I do not own Terminator.
And I can't let go of Michael Biehn yet. He just has too much heart.
No Fate
They've put on a blood pressure cuff on her, an oxygen tube, wrapped her in a warming blanket . . .
"Please . . . please . . . tell me if he's going to be okay . . ."
. . . and are rolling her toward the ambulance.
"Kyle . . . please . . . is he going to be okay . . ."
The spinning lights are in her eyes and she's dizzy and in pain and sick to her stomach.
"Kyle . . ."
But she can see him on a gurney too, they've got an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and his eyes are closed and emergency workers are swarming him.
"Please . . . please help him . . ."
And she supposes that's a good thing, if he were just flat out dead . . .
"Kyle . . ."
. . . they would just be zipping him up in one of those bodybags no one ever wants to see.
"Please . . ."
But she still wants to scream, she wants to sit up and fight and leap up off the gurney and go to him, make sure he's okay.
"Kyle . . ."
But it's all she can do not to puke or pass out herself, she thinks they gave her something in her arm because her pain is fading away and she's barely clinging to the edge of consciousness . . .
"Kyle . . ."
. . . until she's not even doing that.
"Please . . ."
And she slips away into darkness.
Please don't let him die.
When she comes to, the room she's in is lit by a light glowing down on her from above.
She's too groggy and drowsy to reflect on the symbolism of it . . .
Turn out the sun, I'm sleeping.
. . . and instead tries to look around.
Oh God-
And only succeeds in making her head spin even more.
- I'm going to fall out of bed and die-
And she smashes every button on the call remote.
"Yes, may I help you?"
And there's a tiny voice emanating from the headboard.
"Please, help me-"
And her voice is a rasp and everything hurts.
"We'll send someone right in."
And she doesn't know which way is anything anymore.
And . . .
The door opens and it's him, him, and he's got his skin back and a nurse's cap on his head and a clipboard with a gun for a pen-
"Oh God no, don't you ever die?!"
- and the actual hospital nurses have to dose her before she hurts herself or anybody else.
"Wait, no, please, Kyle, please tell me about Kyle . . . "
And sends her back down into darkness again.
Until she wakes up the next time.
"Ugh-"
And there's someone in the room with her.
"Kyle . . ."
And it's not him.
". . . -urse, Sarah, it's alright, just relax . . ."
"Kyle, please tell me he's okay."
"I'm sorry, I don't know who-"
"Kyle! The man I came in with, he was in the factory too . . ."
Oh God, she's made him up, she's gone completely -
". . . not crazy, please, they brought him out on a gurney -"
And she's not, she's not crazy, they just. . .
". . . John Doe, yes, I'm sorry, dear . . ."
. . . didn't know his name . . .
". . . identification. Kyle, you say?"
. . . and she's flooded with as much relief as her morphine drop will allow her to feel in her mush-mouthed haze.
"Yes. Reese. Is he okay?"
The nurse manages to sound caring even as she's scribbling on pad with a scratchy pencil.
"Yes. He's still unconscious, a lot of lacerations, blunt force trauma to the chest, he may have some brain trauma . . ."
oh God-
". . . but he's stable for now."
And Sarah feels . . .
"Can I see him? Please?"
. . . almost more desperate than ever when the nurse shakes her head.
"Not yet. We have to stabilize you more-"
"Please, I need to make sure he's alright-"
"You came in with that patient, correct?"
. . . the nursing staff to let her see him.
"Yes, that's right but-"
"We're trying to get some information about him. But he has no id."
And she has to think as fast as her drug-addled mind will allow.
"Oh, uh, he's lived in one of those hippie commune up in the hills all his life. He left just a few days ago."
And she thinks she does alright.
"So he has no social security number, no insurance, driver's license-"
And she puts a desperate, claw-like hand on the woman's arm, tries to speak as calmly and clearly and politely as screaming brain will allow.
"Listen, I know you need to write all your little numbers and stuff but that man in there is very important to me. I love him. Will you please just save his life and work the rest out later?"
And it works.
The nurse stops.
Looks at her, looks at her.
"Of course, honey. That's our job here. I'll have to write him down as indigent and if he's lived in a commune all his life we'll have to assume he's never had any vaccinations and we'll have to be careful of unknown allergies. Could you at least give me his name?"
Sarah Conner bites her lip.
"Kyle. Reese."
Responds.
"Kyle Reese."
And asks, begs, her question again.
"Can I please see him?"
Yeah. I just couldn't let him die yet.
I mean, I just couldn't.
Anybody interested?
Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.