Fic - Never a Good Day... 2/6
May. 9th, 2009 02:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cj2017Many thanks to everyone who took the time to comment on part 1. Part 2 as promised…
Never a Good Day… 2/6
Rating: Hard PG-13: copious amounts of bad language, discussion of adult themes, violence and broken bones.
Word Count: This part 3,000.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them. Wish I did.
“We’ve got company.” Derek had stopped sharply, holding his hand up to signal to Sarah not to move. She had only just seen the gesture in time, her concentration largely centered on putting one foot in front of the other, and not accidentally shooting Derek. She listened to the trees creak and bend in the wind, the rustle of something small moving urgently through the fallen leaves, and then heard the distinct crack and thud of something larger, moving in their direction. Whoever, whatever it was, was trying to be discrete and wasn’t far away.
Derek held up one finger and she nodded in agreement; she couldn’t hear a second person. The thought that their attackers were working to a strategy made her incredibly uneasy, especially when they didn’t have one themselves. By contrast, the expression on Derek’s face implied he actually preferred the idea of dividing and conquering. He moved right next to her and spoke directly into her ear.
“Do you hear the water?”
“Yes.” Every now and again, when the wind had changed direction, it had carried the rushing sound of a river towards them.
“We can head down to it. The terrain might be a little easier, more open. Maybe we can find some place to hide, wait them out and pick them off one by one.”
It was a sensible tactic and she didn’t argue. She just continued ahead when he did, relieved that Derek’s idea hadn’t involved swimming or wading, because it was taking every ounce of her strength to walk on dry land.
~ ~ ~
“Okay, we can stop and rest for a minute.” Derek handed Sarah the canteen, dropped his bag and readied the shotgun – scanning into the dark – as she drank. She didn’t speak, just held onto the water and took advantage of the unexpected respite. They had made good progress, despite weaving and doubling back in order to make it more confusing for their pursuer.
The extra effort had taken its toll, and for the last half hour Sarah had looked as if she was about to collapse. Satisfied that there was no one behind them, he stared at her, not sure exactly what was going on, plagued by a nagging suspicion that she had internal injuries she was concealing from him. He was still watching her when the cloud cover cleared temporarily to reveal a full moon, whose pale light illuminated the blood that had coated one side of her face and travelled thickly down her neck. Her dark sweater had an unnatural sheen to it and was clinging wetly to her.
“Shit, Sarah.” He touched a hand to her chest and it came away soaked.
“Hmm?” She opened her eyes, not entirely sure why he seemed angry.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were bleeding like this?” He held his palm up, slick and bright scarlet in the moonlight. “Fuck.” Shaking his head, he realized his own attempts to clean and dress the wound had probably precipitated the hemorrhage by disturbing something that had initially managed to clot. He pulled out a thick wad of gauze and handed it to her, pressing her hand and the dressing over the laceration. “You have to keep it on, tight.”
She sucked in a hiss of pain but did as she was told, unable to grasp what all the fuss was about. Now they had stopped, she felt light-headed, and decided that sitting down would probably be for the best. That made him look extremely worried; he swore again, then he was laying her back gently and lifting her feet to prop them up on his bag.
“Don’t you fucking dare pass out on me, Connor.”
Was that what she was doing? She was freezing cold and incredibly tired, but she heard the fear edging into Derek’s voice and forced her eyes to open. She took slow breaths in through her nose and tried hard not to throw up on herself as she watched him wrap a thick bandage around her head to keep pressure on the bleed. It seemed like hours but was probably only minutes before the terrible fading-out feeling began to ease. She held a hand out to him to help her sit up. He said nothing, just tucked an arm around her and gave her the canteen again.
“Drink what you can, you need the fluids.”
“Don’t I get cookies and juice?”
It took him a few seconds to place the reference – in his future, blood donation was mandatory, every eight weeks – and he laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t think it counts if we have to wring it out of your clothing.”
“Damn.”
“Do you want something to eat? There’s chocolate, trail bars…”
“I don’t think so. Not right now.”
He helped himself to a couple of pieces of chocolate and moved his hand up to check her dressing. It was only slightly wet when he pulled it away. “Here, put this on. It’ll give them less to aim at.”
She had no idea where he had found the black woolen hat, but she let him pull it over her head, to prevent the white bandage standing out like a target.
“What time do you think we’ll be missed?” His watch lit up eleven p.m.
“Not yet. Long drive home. Maybe morning. I don’t want John out here.” She gave him the canteen and motioned that they should move, motivated by the thought of preventing her son’s involvement in this current crisis.
“To the river, then.”
“Yeah. Lead on.”
~ ~ ~
“That’s a nice touch.” Derek nodded at the blood-soaked gauze that Sarah had accidentally dropped onto their trail.
“I thought so.”
For the past hour, their carefully disguised trail had become increasingly sloppy and easier to pick out. Not to the extent that the man behind would feel he was being led into a trap, but enough to lull him into thinking that he was hunting down prey weakened by injuries and consequently prone to making mistakes. They had decided that if they could take down one of the men, they would then begin the climb back up to the road and try to hijack the truck that had been abandoned there. It was the only logical course of action, and neither of them was willing to discuss the myriad ways in which it was all likely to go to shit.
They were almost at the river, glimpses of the swirling rapids and inky water appearing more frequently through the trees as the swell of its noise became louder.
“Careful here.” He indicated a boggy section of ground where the river had burst the confines of its bank after the recent heavy rainfall.
Sarah walked through, feeling icy dampness seep into her boots and shrugging it off as the latest in a long line of discomforts.
“Well, I guess we won’t be crossing that.” Derek was the first to state the obvious.
Standing side by side, they stared out across the expanse of rushing water. The water level was still high, and the river was tumbling debris along in its path and spraying a chill mist into their faces as the wind swirled across its exposed banks.
Sarah moved away first, scanning for a sheltered area where they could watch and wait and stay dry. She headed off to her left, towards a mess of rocks and boulders, and whistled a quick signal to Derek when he turned from the water to look for her.
“We should be good here. If he’s followed us directly, we’ll be able to see him for the last fifty yards or so.”
He was nodding, dropping his bag down amongst the rocks and scoping out the best view of their path.
Kicking a few small stones aside, she lowered herself to the ground, leaning back against a moss-covered boulder and closing her eyes. She didn’t feel too good. Every time they stopped, the basic survival instinct that was keeping her on her feet seemed to weaken, and all she felt like doing was lying down and going to sleep. Her arm and chest throbbed constantly, ebbing away her strength as surely as the wound on her head, which had now soaked through the third dressing that Derek had applied. She heard him move beside her and muttered a weak protest as he pulled her forward, but all he did was wrap his jacket around her shoulders; she realized then how violently she had been shivering. He pressed the water into her hand and frowned when she didn’t drink it.
“Sarah…”
She shook her head once. “I think I’ll be sick.” Setting the canteen down, she wrapped her fingers around the gun in her lap. It felt heavy in her hand. “You should go back up.”
Her voice was so quiet that it took Derek a moment to work out what she had said, and she watched him as he realized exactly what she was admitting to.
“No.”
She held her hand up, the Glock clasped in it, and he said nothing as her arm shook and she dropped it heavily to her side. “I’m slowing you down. Distracting you. I can’t even hold my fucking gun.”
“No. Way.”
“Derek, one of us has to get home.”
He stared at her, stunned, and shook his head forcefully. “I am not leaving you here, Sarah. So just drop it.” He turned away from her, lifted the shotgun and sighted it on their path. Behind him, he heard her swallow a mouthful of water, then retch quietly, and he realized with a growing sense of dread that what she was asking of him was probably their best hope of surviving.
~ ~ ~
“I think this is working.” Derek had cut most of the bandages from Sarah’s head and was sitting beside her, applying pressure directly over the wound.
“Mmm.” Her face was set in a frown as she tried to ignore the pain.
“Well, either that or your blood pressure is so shit, you just don’t have the energy to bleed anymore.”
She smiled. “Yeah. I’d go for that one.”
There had been no sign of anyone coming down their trail and, mindful of their limited options, he was taking the opportunity to regain the initiative and improve Sarah’s chances.
“You may’ve nicked an artery. I know head wounds bleed a lot, but this is ridiculous.”
“This whole situation is fucking ridiculous.”
The tension and frustration in her voice were unmistakable, so he tried to focus on the positives. “I guess we must be on the right track though, with Kaliba. Guess your three dots theory wasn’t so crazy after all.”
“Apology accepted.”
He laughed quietly, shifting his fingers as they started to cramp. “Think we’ll ever stop it?”
She looked at him and knew that he wasn’t talking about her bleeding. His face was serious, waiting for her answer and she hesitated then nodded slowly. “I have to believe that we can.”
“For John’s sake?”
“For John’s sake.” Such a simple truth, but that was what it all boiled down to. Saving humanity was a bonus, but Sarah was fighting to change her son’s fate. “I don’t remember what a normal life is. I’m not even sure that I want one. But I know that I don’t want this, and I don’t want this for John.”
So much had happened to them recently, and it had taken its toll. She sounded utterly weary, tired of hurting and being hurt and trying so hard to fight for a son whose words, when he could bring himself to speak to her, held nothing but recrimination and bitterness.
“I don’t want to lose my son.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “But he’s changing so much. Sometimes I don’t recognize him.”
“He needs to change, Sarah. If we fail, he needs to change.”
“I see him becoming your John.” She looked directly at him, daring him to challenge her. “And your John sounds like an asshole.”
He didn’t, couldn’t dispute that. The John Connor of his future was an asshole: brilliant at what he did, but completely isolated from the people he was fighting to save. It was always going to be next to impossible for Connor to make the choices that he had to; only the hardest of souls could send his own father back through time to a certain death, but Derek’s John had made emotional detachment into an art form, and was admired, but held in no affection, by the people he commanded.
Derek dropped his hand from Sarah’s forehead. He watched as a bead of blood slowly formed, and caught it before it fell, satisfied that the worst of the hemorrhage had abated. He secured a fresh dressing into place and added a thicker one on top for good measure. She smiled sadly at him when he tipped her chin with his finger, still waiting for him to contradict her.
“You’re right, y’know. My John is an asshole. Our John has an advantage, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He still has you.”
She stared at him, her throat too tight with emotion to allow her to speak. He touched his thumb gently to her cheek, then dropped his hand away, letting her know that she didn’t have to.
Picking the shotgun up, he rustled in his pack, pulling out a bar of chocolate and breaking it in half. She shook her head when he offered her a piece, but he pressed it into her hand anyway before taking a bite of his own. “I’ve been stockpiling these… just in case.”
She nibbled a tiny edge experimentally. “No chocolate after the world ends, huh?”
“No. It’s a fucking tragedy.”
He sounded genuinely devastated and she shook her head in mock despair over his choice of priorities. “Guess we’d better win, then.”
He pumped the shotgun and turned away from her. “It’s all that gets me out of bed in the morning.”
~ ~ ~
From her vantage point, Sarah couldn’t see the man cautiously making his way down their trail, but she noticed the shift in Derek’s position as he trained the shotgun on his target and waited. They were packed up and ready to move, aware that the noise they were about to make would immediately alert the second man, whose location remained concealed. She watched Derek’s finger tense on the trigger and held her breath, knowing that a man would probably die in the next few seconds, and feeling a fleeting sorrow that that knowledge didn’t impel her to prevent it from happening.
The crack of the shot made her jump, her heart thudding as she listened to the body fall.
“Stay here.” Derek was standing up, the shotgun now discarded and replaced by his handgun. He clasped it tightly in a two-handed grip, and began to edge towards where his target lay.
“Derek…” Her voice held a note of warning, unease prickling at the nape of her neck. The man wasn’t moving, wasn’t getting up, but that didn’t mean that he was dead. Metal always played dead.
“I know. But if it’s metal, we’re dead anyway. Human, he may have equipment we can use. I can dump him in the river, that way the other guy won’t know where we started back up.”
She nodded once, but dragged the shotgun towards her and fumbled one-handed to reload it. She knew that she could fire it with one hand – she had done it before – and having a ready arsenal around her had always been a comfort.
It must have been immediately apparent from the damage inflicted upon it that the body was human, because Derek gave her a quick thumbs up, then set about searching it. A stinging in her hand made her look down; she realized that her grip around the barrel of the shotgun was so tight that her fingernails had bitten into her palm, tiny crescents of blood drawn in their wake. She relaxed her hold and watched as he began to drag the body towards the river, disappearing from view as he neared the water.
Her hand twitched instinctively around the shotgun when she heard the snap of the branch, but her reactions were dulled by blood-loss and pain, and she realized too late that she would need to stand to use it. She wasn’t quick enough to reach for her Glock before it had been thrown out of her lap and a hand pressed tightly across her mouth.
“Not a fucking sound.”
The man was already pulling her up, dragging her with one of his arms across her throat and the other still clamped over her mouth. When she forced herself to go limp, he struggled with her weight, snarling with anger and kicking hard at her legs until she cooperated and staggered with him. The rough movement reignited the agony in her arm and chest, but she didn’t care; he was human and he hadn’t killed her outright, which meant that Derek still had a chance. She didn’t resist as he directed her into a tangled mess of undergrowth; she was his burden now, and she found herself fervently hoping that Derek would do the only sensible thing and leave her to her fate.
~ ~ ~
Part 3 tomorrow…
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-10 02:40 am (UTC)It gives me irrational glee when they order each other around by their last names in a vain attempt to conceal how worried they are.
It took him a few seconds to place the reference – in his future, blood donation was mandatory, every eight weeks
Nice touch.
She had no idea where he had found the black woolen hat, but she let him pull it over her head, to prevent the white bandage standing out like a target.
Aww. I feel all warm and fuzzy now. She has his hat. And nice touch on hiding the bandage.
“Derek, one of us has to get home.”
Oh, damn
Saving humanity was a bonus, but Sarah was fighting to change her son’s fate. “I don’t remember what a normal life is. I’m not even sure that I want one. But I know that I don’t want this, and I don’t want this for John.”
That's a lovely characterization for Sarah.
“Yeah. He still has you.”
*SNIFFLE*
She nibbled a tiny edge experimentally. “No chocolate after the world ends, huh?”
“No. It’s a fucking tragedy.”
He sounded genuinely devastated and she shook her head in mock despair over his choice of priorities. “Guess we’d better win, then.”
He pumped the shotgun and turned away from her. “It’s all that gets me out of bed in the morning.”
LOL! Now this is a hard fandom to work humor into, but that was beautiful!
Part 3 tomorrow…
ARGH! Evil! You're evil!
*pokes*
You better update tomorrow. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-10 08:12 am (UTC)Y'know, I only ever do the last name thing for Sarah, which is odd cos Derek's never called her "Connor" in the show, yet she's called him Reese a few times. *shrugs* I have no idea why I do that!
*g* Funny Derek.
Oh it will be done. After the family have been fed, watered and left us in peace. It's gonna get worse before it gets better y'know... *laughs*... *runs like hell*