I do not own Terminator.
And I can't let go of Michael Biehn yet. He just has too much heart.
No Fate
Time Keeps On Slipping Slipping Slipping Into The Future
Their time grows closer.
Or runs shorter, depending on one's point of view.
Or the time of day.
Her most recent dreams.
Simply catching sight of the man she loves.
Or . . .
"Hey, come here. Feel that?"
. . . feeling the baby kick . . .
"Wow. Is that his foot?"
. . . strong enough to be visible . . .
"I think so."
. . . to the naked eye.
"He feels . . . he feels strong."
Wondering if Kyle thinks of that 'great military leader' every time she calls the baby's existence to attention.
"Does he . . . does he . . . hurt you?"
"Sometimes. But it's okay."
She can't imagine how he wouldn't.
"Can I . . . feel him again?"
"Sure. John, say hi to Daddy."
And she still can't imagine . . .
"Wow."
. . . what that must be like for him.
"Kyle, are there many babies in the future?"
And his face is sad, drawn.
He looks down, doesn't quite meet her eyes when he speaks.
So she knows the truth, generally, before he speaks it.
"No. Not really. Not many women are able to get pregnant, survive birth. And it's hard for the babies to survive. Sickness. Disease. Hunger."
"Oh. I guess there's no baby formula in the Apocalypse, huh?"
And for a moment, she's teary-eyed all over again.
"What's baby formula?"
Voice husky.
"It's, uh, how we feed babies without breastfeeding."
"No. I'm sorry."
From the sorrowful horror choking her vocal cords.
"It's, uh, . . it's okay."
She takes a deep breath, steels herself to face another of many unpleasant truths about the dark future of Mankind.
"Gotta get used to this kind of stuff, huh?"
She'd never really thought about having babies, kids, starting a family.
White picket fence and flowerboxes at the windows.
She figured eventually, of course.
It was life after a certain point.
But it was always The Future.
After college. After some fun.
After finding the right guy.
After Life.
And now . . .
"Did you ever help, you know, . . ."
. . . that future seems very much different than the one she had only the most vague concepts of a plan of.
". . . with childbirth?"
And now it's all she can understandably think about.
"No. I was a soldier. The doctors did that."
"Doctors? They have doctors in the future?"
He smiles and it's lopsided and a little amused.
"Yeah. I mean, not like the ones in the hospital. But yeah."
She nods.
Okay. So there's doctors.
"Actually, John's, our son's, wife, is one."
Our son's wife.
He hasn't even been born yet.
"She is?"
Kyle nods.
"Katherine Brewster."
Katherine Brewster.
I don't know that name.
Of course that makes sense.
She probably hasn't even been born yet either.
Unless the Savior of the Human Race got himself a cougar in the apocalypse.
It's not as funny as it might be.
Beggars might not be able to be choosers after The End Of The World.
"Have you ever met her?"
There might not even be love anymore.
"No. But they tell stories about her. She's the only one he truly trusts. He goes to her first on everything."
Tenderness.
"She's his second in command, with him from the beginning."
Connection.
"She's tough, strong, smart."
All the things she'd wish for anyone anywhere who was any good at all.
"She loves him. And he loves her. They take care of each other."
Well, that's a relief.
"She also doesn't take any shit from anyone, including him."
Oh-
"They say he respects that about her, says she reminds him of his mother in regard."
Oh, well,- I, oh, that . . . that would be me.
I'm his mother.
And apparently I don't take any shit from anyone.
And Sarah . . .
"Do they . . . do they have kids?"
"Yes. Two. So far. They keep them hidden in a secure location."
I bet.
Savior Part Deux, I guess.
. . . tries to process all this.
"I'm a . . . we're . . . grandparents?"
Kyle chuckles.
"I . . . I guess."
And it's all too much.
The baby grows.
Sarah grows.
And the winter . . .
"Oooh. . ."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes. My back just hurts."
. . . drags on and on.
What started as beautiful white snow blanketed earth Sarah Connor had rarely been privy to, . . .
"Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah. It's just so damn cold around here."
. . . is now just isolating.
"I'll get you another blanket."
"No. That'll just make me hot."
And bitterly cold.
Nothing fits.
"Ugh, I'm not going to have anything to wear if I keep growing!"
"We'll find something."
"Kyle, you're supposed to say it's okay for me to walk around naked if I want to because I'm hot even when I'm a hundred months pregnant."
Nothing is comfortable.
"Oh. Sorry. Do you want me to say that?"
"No, it's okay. It's kind of nice that you're not a typical Neanderthal."
"Okay . . . I mean, it would be okay. Because you are."
Nothing is manageable.
"It's okay, Kyle. Really. I promise. I was just teasing you."
"Oh. Okay."
"I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't."
Except for her love for the man who stays by her side.
"It's okay. I may not always understand it. But I like you the way you are."
"Oh, you like me, do you? Well, I should certainly hope so."
"Sarah, I love you. You know that."
Even though sometimes she may not always be that manageable.
"I do. I do know that. I love you too, Kyle."
For him.
"I just . . . you know I'm . . ."
"I know."
And she tries . . .
"You do?"
"Well, I know I love you."
"I love you too, Kyle."
. . . to remember.
Not a big, heavy chapter.
Well, some bits.
But boy, upcoming . . .
;)
Thanks to DinahRay for previously reviewing!