Fic - Breaking Point 2/8
Mar. 1st, 2010 11:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cj2017Title: Breaking Point (2/8)
Rating: Hard R: violence, sex, harsh language, you probably know the drill by now.
Word Count: Around 35,000 all told. This part 5000.
Disclaimer: No one seems to want these guys at the moment, so I guess they’re ours to play with. I have shamelessly pinched/cannibalised a little of the show’s dialogue.
The eagle-eyed out there might have noticed a slight increase in story-parts. I did originally break it into 7 but it made the last two sections a little lengthy so I broke those into three. Yell if you want parts posting faster/slower, whatever :-)
~ ~ ~
Breaking Point 2/8
~ ~ ~
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Sarah pushed hard against the truck door but the weight of the snow against it kept it firmly closed.
“Hold on, I’ll move out a little.” Derek was keeping a straight face, but it was an effort.
It had taken them two days to cross the state. Following a diversion to purchase a new Jeep, they had traveled in pairs. He had hoped that getting Sarah back into a Jeep would make her bettered tempered but, after two days of her scowling at every snowflake and adjusting the heat, he had started to wonder whether John had struck the better deal in terms of companion. Fixing chains to the tires for the final two-hour approach to the cabin had done nothing to enhance Sarah’s mood.
“Okay, try that.”
This time, the door opened wide enough for her to get out. Standing with her arms folded, she looked up and then turned in a full circle to take in their surroundings.
“Jesus.” She let the word out in a rush of breath.
The cabin was half-buried by immense snowdrifts. Only the presence of a sturdy porch ensured that access was actually possible. In the distance, a mountain range formed a horseshoe shape, its jagged peaks towering above a dense forest of ancient firs and pines that spread as far as she could see. When Derek made his way over to stand beside her, she surprised him by smiling.
“You okay?” Without realizing, he did exactly as she had, turning three-sixty degrees in an effort to gain his bearings. When he turned back to her, he knew why she was smiling. It wasn’t the barely conceivable beauty of the area, and it certainly wasn’t the sub-zero temperatures. She was smiling because – of all the places they had sheltered in recently – this one truly did feel safe.
~ ~ ~
Ignoring the pain across his back and shoulders, and the way the bitter cold made his face ache, Derek stood on the porch and watched the snow falling. Flakes as big as his hand drifted silently to the ground and he was briefly haunted by the image of his brother: eight years old and building a snowman as fires raged in the city.
“Hey.” The touch on his arm made him jump slightly, even though he had heard Sarah approaching. “Gonna freeze out here, or come in for something to eat?”
“I’m coming in.” He didn’t move, and she came to stand beside him.
“John’s just tweaking the tech.”
Derek nodded. John had spent the day working on their comms and anything else he thought would help Derek. He had consequently missed out on the joys of setting a perimeter and attempting to map their immediate surroundings during a blizzard.
A thought occurred to Derek and he looked warily at Sarah. “Does that mean you cooked, or the metal?”
She smirked. “I cooked.”
“Shit. Maybe I’ll freeze out here, then.”
Narrowing her eyes at him, she nudged him with her shoulder. “Even I can manage to open a can of stew and slice a loaf of bread.”
“That’s what I’m getting for my last supper, huh?”
“Yeah. Dinty Moore’s finest.”
He laughed and leaned into her briefly. “Hell, if I can survive that, Skynet doesn’t have a fucking chance.”
~ ~ ~
Derek dropped his duffel bag onto the back seat, closed the truck door and looked back towards the cabin. It took him a minute to find Sarah. She had come down from the porch, and – tucked into a pale gray ski-jacket – she was barely visible as she stared out at the mountains. At the soft crunch of his footsteps, she turned to face him.
“All set?”
“Yeah. I’ll let you know as soon as I get to the motel.”
“Okay.”
Snow still fell steadily, the clouds massing overhead thick with the promise of more.
“Don’t come for me,” he said into the silence. “If I fuck up. Don’t come for me.”
Her hood rustled as she shook her head. “I won’t.”
The fact that she didn’t deliberate made him smile. Whatever the hell their relationship was, John’s safety would always take precedence, and that was something he would never argue with. Using her glove, she wiped the snow from his face, and then kissed him quickly. Her lips were ice cold, but he felt them curl into a smile, and when she spoke she kept her mouth so close to his that he felt the heat of her words.
“So try not to fuck up.”
He laughed quietly and she squeezed his hand. By the time he had started the truck’s engine, she had already gone back inside.
~ ~ ~
“Morning, Kari.”
“Morning, darlin’. Coffee?”
Derek nodded, sliding onto a stool at the diner counter and then wrapping his hands around the freshly-poured mug of coffee to warm them.
“Oh hey!” The waitress wiped the already-sparkling counter with a damp cloth and dropped a menu in front of him. “I might know someone looking for a handyman. I hope you don’t mind, I passed your name along. Told him you usually hang out here early morning.”
“That’s great. Thanks.”
Derek’s enthusiasm wasn’t feigned. The tiny town of Whitewater had one bar, one diner, a general store, and a whole lot of snow. His motel television picked up three channels on a good weather day and they hadn’t had any of those. The diner on Main Street was the hub of what passed for a town center. It had been easy for him to sell a basic back-story of lost love and unemployment, and then ask Kari to keep her ear to the ground for anyone requiring casual labor. After four days of being holed up with nothing but two tattered paperbacks and the internet for company, any job would provide a welcome diversion.
Kari chattered on as she filled sauce bottles. “His name’s Pete Jenkins. Lives on the west edge of town. Friendly like…” she trailed off as if that was a point she wasn’t actually certain of now she considered it. “Anyway,” she beamed at Derek. “He said he’d call in this morning sometime. So, what you havin’?”
“Sausage and pancakes.” He handed the menu back, returned the waitress’ smile and tried not to wince when she turned to yell her order at the short-order cook.
“It’ll just be a few minutes.” As she topped his coffee up, her eyes widened. “Oh, say, did you hear about Tom Ross?”
He shook his head. He had never even heard the name, but apparently this gossip was too good to be restricted by his lack of familiarity with the man involved, and Kari surged on regardless.
“Emmett, the Sheriff, was in here yesterday. Said the brakes on Tom’s old truck finally gave out and he skidded into a tree! Can you believe that?!”
“No. No, I can’t.” Derek genuinely was struggling to believe that, because Sarah had already told him that Cameron had tampered with the man’s brakes. The only thing he hadn’t known was the name of the man whose truck had been sabotaged and the injuries that had been caused.
With Derek’s emailed assistance, Sarah had drawn up a rough plan of the houses and ages of the town’s residents. She had then worked on probabilities. Within two days, the man Kari had identified as Tom Ross had been observed leaving town in the early morning before being picked up on the outskirts by an unmarked van.
“Here you go, honey.” Kari set Derek’s plate down but didn’t seem keen on pausing for breath. “It’s just too awful, Tom broke his arm and his leg. They had to airlift him to the hospital. He’s still there now. Oh, almost forgot, here’s your knife and fork…” She produced the cutlery with a flourish, using it as a finale to her rendition and leaving him to eat in peace.
Derek poured syrup liberally over his pancake stack. The food at the diner was excellent, but there was something about Sarah’s crappy, half-cremated, malformed but always well-intentioned pancakes that he genuinely missed. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. He swallowed a mouthful to hide his smile and was about to ask Kari for more coffee when a man pulled up a stool next to him and nodded a greeting.
“You Mike?”
Derek nodded in affirmation.
“Pete Jenkins.” Zoe’s father held out his hand for Derek to shake. “Kari tells me you’re looking for work.”
~ ~ ~
The ax split the log cleanly and Derek collected the pieces to add to the stack. It was a large stack. After two days of back-breaking labor, his blisters had blisters and he was beginning to wonder whether their infiltration strategy was actually going to be feasible. The presence of Jenkins confirmed that Kaliba were operating somewhere in the area, but, following Tom’s unfortunate accident, the unmarked van had not been seen again. Attempting to track Jenkins, and risk tipping off their only lead, had been delayed until there were no other options remaining. Although she hadn’t said as much, Sarah was placing the success of their mission firmly in Derek’s hands. Hands that had oozing wounds and absolutely no insight into the location of Kaliba’s research facility.
He swung the ax again, hit his target, and watched the wood fly apart.
“Getting the hang of it, huh?”
Derek spun around. Jenkins was leaning on the railing of his porch holding a bottle of beer, already uncapped and half-empty, and proffering a second at Derek. Knocking the ax lightly into the chopping block, Derek walked over to the cabin.
“Thanks.” The bottle alone felt wonderful against the raw skin on his palms.
“Almost done.” Jenkins gestured at the remaining wood pile. “Quicker than I thought you’d be.”
“Yeah.” By Derek’s calculations he only had another half-day of work left.
“Got anything else to go to?”
“No.” Derek kept his voice casual. “Unless Kari’s managed to set something up for me.”
Jenkins drank the remaining half of his beer, and then nodded. “She said you were ex-military.”
“Yeah.” Derek used his own beer to ease the sudden dryness in his mouth. Jenkins was staring at him intently, and Derek slowly realized that two days of hard labor had quite possibly acted as a protracted job interview. It would also have given Jenkins plenty of time to dig into his background and credentials. Derek knew that he had nothing to fear in that regard; John had spent days creating a new identity and history, and his work had been flawless.
“Finish up here.” Jenkins took a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Derek. “If you’re interested in something more permanent, pick-up’s at five a.m.” Without waiting for Derek to respond, he went back into his cabin and closed the door.
Derek smoothed the paper out. It was a small-scale map of the town with a black X marking a location on the southern outskirts. The paper was official company stationery bearing the heading Deacon Research & Development. His heart pounding, he put the map into his pocket, took hold of the ax, and forced himself to keep working.
~ ~ ~
Sarah snapped her cellphone shut and dropped it onto the bed. After days of relative inactivity, Derek’s news that things seemed to be working out as they had intended should have come as a relief. They still needed confirmation, of course, but she knew in her gut that she had been right: that the company quietly operating out here in the middle of nowhere had links to Kaliba. She didn’t feel relieved. Instead, there was only the same unsettling sensation she had felt in Charm Acres. The tiny prickles of fight-or-flight adrenaline that made her want to arm herself to the teeth and flee with John somewhere so far away she could be certain that no-one would ever find him.
She rubbed a hand across her forehead where it was starting to ache. Two years ago, she had made her son a promise. A promise to change his future and the future of the human race by destroying Skynet. It had been her decision to fight, but she had now led John into remote, unfamiliar and inhospitable terrain with the very real possibility that Skynet was deeply entrenched nearby, and every instinct she had was screaming at her to run.
Outside the wind howled, clattering snow against the windows. Further snow-storms and low cloud were forecast for the week ahead. Sarah shivered despite the warmth of the cabin. She could hear John typing in the adjoining room, and knew that he was working to create a virus they could use to disable the facility’s computers and destroy the data they held. She pushed herself to her feet and went in search of Cameron.
~ ~ ~
Cameron was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by the contents of their medical kit. As she identified each item, she set it aside and made a note documenting its usage and appropriate dosage in a small pad. The machine didn’t need the instructions, but there was no guarantee that she would be the one left standing to administer the drugs, and she was nothing if not thorough.
“Not very optimistic, are you?” Sarah had been watching her work for a couple of minutes, surprised by the amount of supplies they had at their disposal.
“No,” Cameron answered frankly, without looking up. “Based on your recent history, I have calculated an 80-90% probability that injuries will be incurred before the completion of this mission.” She piled six IV bags of saline together and recorded them in impeccable handwriting. “Fractures, bullet wounds and lacerations requiring sutures are the most likely.” Narrowing her eyes, she studied Sarah carefully as if attempting to deduce exactly where the most damage would occur. But when she finally did speak, her voice was soft. “You’ve been hurt a lot.”
“Yeah.” Sarah couldn’t really argue with that.
“Humans are quite breakable.”
“We are.” Pushing a box of dressings out of the way, Sarah perched on the edge of the sofa and took a deep breath. “I need you to make me a promise.”
“John.” It wasn’t a question.
“John,” Sarah confirmed in an undertone. “If…” She sighed and rolled her eyes but persevered with her blatant disregard for their current batting average. “If it all goes to shit, you get him and you get the hell out. I don’t care whose orders you’ve come here to follow. You follow that one to the letter. Understand?”
There was no hesitation. “I understand.”
“Be sure that you do.” Leaning forward, Sarah took stock of the varied drugs amassed in front of her. “Jesus, Cameron, was there anything you didn’t steal from the jail?”
“Oxygen cylinders,” Cameron answered immediately. “I thought they would be more useful as an accelerant in the fire.” Pausing for a moment, she considered her inventory. “And Pepto-Bismol.” She looked up at Sarah, her face deadly serious. “Nothing that pink could possibly be beneficial.”
~ ~ ~
Blowing on his hands to try to warm them, Derek stared out into the darkness and cursed quietly. He had been at the pick-up point early, but it was now twenty minutes past the time he had been given, and he was on the verge of returning to the motel. If this was another one of Jenkins’ tests, Derek was resigning himself to failure.
Having made the decision to leave, he was stamping his feet to restore feeling to his toes when the van rounded the corner. It was white and barely visible against the snow as it pulled to a stop in front of him. Blacked-out windows prevented him from identifying the driver. The side-panel soundlessly slid open. Hauling himself on board, Derek took a seat and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. There were no windows, no way to see in or out, and he was the only person in the back. The truck was already moving, smooth and steady on the snow-covered road. With a quick glance at his watch, he closed his eyes and concentrated.
After the machines, after the bombs, Derek and Kyle had survived by learning how to hide. The vast network of tunnels underlying the cities had become home, and those who stayed alive and out of the camps had done so by learning that network. Those who failed to master the complex system of shortcuts, access points and traverses that dipped far below Skynet’s radar were rounded up or summarily executed. Consequently, mapping a route, even one without landmarks, was something which Derek excelled at. By timing the turns, noting the length of time traveled in a particular direction and estimating their approximate speed, he was able to memorize the sequence of the journey. It was by no means an exact science, but he knew he would be accurate enough to get Sarah within a few hundred feet of his destination.
He opened his eyes as the truck slowed and came to a complete stop. The driver spoke briefly and then accelerated again, the tires clattering on metal before the road began to descend. Derek felt his pulse speed up. Outside the van he could hear the rush of turbines circulating an artificial atmosphere, and the tires now rumbled on concrete. Whatever Deacon Research and Development was involved with, their complex was large and well-funded, and a substantial section of it had been built underground.
~ ~ ~
It had not been Pete Jenkins driving, but it was he who slid the van’s side door open and nodded as Derek blinked in the sudden glare of artificial light.
“I’ll show you around,” he said, without preamble. “If you’re okay with what we want you to do, I’ll get you a copy of your contract.”
“Great.”
As Jenkins set off walking, Derek fell in beside him. Above them, neon strip lights ran along the ceiling of a concrete tunnel wide enough to accommodate a path marked for pedestrians and a single-track road. The road was deserted, the van having left the minute Derek had stepped out of it.
“So, what exactly is this place?” Derek knew that not asking questions was going to look as suspicious as asking too many. Every fifty feet, a wall-mounted security camera flashed a red light in recognition of their presence and slowly rotated to follow them as they moved past.
“The company works in tech development, mainly.” Jenkins swiped a card at a door and pushed it open when the automatic lock blinked green. “Some private contracts, some military.” He smiled without humor. “Hell, I only work here, right?”
Derek didn’t react outwardly to the mention of military involvement, laughing instead in what he hoped was a yeah I know that feeling way. “Right.”
Jenkins had stopped in front of a bank of monitors. Each screen was divided into six, with each section bearing a code and a good quality live-feed from the cameras which were obviously strategically placed within the complex. A separate collection of screens displayed images from the exterior. They gave Derek his first glimpse of security measures he hadn’t been privy to on his way in: wire-mesh perimeter fences, a gated and guarded vehicle access point, and, possibly the most effective and simple of deterrents, a seemingly endless wilderness covered in snow.
“You heard about Tom Ross?”
“Yeah,” Derek tried not to stare too intently at the monitors. “Kari mentioned he’d had an accident.”
“He worked security here. If you want it, his job’s yours till he gets back on his feet.”
On the third screen from the left, something was moving. It dwarfed the figure standing observing it, and slowly began to rise into the air. Derek tore his gaze away as the main thrusters of the HK prototype swiveled before locking into place. He nodded at Jenkins, keeping his expression blank, his voice betraying nothing but gratitude for the opportunity of employment.
“Yeah,” he said. The HK hovered in his peripheral vision. “I want it.”
~ ~ ~
“Anything from Derek?” John watched as his mother quickly flicked between the two browser windows she had open on the laptop. One deft keystroke and a news report was exchanged for a page headed Wilderness Bob’s Guide to Surviving in the Snow.
Sarah shook her head in response to John’s question, knowing damn well that he hadn’t been fooled by her sleight of hand. When he took the mouse and opened the minimized page, she stared out of the window and let him read it.
“Mom…”
“I know.”
The report featured the reopening of another wing at the LA County Jail and the laying of a plaque for those who had lost their lives during the T-888’s rampage.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that,” she said, her voice tight.
“Doesn’t make it any easier, though, does it?”
She looked up at him and saw her own guilt mirrored on her son’s face.
“John.”
“You were only there because of me. You got hurt, all those people died because of me.”
She gently lifted his fingers from the mouse and shut the report down. He had lost weight and his hand felt thin and frail in hers, but his grip was strong for the few seconds he allowed himself to hold onto her.
“We fight or we die, John,” she said, when he pulled away. “And I’d do it all again.”
His face lost a little of its tension, but his eyes were hollow, and she wondered how long he’d been having the nightmares for. Even as a child, he had never cried out when the monsters hunted him in his sleep. Being out here, with the monsters practically next door, was obviously taking its toll.
“Staring at this won’t make things happen any faster.” She forced brightness into her voice and pushed her chair out from under the desk. “You hungry?”
He shrugged, and then acknowledged the effort she was making and managed a smile. “Unless you’re cooking…”
“Well, I was thinking less of a meal and more of hot dogs and candy.”
This time his smile seemed genuine.
“Now you’re talkin’…”
~ ~ ~
The shifts lasted for twelve hours, with a rotating pattern of days and nights. Derek adjusted to his schedule without difficulty; he could sleep propped up in a bunker with the apocalypse raging around him, so sleeping through the daylight posed him no problems at all. Fitting in with his colleagues was just as straightforward. Jenkins preferred to keep his own counsel, answered any queries in monosyllables, and spent most of his time patrolling the complex, leaving Derek to watch the monitors.
Al Carey was the polar opposite. Over six feet tall with a bellowing laugh, Carey liked to swap tales of drunken debauchery while sitting in front of the monitors and drinking protein shakes. He was more than happy to leave the foot-work to Derek, and after only three shifts Derek was able to map out an accurate plan of the facility’s central sections. By reconciling the route he patrolled with the areas screened on the monitors, he knew exactly which of the locked doors housed the flight test spaces, which concealed the manufacture of the machinery, and which contained the research laboratories. He knew that the factory was completely automated and that the only other people who worked at Deacon were scientists and engineers. He knew that there were three of those and that they lived within the facility, and on his fourth shift he walked past one whose face he recognized.
~ ~ ~
“Danny Dyson is here.”
Derek’s voice crackled and broke as the phone line strained under the weight of the snow pressing down on it, but Sarah heard his statement clearly enough. She felt as if a load had been lifted from her, finally having confirmation that Danny was alive, that they had a chance to free him and then erase any information that Kaliba might have forced from him.
“Do you know where he’s being held? We have to get him out of there.”
There was a pause. A silence filled with static and the sound of Derek clicking something uneasily.
“That’s just it,” he said eventually, and his tone told her that the pause had been of his own making and not due to the weather. “He’s not being held.”
“So, they leave him free to work? He can’t exactly escape to anywhere, can he?” The questions tumbled after each other, as if she was afraid to leave an opportunity for Derek to answer her. She couldn’t allow him to contradict her, because the alternative to her scenario was simply unthinkable.
“No.” For one brief second she was able to hope that he was agreeing with her, but he shattered that illusion in his next breath. “He’s not a prisoner, Sarah.”
She closed her eyes slowly, feeling sick. “Are you sure?” She had to ask, but she knew he wouldn’t have said anything unless he was absolutely certain of his facts.
“I’m sure.”
He told her then. Told her how he had watched Dyson working in the research laboratories. That he would play host to the military personnel who arrived to review their progress and that the other employees seemed to defer to him. Derek described the way that Dyson would stand beside their computers and point out errors to be corrected, or speak, his hands moving in an animated fashion, as they sat and listened and then made adjustments to their work.
“If anything, it looks like he’s running the project.” Revulsion dripped from Derek’s words, echoing Sarah’s own reaction. For years they had been aware of the devastation Skynet promised. They had fought and suffered to prevent that promise from becoming a reality. Miles Dyson had sacrificed his own life to destroy the work that would create Skynet. And now Miles’ son seemed to be doing his utmost to reverse his father’s actions.
“Son of a bitch,” Sarah whispered. “Did he let them murder his own fucking mother?”
“I don’t know.” Derek took a deep breath and she could hear how weary he was. “I hope not.”
She didn’t need to say anything else. To state that Danny Dyson’s life was forfeit was unnecessary.
“Get some sleep,” she said.
He agreed quietly and then hung up.
~ ~ ~
Dropping to her knees, Sarah quickly dug out a body-length trench in the snow and lay on her front in the hollow. She had moved beyond cold, settling somewhere in the region of uncomfortably numb, and she welcomed the shelter from the biting wind that the trench walls provided. At either side of her, John and Cameron had done the same, shielding themselves from view and fixing their eyes straight ahead.
There were two layers to the fence surrounding Deacon Research and Development. Set three feet apart, the barriers of wire mesh rose six feet above the snow, but a visual appraisal by Cameron had confirmed they were not electrified or alarmed. Although it would be awkward and potentially time-consuming to cut through, the perimeter was certainly not impenetrable.
“This entrance would give us the closest access to the computer labs.” John traced a finger across the map Derek had emailed to them. “We head there with the virus. You and Derek set the explosives here… and here.”
“Which would take out the test spaces, the coltan dump and the factory.” Sarah was nodding, trying to gauge the time they would need, their most probable point of exit, and how and where they would be able to regroup.
It had taken them all day to hike approximately a third of the way around the facility. It wasn’t that the complex was particularly expansive, but the fence cut a wide perimeter and the snow had hampered their attempts to progress with any kind of speed. There was an obvious strategy, but it wasn’t one that John was going to like.
“We’ll have to split up,” Sarah said, trying to protect the paper in John’s hand from the snow that had just started to fall. “You upload the virus and come back through the fence. The truck is only two klicks away from here. You’d be clear before we were finished. Derek and I wire the C4 and use one of their vehicles to exit via their access road.”
“I don’t know, mom.” John’s eyes were fixed on the concrete and steel structure now barely visible through the snow and the failing light. “Splitting up…” He shook his head and looked across at her, a thousand what ifs stark on his face.
“Destroying the data is the most important thing, John. That virus has to take priority. Getting rid of the metal and the factory is just a bonus.” She folded the map, her eyes cast down to hide the lie in them. She wanted it all gone, every part of Kaliba and Skynet obliterated, and all those who had collaborated with them dead. If there had been any possibility of her and Derek achieving that, then John wouldn’t have factored into her plans at all. As that was simply unrealistic, her absolute priority was ensuring that her son got in and out of the complex long before the bullets started to fly.
~ ~ ~
TBC…
~ ~ ~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 04:12 am (UTC)Heehee...“Nothing that pink could possibly be beneficial.” LOL.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 03:25 pm (UTC)We do have calpol, which is for kids and is quite pink. But it's also strawberry flavoured and, when I was young and the stuff was still full of sugar, very delicious.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 06:29 pm (UTC)Hey, I remember that stuff. My mom gave it too me when I was young. When we moved back to the States I remember wishing that my parents had brought some back with them. Best tasting cure-all I've ever had.
Regarding that vile pink stuff... I prefer remaining ill than to repeat the experiece of Pepto-Dismal. *shuddering*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 09:58 am (UTC)Delicious stuff! My mum was always "one for you" "one for mummy!"
We give it to kids on the ambos now and the smell... I always have to remind myself that it really would not be professional to lick it off my gloves ;-)
Danny Dyson...
Date: 2010-03-02 03:57 pm (UTC)I like your path... thanks for illuminating the way.
Re: Danny Dyson...
Date: 2010-03-03 09:57 am (UTC)Thanks for commenting :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 04:09 am (UTC)“So try not to fuck up.”
“Pete Jenkins.” Zoe’s father held out his hand for Derek to shake. “Kari tells me you’re looking for work.”
Derek collected the pieces to add to the stack. It was a large stack. After two days of back-breaking labor, his blisters had blisters and he was beginning to wonder whether their infiltration strategy was actually going to be feasible. The presence of Jenkins confirmed that Kaliba were operating somewhere in the area, but, following Tom’s unfortunate accident, the unmarked van had not been seen again. Attempting to track Jenkins, and risk tipping off their only lead, had been delayed until there were no other options remaining. Although she hadn’t said as much, Sarah was placing the success of their mission firmly in Derek’s hands. Hands that had oozing wounds and absolutely no insight into the location of Kaliba’s research facility.
“John,” Sarah confirmed in an undertone. “If…” She sighed and rolled her eyes but persevered with her blatant disregard for their current batting average. “If it all goes to shit, you get him and you get the hell out. I don’t care whose orders you’ve come here to follow. You follow that one to the letter. Understand?”
On the third screen from the left, something was moving. It dwarfed the figure standing observing it, and slowly began to rise into the air. Derek tore his gaze away as the main thrusters of the HK prototype swiveled before locking into place. He nodded at Jenkins, keeping his expression blank, his voice betraying nothing but gratitude for the opportunity of employment.
“Well, I was thinking less of a meal and more of hot dogs and candy.”
She didn’t need to say anything else. To state that Danny Dyson’s life was forfeit was unnecessary.
TBC...
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 10:36 am (UTC)That's what comes from early morning conversations with Roxy. "I need some crappy canned food stuff from your good country..." "well, we have Chef Boyardee or Dinty Moore..." "Dinty Moore? Awesome!" Heh. This is me, doing research *g*
Aww, that's one of my favourites. It just came out right. I don't think they know what the fuck is going on between them, but they know it's never going to get in the way of the mission.
More research! Cat: "you don't wear gloves to chop wood. They'd fly off and the axe would chop someone's head off." Me: "You are so cool."
He seems like an honest, straight-up kinda guy to me, living in the middle of nowhere, away from his family... with an assumed name... ;-)
I've been OD-ing on Season one lately. I wanted to write S1 J/S cos I just don't see the point of what they did to them in S2.
Head between your knees, come on, you know the drill :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 04:43 pm (UTC)Late notes...
Date: 2010-06-14 12:48 am (UTC)Leather work gloves with the cinch across the back of the hand work just fine for winter tool use.
T.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-08 08:43 pm (UTC)“If I fuck up. Don’t come for me.”
“I won't.”
This is what makes your Sarah and Derek work so well for me. They might take advantage of having the house to themselves for a few hours, but you never let let them — never let us — forget what they're about.
“Based on your recent history, I have calculated an 80-90% probability that injuries will be incurred before the completion of this mission.”
heehee. Good ol' Cam.
She looked up at him and saw her own guilt mirrored on her son’s face.
“We fight or we die, John,” she said, when he pulled away. “And I’d do it all again.”
his eyes were hollow, and she wondered how long he’d been having the nightmares for. Even as a child, he had never cried out when the monsters hunted him in his sleep. Being out here, with the monsters practically next door, was obviously taking its toll.
That whole scene between Sarah and John is just beautiful. I love the emotional connection there and how she sees his guilt, recognizes the nightmares in him and shares her strength.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-09 08:58 am (UTC)Heh. Thank you. I can imagine Sarah Connor in snow gear. She's got a proper pissed off look on her face and it makes me giggle ;-) She's definitely not a cold weather person.
Too right. I can't see them cuddling or snuggling or going out on a date. And, if the circumstances ever warranted it, I can see Sarah taking John and disappearing and Derek letting her - no missing person reports, no doorstep pleas, no persistent offers to help. Because that's just the way the two of them roll.
*laughs*. I guess Cam's been reading my back catalogue...
Kinda happened by accident that scene, but I was very happy with the way it turned out :-)