicated. Like a car, or one of those cell-phone devices... At least he can probably avoid going back to the grocery store for a while. Next time, the T800 goes. The image of the machine tramping through the store an a 'vital mission to obtain bread and milk', manages to bring an amused smile to his face.

They just about have everything unpacked when Sarah stops halfway through the last bag.

"Shit."

"What is it?" he asks.

"I forgot to put peanut butter on the list. Could you go back?"