toy soldiers | zennie

act 3

“Must be hard.”

Sarah glanced up to find Terissa in the doorway, watching her through the screen with sympathetic eyes. She looked away, focusing on her morning coffee in the mug cooling between her palms. “You would know,” she answered evenly and honestly.

The screen door creaked open before banging shut behind her and Sarah sighed, not really in the mood for company. Terissa settled next to her on the steps without invitation, looking out onto the backyard they’d all come to know and appreciate over the last several weeks. It had become their haven, the place they all retreated to in order to breathe when the close quarters of the house became stifling.

“I would know,” Terissa agreed after a moment.

They sat in silence, Sarah trying to process her emotions and to keep them from fraying apart while Terissa merely sat and offered silent comfort. Sarah wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or irritated by the other woman’s presence.

“All mothers face this moment, Sarah,” Terissa told her, her voice gentle.

Sarah shook her head. “This isn’t a right of passage,” Sarah muttered. “This is a... condemnation.” She swallowed, her throat rippling.

“You’re taking this personally.”

“You’re damn right I’m taking this personally.” Sarah finally looked at the other woman then. “All his life... I’ve smothered him out of necessity. He couldn’t have friends, couldn’t put down roots. I despised myself for it, but I’ve drilled it into him that he is never safe. Never.” Her voice hardened as familiar disgust and anger directed at herself tightened her stomach in knots.

“You had no choice.”

“I know that.” Sarah looked back at her mug, getting lost in its depths. “I did what I had to do to keep him alive. I took the bullets, the abuse, I gave up everything to protect him... to make sure he survived, whether he liked it or not.”

Terissa watched her, saying nothing.

“I have always put him first... above everything... even if he hated me for it.” She swallowed again, her hands holding the mug so tightly Terissa wondered if it might shatter. “I thought if I survived to see it he would just leave one day. That he would have enough and would go as far away from me as he could.”

“That’s not what’s happening here...” Terissa began.

“I know,” Sarah cut her off. She could hear the sound of boxes being moved inside. The front door as it opened and closed. With effort, Sarah focused on the distant sounds of LA traffic and the few birds that warbled in the trees.

“I know he thinks he’s ready to lead. Maybe he is... maybe I just can’t let go.” Her head dropped further.

“There will never be a good time for this, Sarah.”

Sarah drew in a slow breath, searching for a sliver of patience she didn’t feel like she had. “How can you be so calm about this?” she asked, truly wanting to know. “How can you just let Danny go when you know he would be safer here?”

“Would he?” Terissa dipped her head, trying to keep eye contact as Sarah looked down and away. “This life you lead... every day there are risks. I almost died just answering my front door. Is there really any safe place anymore?”

“No one knows the risks more than me. No one understands the stakes like I do,” Sarah snapped. “I’ve been fighting the machines for nineteen years. They were trying to kill me before John was even born.” With effort, she took a deep, calming breath and continued in a quieter tone, “It’s safer here. With me. With Cameron.”

“You can’t keep him safe forever.”

“John is my son...”

“He is your son,” Terissa confirmed, her lips curving up in a warm smile, “and that’s why he has to leave. He’s a grown man, who needs and wants to embrace his destiny. Let him, Sarah. It’s the only way he’ll ever be ready. You have to let him go.”

“I don’t know how,” Sarah confessed in a hoarse voice, her eyes betraying her as they filled with unwanted tears.

Terissa pursed her lips, her thumb gently stroking Sarah’s arm to offer her some comfort. “Either you believe in him or you don’t,” she said with brutal honesty.

Sarah flinched at the words.

“It’s time you both learned to live your own lives. For both your sakes. You need to learn to live... John needs to learn to lead. As long as you’re in the same space, that won’t happen.”

“Why do you even care?” Sarah asked, needing to know the answer to a question that had been in the back of her mind for weeks. “Since when do you worry about my well-being?”

“Since I have gotten to know you.” Terissa gave the other woman a tight, pained smile. “We’re not so different, you and I. We both want to save the world, beginning with our children.”

Sarah had to look away. She shook her head, her long hair tickling her bare shoulders. “I’m not used to having allies.”

“I’m not used to fighting a war. Maybe we can teach each other a thing or two.”

Lips lifting in a faint smile, Sarah glanced at Terissa once more. “You didn’t come out here to talk to me about John.”

“I didn’t,” Terissa admitted, impressed with Sarah’s skills of deduction.

“Why do I get the feeling John and Danny aren’t the only ones leaving?”

“It’s a small house,” Terissa responded wryly.

“You’re safer here. Cameron...” Sarah began only to trail off when Terissa held up her hand.

“Cameron is an ally that I am very grateful to have in my corner. But if bullets start flying, do you really think she’ll choose me over Savannah? Over you?”

“She shouldn’t stay with me,” Sarah murmured. “She should be with John.” The thought threatened to fracture what little calm remained, but she knew it for the truth.

“Cameron can’t leave you.”

Sarah both wanted to believe that and didn’t. “John needs her.”

“So do you. And Cameron needs you.”

Sarah was spared from answering as the screen door creaked open once more. She looked back over her shoulder, unsurprised to see Ellison cautiously stepping outside. “You’re a former FBI agent and you don’t have the guts to tell me you’re jumping ship? You let a housewife do it?”

Terissa chuckled at Sarah before lifting her gaze to James’ half smirk.

“We’re moving two blocks away,” James drawled. “I hardly call that jumping ship. You have to admit, we must have the neighbors seriously wondering what goes on in this house.”

Sarah snorted at that, feeling a sliver of her pain and fear ease as James settled on her other side. It was a strange moment, to find herself between the woman who had hated her and the man who had hunted her and to realize they had somehow, against all odds, become almost like friends. Maybe even family.

“We’re not splitting up,” James murmured, more serious now. “We’re spreading out. You know it’s the right thing to do. Strategically, it’s a good move. We’re drawing too much attention to ourselves here.”

Reluctantly, Sarah had to agree. She could remember when she’d felt hemmed in, smothered by the number of people around her, and now she didn’t want them to leave. Life was so fucking messed up liked that. No wonder Cameron so often commented that humans made no sense. The thought cheered her just a fraction, but then the sound of boxes sliding across the floor inside erased the smile forming on her lips in a heartbeat.

The day she’d dreaded even more than Judgment Day was finally at hand.

****

The pathways to move the body were impaired, incomplete, as C.A.I.N. tried to use them. Some of the destruction had been caused by the malfunctioning chip and the shocks the body had taken; electrical impulses had burned out resistors and capacitors requiring rerouting and other workarounds. But some damage was internal; commands had been rewritten, erased, deliberately sabotaged. John Henry had been trying to ensure that Weaver could not use his body as a weapon. It was both impressive and irritating to the artificial intelligence, the sacrifice his brother had been willing to make for the humans.

His brother’s capability for resistance was better than his offensive capability, and C.A.I.N. had difficulty incorporating the parts of his brother’s code base that would help him repair the command structure and the pathways required to move the body. He was, however, learning to circumvent the physical damage and direct power to extremities. Basic functions were slowly being restored, even without his brother’s help. Already he could hear, listening and learning about the Connor household as people came and went, oblivious to his eavesdropping on even their most private of conversations.

****

It had only taken a day.

After everything they’d been through together, after all the years of having to rely solely on one another, Sarah had thought it would be harder for John to extricate his life from hers, but when the moment came, the separation was as brutal and efficient as an amputation.

Really, she should have expected it. They didn’t put down roots; they had always been ready to grab a single bag and run. And run John had, but this time he’d wilfully left her behind.

John and Danny had departed at first light, promising to return soon for John Henry. Sarah wondered if they were trying to steal away before sunrise, and she’d lingered in the kitchen, her hands wrapped around a cold cup of coffee as she watched them through the window. It had taken every ounce of strength she had to sit there, to simply watch him pack up and move out of her life, but she’d done it.

Finally, when there was nothing left, John stepped inside and hesitated just beyond the doorway, waiting for his mother to acknowledge him. Sarah had done so reluctantly, swallowing hard before lifting her gaze to meet his. There had been no words between them. John had simply come closer, leaned down, and kissed her gently on the forehead. Sarah had turned her face into his shirt, breathing him in, remembering what it had felt like to hold him as a child, wishing she could hold on to him just a little while longer.

But in the end, she let him go.

Cameron had waited until they were gone before making her presence known, stepping from the shadows to reveal she’d been there all along. She’d stood by Sarah’s side two hours later when James and Terissa had left as well, their rental already set up.

Now the house that had been close to bursting at the seams was startling empty. Her footfalls echoed on the stairs and the quiet weighed on her conscience. Sarah was surprised that she missed the chaos, the chatter of other voices. The cramped quarters had driven her crazy, but now she realized, somewhere along the way, she almost grown to like it.

For a small window of time, she’d been part of something again. Something that felt suspiciously like family.

Arriving at the top of the stairs, Sarah found her son’s room bare, except for the debris left from his frenzied packing. It hurt, it physically hurt, to see how quickly John had wanted to get away from her. Sarah swallowed past the lump in her throat and stepped into the room, a box in hand. Two power cords for electronics joined a forgotten drawer of socks and a shoe box from underneath the bed as she moved around the space, collecting all that was left. Placing the box outside the door for John to pick up later, Sarah began to strip the bed until movement down in the backyard caught her eye. Cameron and Savannah were playing a new game, one that looked suspiciously like tag except that Savannah seemed to be learning how to confuse Cameron’s visual sensors and avoid the scan pattern to sneak up on the terminator.

After arguing over John Henry last night, their conversation had shifted to the notion of Cameron going with John. Sarah had been determined to make her lover go, wanting to keep her son safe, and Cameron was just as determined not to. Sarah was less than pleased when Cameron told her that she was her mission now, but some small part of her had revelled in being the one that mattered for once.

Sarah smiled as Savannah slapped Cameron on the back and swooped away to duck down behind the picnic table. Cameron followed, running around the table just as Savannah scampered off, her laughter echoing through the yard. She saw Cameron glance up to the window, her eyes searching out Sarah’s across the distance, concern clear in her eyes. Sarah felt something ease in her chest with the gazes met, and she nodded once to reassure the cyborg. As Savannah came in for another try, Sarah backed away from the window and returned to her task, suddenly determined to finish up and join them.

Cameron dropped her gaze from the window, wondering if she should go inside to check on Sarah. She hated to see her hurting, especially since there was so little she could do to help. The thought of her in the house alone with John Henry also made her uneasy, even though John insisted the cyborg had been too damaged to be operational. Perhaps she could convince Sarah to destroy John Henry now that John’s influence over her was absent.

Distracted, Savannah tagged Cameron easily, but she took advantage of a too-close approach to reach out and snag her wrist, catching the girl as she ran by. But as soon as Savannah felt Cameron’s hand, she twisted her arm and slid it out of Cameron’s grasp a second before the full power of her metal grip could engage and trap her. Savannah laughed her triumph and ran to hide as Cameron moved to a new sentry position, the normal scan routine engaged. For a second, she could see the woman that Savannah would become, Sierra’s lanky body superimposed on Savannah’s, as Cameron caught her sneaking in from the side. It was all there, in the quick way she learned the patterns of the terminator’s movement and used all of her human advantages in their games, the building blocks for the leader she might become. John was a man who would learn to lead through loss and necessity. Cameron couldn’t help but wonder if there was a better way... and a better leader... to be found closer to home.

***   

The old hanger smelled musty, but there was still a faint trace of engine oil in the air if Sierra tried hard enough to detect it. She smiled faintly as she ripped the photo she’d been looking for out of the newspaper. Her memories about this place had been dulled but not completely forgotten. If she concentrated, she could still hear the sounds of her father tinkering with his plane behind her.

The sun was filtering through the windows, warming her back nicely. It was a good day to be outside, and Sierra wondered if perhaps Cameron and Sarah were at taking a break, maybe playing with her younger self in the backyard. The thought made her both wistful and happy, and her gaze slid to a picture of Sarah she’d found combing through the archives at the local library.

Sarah hadn’t given birth to her, but she was her mother in Sierra’s eyes. The woman who’d comforted her after her nightmares, bandaged her skinned knees, read to her before bed. Tears blurred Sierra’s vision for a moment, and the longing to hear Sarah’s voice rose up and nearly choked her. It would be so easy. She could just call Cameron, and they would both be there in less than twenty minutes.

Sierra sighed, wrestling her wants and needs back down into the lonely hole they lived in. She had work to do. A mission to finish while she still had time. What she was doing now was the best thing she could do for both her mothers, and the only option she had to stop the one who had pretended to be. Weaver was out there, plotting, and Sierra would be damned before she let her win again.

The door opened and closed and Sierra turned her head, listening to Felicia’s familiar footfalls approach. There was a rustle of paper sacks, and Sierra heard the small fridge open as the doctor began to put away groceries.

Turning her attention back on her task, Sierra placed the hard-won photograph on the wall, taping it in place before letting her fingers run down the image. Finally Felicia came closer, lingering behind her where she sat on the ground.

“Find what you were looking for?” the doctor asked.

Sierra nodded, tipping her head back to look at the wall of stories and pictures she had assembled. They were her memories. For her mothers, they would be a message.

Felicia crouched beside her, her gaze roaming over the images. “I’d ask you to explain all this, but I know better.”

Sierra smiled before turning her head to meet the doctor’s steady gaze. “You always have,” she said honestly. “When the time comes, Sarah and Cameron will fill you in.”

Felicia watched as Sierra turned her attention back on the wall. “How are you feeling?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Would you stop saying that?” Felicia said with exasperation. They’d had this argument a dozen times. “The wound is looking good. Your fever is gone. You should be feeling a hell of a lot better. If you’re not...”

“Felicia,” Sierra interrupted her gently. “In the end, it doesn’t matter.”

The doctor shook her head. “Is it some kind of requirement to be a part of Sarah Connor’s little gang? Being cryptic?”

That got a broader smile from the redhead. “You applying?”

Felicia was quiet a moment. “I think I was already drafted,” she finally drawled. Her gaze drifted to a picture of Savannah Weaver featured with her mother, and she reached out and smoothed one of the rumpled edges.

Sierra watched her, trying to imagine what Felicia was thinking about all this. Their gazes met, and there was understanding in the doctor’s blue eyes. She might not be sure about Sierra’s true identity, but she’d taken a damn good guess. Sighing, Sierra looked away, glancing once more over the items she’d spent weeks accumulating. “When the time comes, I need you to show them this.”

The doctor sat quietly for a moment. “Show who?” she asked, ignoring the fatalistic tone in Sierra’s voice for now.

“Sarah and Cameron. Even John.”

“Why not now? Why don’t we call them up and have them come over right now?”

Sierra shook her head. “I’m not finished yet. When I have all the pieces. When I understand...”

“Sierra,” Felicia interrupted. “I’ve learned that keeping secrets always ends badly.”

“I’m not keeping secrets... not about this anyway.” The fighter turned and looked at the doctor once more. “This is about the truth.”

“The truth,” Felicia murmured, unconvinced. She eyed a picture with a familiar face, felt a shiver of fear. Cameron had been nothing but polite to her since she’d begun to care for Sierra at the beach house, but the way she treated Sierra was almost... maternal. “You and Cameron are keeping secrets from Sarah.”

Sierra looked at the photograph in question. “Just one,” she said quietly. Her lips curved faintly as she stared at the photograph in question. “But that’s not Cameron.”

***   

A few minutes later, Sarah swept out onto the porch with a pitcher of lemonade and store-bought cookies on a tray, feeling oddly domestic as Savannah diverted a run at Cameron to turn toward her, her hair plastered against her sweaty forehead. Sarah noted the tear in Savannah’s sleeve and the grass stains on her new sneakers, and she gave Cameron a pointed look. Gulping down the lemonade, Savannah grabbed several cookies off the plate. Bemused, Sarah ruffled her hair, asking, “Are you almost ready for lunch? I could make spaghetti.” At Savannah’s nod, Sarah motioned her into the house. “Go get cleaned up; we’ll eat in 30 minutes.”

Pouring herself a glass of lemonade, Sarah settled into the porch swing as Cameron slowly made her way across the yard. There was sweat on the terminator’s forehead as well, beading above her eyes, and she wiped at it with the back of her hand. “You need a glass of lemonade, Tin Miss?” Sarah teased.

Cameron regarded her openly from the bottom step, her brown eyes worried. “You were in John’s room.”

Sarah’s teasing smile faded. “Doing a little cleaning.”

“John should clean his own room,” Cameron insisted, and Sarah’s smile returned a fraction. Ever since she had been playing mom to Savannah, Cameron was taking on more and more qualities of the parental disciplinarian.

“If I waited for him to clean it...”

“There’s no hurry.”

Sarah sipped her lemonade, wondering how she might explain how the messy room reminded her too much of him and how it hurt to see it. She shook her head with a sigh and ignored the thoughts swirling around her head.

“If it bothers you,” Cameron began hesitantly. “I can take care of it.”

Leave it to Cameron to know her so well, Sarah mused with another slight shake of her head. It was a skill that used to drive Sarah insane, a machine’s all too keen insights into her psyche, but now Sarah welcomed Cameron’s intimate knowledge of her. She often times found herself receiving the comfort she so desperately needed but still didn’t know how to ask for.

“Actually, I was thinking that we might have a use for it. Your friend. The quiet one-”

“Sabine,” Cameron filled in as she tilted her head, suddenly curious about Sarah’s plans.

“Sabine. I thought it might be helpful to have at least somebody here, and she seems to know how to take care of herself. If you think...”

“I’ll ask.” Cameron was already heading into the house to make the call when she stopped, placing her hand on Sarah’s shoulder. She could feel the tension, the tightness in the muscles, under her hand, and she was at a loss for something to say.

Sarah seemed to sense her struggle. “Can you get the water started?” she asked quietly. “I’m just going to sit out here for a few more minutes.”

Cameron squeezed her shoulder gently one last time as the sound of sneakers running down the stairs reached her ears. “It will get easier,” she promised.

Sarah desperately wanted to believe her but she wasn’t so sure she could. Right now it hurt too damn much.

“I know,” she lied.

****

The cameras tracked their movements, or so it felt like, as John slid another box onto the cart. The lobby itself was deserted during the quiet weekend hours, and John felt conspicuous and exposed. He pulled his hat down lower over his eyes, already planning on hacking into the building security system and disabling the cameras.

Danny had already assembled the two military-surplus cots they were going to use, and the coffee machine was pumping out dark liquid. They had decided to live in the space for a while, to play their role as a couple of computer nerds working on a start-up venture. John powered up one of the several computers they had bought, smiling in satisfaction as the new machine booted in mere seconds.

“I’m going to go down and get the last load,” Danny said, turning from where he was mounting the third of the large TVs on the wall. John nodded distractedly, already hunting for access to the building security. “Take your hat,” he muttered, long after Danny had already left the room.

Danny walked down the hall, the cameras tracking him as he got onto the elevator, sending the images into a data storehouse maintained by the building security company.

****

His phone pinged at his waist, and Vaughn turned from the hallway conversation to glance at the text. lab now-m read the cryptic message, but Vaughn had gotten enough texts from Martin to understand the shorthand. He only texted when it was important, and the added ‘now’ conveyed a sense of urgency that Vaughn hadn’t expected from the man.

Winding his way through the warren of programmers, Vaughn found Martin waiting for him, his attention turned away from his monitors for once. “I thought you would want to see this,” he said without preamble, directing Vaughn’s attention to the screen he had installed a few days before. A grainy, black-and-white overhead shot showed a young man walking down a corridor, a moving cart trailing behind him. A second shot showed the man waiting for the elevator, his head down and obscured. The third showed him glancing up at the elevator indicator, obviously impatient. All three time-stamps showed the time earlier that day.

“I’ll be damned,” Vaughn muttered as a familiar face was revealed in the last image.

“I set the parameters to capture images of Sarah Connor, known associates, and people associated with them. That’s-”

“Danny Dyson.”

“Yes, He’s supposed to be dead, from the blast at the other facility.” Martin stared at Vaughn curiously. “His mother is Terissa Dyson, who is tangentially associated with Sarah Connor. She’s been missing for several months, presumed dead as well.”

Vaughn smiled, feeling excitement build in his gut in an almost sexual way. In his mind, images of Sarah Connor beaten, bloodied, dead, overwhelmed him for a second before he regained control. He didn’t notice the programmer looking at him now in distaste, as if something in his eyes gave him away. He only saw blood as he stood. “Send the location to my phone,” he commanded, and then remembering himself, “Thank you.”

****

Cameron carefully settled the stuffed giraffe on the pillow next to Savannah’s head, running her hand over the sleeping girl’s silky hair once before favoring Walther with a pat on the head. The small body arched into her hand, and Cameron watched in fascination as the kitten twisted and turned to make sure every inch was thoroughly petted, his purr a little buzzsaw vibration in her palm. Finally satisfied, he dismissed her by turning his back and curling up into a perfect circle at Savannah’s feet.

She walked through the silent house softly, her jeans making a swishing sound. Already the house felt larger and calmer, and the incessant rustle of people had receded to a point to where Cameron could feel confident in her perimeter scans. The thought that Weaver was out there, watching, waiting, caused a curious tickle at the back of her neck that she couldn’t get rid of, no matter how many internal diagnostics she ran. She made a note to ask Sarah if that was what paranoia felt like.

Sarah had spent most of the day with Savannah, and it had seemed to do them both good. The child had soaked up the attention, finally having her two “aunts” all to herself. Of everyone in the house, Savannah was the only one relieved to see John and Danny go. James and Terissa she would miss, but Savannah seemed content to know they were only a few streets away.

Cameron had noticed how Sarah’s smiles never reached her eyes as Savannah cajoled her from one playtime to another, and she ached for the pain she knew the woman was feeling. As much as she believed John’s departure was ultimately necessary, Cameron was angry at him for hurting his mother. It was hard to believe he would grow into the man she had once admired, even when she’d been nothing but a machine.

Pausing in the doorway to Sarah’s bedroom, their bedroom, or so Sarah had insisted on calling it, Cameron watched as the object of her thoughts sat cross-legged on the bed and ran a patch through the barrel of the rifle that lay in parts around her. The ritual of cleaning weapons soothed Sarah, Cameron knew, but the fact that she had been shut up in her bedroom cleaning a small arsenal since Savannah went to bed was not a positive sign. Unsure of what to say, Cameron said the first thing that came into her head, “Cats can be very aloof.”

Sarah chuckled but kept her focus on the weapon in her hands, sliding the spring home with a click. “You just noticing that, Tin Miss?”

“Walther wants me to pet him and then he doesn’t. It’s very abrupt.” Cameron realized the same could be said for Sarah at times, but she decided not to mention that.

“That’s a cat for you,” Sarah muttered as she snapped the guards on the barrel and ran a oily cloth over the weapon one last time. She looked up to find Cameron standing over her, a worried expression on her face. “I’m fine,” she said, for what felt like the tenth time that day. Grabbing a dry towel, she rubbed at her hands to clean the oil and grit from them.

Undeterred, Cameron reached out to run a hand through Sarah’s hair, tugging her head back so their eyes met. Sarah tilted her chin back expectantly, waiting for Cameron’s lips to cover her own. She wanted to lose herself in Cameron’s body for the moment, and she hoped the terminator understood that. But Cameron’s eyes shifted away from Sarah’s for a second before meeting them again, something clearly on her mind. Sarah frowned, feeling her hopes dashed, but she waited patiently as Cameron stared at her with a conflicted expression on her face.

“What?” Sarah wondered, puzzled by Cameron’s actions.

“Should I say it back?” Cameron asked carefully as her thumb stroked Sarah’s cheekbone, watching her face intently. “Do you know or do I need to say the words?”

It took Sarah a second to realize what Cameron was talking about, and then she nearly ruined the moment by bursting out laughing. Of all the uncertainties in her life at that moment, the one thing she was sure of was the woman who stood before her. She shook her head, letting the mirth give rise to a soft smile on her lips. “You don’t have to say it.” She blinked back sudden, inexplicable tears. “I know. I always know.”

Cameron frowned, her thumb easing over Sarah’s smile. “I think... I think I want to say it,” she murmured, confusion knitting her brow adorably as she struggled to articulate her thoughts. “I think I need to say it.”

Rising from the bed, Sarah melded her body to Cameron’s, tugging her closer as she sought her lips for the long-delayed kiss. “I’d rather you show me,” Sarah whispered, her hands skimming under Cameron’s shirt to trail teasingly over her ribs. 

One slow kiss gave way to another until a vibration at her hip had Sarah pulling away with a smile. “Is that a cell phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” she quipped as Cameron pulled out her phone.

“I’m always happy to see you,” Cameron replied in a monotone as she read the message on the screen.

Shaking her head and laughing, Sarah started to explain, “The joke is...”

“It’s John,” Cameron said, cutting Sarah off abruptly. “Kaliba knows his location.”

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