Like Son, Like Father

by Kath Tate, Copyright 2000

Disclaimer: The Terminator and characters are the property of James Cameron. This story does not intend to infringe on any copyright.

Kath's notes: It's pretty bad when you have to explain your story, but I feel the need to mention that I have not seen T2, and therefore I recognize that events of that film might completely blow this scene from possibility. When I saw Terminator I was struck by the idea that John Connor knew who Kyle was without Kyle fully realizing his own importance. I also found it intriguing that John would have been more of a father figure to Kyle, rather than the other way around, given their age difference.

It is my belief that Connor sent Kyle back knowing full well Kyle was to be his father because of what Sarah had told him. (I also think that if the "bad guys" hadn't sent a terminator back forcing the rebels to send a protector, then their goal of having John not exist would have been realized - ironic, in a way.) I spent many a late evening debating these points with Sheena. ;-) If the second movie shatters these ideas, my apologies and I hope you can enjoy the story anyway. I originally thought to do a series of scenes like this one, from both their points of view, but this was the only one to come out.

*****

It seemed to John Connor that life was full of milestones. They stood apart from every day, like beacons of memory with light casting shadows in a mixture of joy and sorrow. When contemplated, they could conjure up emotional responses as real as what was felt at the time. John's life was filled with such memories, so much so that the lines between past and future blurred. This indistinction made him wonder sometimes if what he remembered had actually happened or whether it was merely a thread in the oral tapestry of his destiny.

So many of his milestones had been based on vague information his mother used to prepare him for what was to come and what he was to be. There were scant moments for despair or resentment of the burden she'd placed on him. Why was he indulging in both those feelings now?

Generally, John didn't like to dwell too much on his actions or decisions might affect a future told to his mother before his birth. He didn't want to ponder the multitude of fractures in that timeline he may have already caused. His continued existence was enough reassurance to him that what was important was still on track. His existence and that of the ever dwindling human population. He never once took for granted that they would ultimately prevail. Outwardly his determination never faltered, giving him a confidence that he unknowingly radiated. Yet inwardly he occasionally worried about the impact that the time travel had on the outcome of their rebellion.

It was enough to give anyone a headache. He pushed his morose thoughts to a tiny corner of his mind while trying to refocus on his team leaders' reports.

The reports were grim, for the most part, with one glowing exception. Someone on Perry's team had somehow managed to get close enough to an ammunitions dump to blow the arsenal sky high and yet still survive the blast.

"Uncanny sense of timing or just dumb luck, I don't know which, John," Perry said, shaking his head.

"The rest of the unit?" asked John.

"He got 'em all out too. Just a few scratches."

"I think I'd like to meet this young man," John told Perry with a wry smile. "Maybe we could get his luck, and his skill, to rub off on a few others."

Perry agreed and moved away to locate the hero of the day. John felt his depression begin to seep back to the forefront in the quiet of Perry's departure. It was never truly quiet, he realized. Not like he knew it could be.

There were so many things he could think of that had changed since the war. Likely the young man Perry had gone to collect had never know true silence. Never walked on the beach in sunshine. Never played in the waves or built a sandcastle. Never thrown a ball or watched a game. His entire life had been spent fighting for survival.

'What will we truly have gained?' wondered John. 'If an entire generation knows nothing of life except to be alive? Will it be worth it?'

A shuffling sound caused him to turn. Perry must have found his man.

The soldier stood with a weariness that was evident by his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. They were about the same height but the younger man was made smaller by his posture. Fair haired, fair skinned, John noted, despite the grime and dirt that covered the tired face. Blood too, as John frowned to see a large gash on the other man's chin. 'That must be what Perry considers a scratch,' he mused.

"What's your name, soldier?" he asked gruffly, slightly peeved that Perry had disappeared again.

"Reese, sir," responded the young man, attempting to come to attention. Because he kept his gaze lowered he completely missed the effect stating his name had on his leader.

For a moment John couldn't speak. His mouth had gone dry and his knees were so weak he felt an urge to sit down. Instead he slowly circled Reese, trying to collect his thought. Impossible! He might as well have tried to collect a storm's worth of raindrops in his now trembling hand.

"You gotta first name, Reese?" he asked, more gently this time, suddenly glad Perry had made himself scarce.

"Kyle, sir," responded Reese softly after a pause.

John completed his circuit and stared frankly at Reese. Everything his mother had ever told him about his father, and she'd told him repeatedly, was flitting across his mind. And to suddenly have him standing there...alive...and young. My God!

As the silence between them grew John saw the young man glance up at him for a second before returning his eyes to fix on a neutral spot. Quick as the glimpse was, he hadn't failed to notice the wariness and confusion in those eyes. He smiled and then said proudly, "You did very well today, Kyle Reese."

Reese almost flinched at the praise.

"I did what I had to do," he stated. "Jus' lucky I didn't get myself killed doing it."

"Was it luck that got the unit out?" asked John sounding amused. When Reese didn't respond John reached out to lift the young man's chin so that he was forced to meet his eyes.

"You did very well today, Kyle Reese," he repeated firmly. John was pleased to see Reese hold his gaze even when his hand dropped away. It occurred to him that at this point Kyle's survival was more important than his own.

"There's something I want...I need for you to do for me," John said forcing himself not to turn away from the hero worship now evident in Kyle's expression. He had to ensure this message was heard and he'd even exploit admiration to do it.

"Anything, sir," Kyle said and John believed him. He placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Stay alive, soldier," he commanded, squeezing gently. Kyle's tired face changed from veneration to bewilderment in an instant.

"I thought that was already the goal," he said, perplexed, adding a hasty, "sir."

John burst out laughing then, with more hope in his heart than he'd felt for some time. One simple statement from a young earnest soldier and suddenly his earlier despair was banished. He continued chuckling at the amazement so plainly displayed on Reese's - on his father's - features.

"So it is, Reese, so it is. Thank you for reminding me."

Reese nodded slightly in acknowledgement, still looking as though John was slightly mad. And maybe he was. Maybe he was. That only made John chuckle some more.

"May I..." Reese hesitated. "May I speak, sir?"

"Yes, please do. By all means," John encouraged. He was fascinated by the prospect of finally speaking with Reese.

Reese slowly shook his head. "Well, no disrespect intended, sir, but you...you're not quite what I expected."

John's face broke into a wide genuine smile, an expression of joy which filled his eyes even as they misted with tears.

"This probably won't make any sense to you, Kyle, but neither are you. Now, let's get some water to clean that chin of yours."

*****

Kyle was propped up against a wall contemplating the likelihood of finding some water to clean off the wound on his chin. Given the chances of that option he was seriously considering just finding a spot to crash and sleep off his exhaustion. Both options required him to move, however, and that was something he knew he didn't want to do just yet.

The adrenaline rush of the raid was long gone, leaving him tired and achy, with a throbbing chin and a heavy heart. He found fear and pain to be feelings more easily controlled in the heat of battle than in the calm of the aftermath. He cursed his fatigue for preventing him from finding some useful purpose that might have distracted him from those emotions.

When Perry found him, Kyle was in a half doze, still seeking an option besides just sliding down the wall.

"Hey Reese!" Perry jerked his thumb in a direction behind him. "Connor wants to see you."

'I'm dreaming,' thought Kyle. 'I've fallen asleep where I stand and I'm dreaming.' He gaped at Perry, unable to form a coherent response to this unlikely situation.

"Don't stand there gawking, boy, get going!" Perry ordered, with the annoyed impatience that was his signature mannerism.

Kyle shut his mouth immediately, ignoring the stinging sensation that dropping his jaw had shot through the cut on his chin. He managed to force his steps in the direction of Perry's gesture, his mind reeling with all that had happened today. He wondered why Connor had asked for him. Had he done something particularly stupid? Was there some reason why the 'munitions dump should have been left intact?

Kyle knew John Connor, of course he did. He'd been on missions that Connor had organized, he'd heard briefing reports from the man, he'd even been witness to a couple of rallying speeches. If he thought about it clearly, something he was not really doing at the moment, he might have said that Connor was personally responsible for Kyle's escape from the camp; as surely as if the man had leaned over the wire to grip Kyle's arm and haul him to safety.

But the reality was that Kyle had never spoken to his leader and hero. He'd always been just another face in the crowd, a member of the team, one among many. Connor hadn't even been at the camp from which Kyle had escaped. It was Connor's message, his determination and resourcefulness, that had inspired Kyle and others to break free.

Kyle knew of no reason Connor would seek him out personally and he was too tired to worry more on it now. Truth be told, he'd rather not think on it.

Kyle found Connor in an alcove off the main corridor, standing sideways to the entrance and staring intently at the wall. As Kyle approached he examined the direction of Connor's intense gaze but could see nothing unusual about the section of rough concrete. Looking back at Connor's expression Kyle noted the distant and almost sad look, and decided that whatever his leader was seeing, it was not on the wall.

Not wishing to disturb the other man, Kyle contemplated retreat, but his movement caught Connor's attention and he was noticed.

"What's your name, soldier?" The question sounded angry, not quite as annoyed as Perry, but not exactly an indication that their conversation was going to be pleasant.

Kyle sensed rather than saw the change in Connor when he'd stated his name. He didn't understand it and the scrutiny he now found himself under was making him increasingly uncomfortable. Connor walked slowly around him, as though examining every inch of him, and Kyle suddenly wished he'd tried harder to find that water.

He wished his clothing wasn't dirty and torn, that his hair wasn't sticking out in all directions from the sweat of wearing the helmet. He wished he'd taken the time to remove the bandana from his forehead, just to prove that there was some part of him not covered in grease. This was no condition to be in when talking to the leader of the rebellion! But all those wishes died away as Kyle recognized the reality that there was really no other way for him to be. He was dirty. His clothing was ripped. He was too exhausted to stand at attention. And his chin hurt terribly.

When Connor asked him for his first name Kyle took a moment to respond. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had called him by his first name; certainly, no one had asked for it in a very long time.

The silence between them grew so tangible that Kyle risked a glance up. What he saw surprised him and made him slightly uneasy. Large expressive eyes looking at him with a kind of wonder, a kind of joy...well, Kyle had never known such an expression to be turned on him. His eyes returned to a point somewhat lower and behind Connor. It was a safe spot to rest his gaze while he tried to sort out what was happening.

"You did very well today, Kyle Reese."

Kyle involuntarily flinched a little. He'd been expecting a reprimand, had almost talked himself into deserving one. Praise was a limited commodity in Kyle's life and not something he was used to accepting.

"I did what I had to do." He turned his head slightly away for a second, adding softly, "Jus' lucky I didn't get myself killed doing it."

"Was it luck that got the unit out?" It didn't sound to Kyle like Connor was being critical, the way Perry always was. In fact, he almost sounded...pleased.

Kyle didn't know what to say. Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his chin lifting his head, causing the pain to flare up from the dull throb into a sharp sting again. But he didn't react, not even to pull away. He met Connor's gaze squarely and didn't drop his head when the hand withdrew.

"You did very well today, Kyle Reese," Connor repeated with a no nonsense tone that was more familiar to Kyle. He felt himself begin to glow faintly with a warm feeling he didn't recognize as pride.

Connor didn't want to criticize him or berate him. Connor was happy with what Kyle had done. He had done something to please his leader, making him worthy of attention from the man. Assimilating this turn of events nearly made Kyle miss Connor's next words.

"There's something I want...I need for you to do for me."

'Me? He needs me for something?' His former exhaustion dropped away. Kyle would walk through fire for this man. He would do anything for him and that's exactly what he said, not even bothering to hide his awe.

"Stay alive, soldier," came the command accompanied by a pat on the shoulder.

Kyle had been expecting a briefing for a new mission. The generalization of the command sent him spinning back into bewilderment.

"I thought that was already the goal," he blurted out, blinking rapidly at his audacity and adding quickly, "sir."

The laughter that then came from Connor completed the surreal quality of the meeting. For the second time Kyle wondered if maybe he was asleep and dreaming the entire exchange. There wasn't anything remotely funny about survival and indeed Connor had been adamant in the past that it was the primary goal, the only goal worth fighting for, and it was a very serious one. Why he found it amusing now completely baffled Kyle.

"So it is, Reese, so it is. Thank you for reminding me."

Kyle wasn't exactly sure why he deserved the thanks but decided not to question it. Was it possible that the strain had finally cracked the man? The idea that their leader had gone crazy should have been unsettling for Kyle. Yet, there was something very comforting about John Connor, even when he was acting in a confusing and contradictory manner. Maybe crazy was the safest place to be, for all of them. Kyle realized suddenly he was being given a perspective of his leader that few people had.

He hesitated but had to ask. "May I speak, sir?"

"Yes, please do. By all means." Connor gestured enthusiastically, seemingly eager to hear whatever the young man had to say.

Kyle slowly shook his head not quite sure how to express himself without sounding offensive. "Well, no disrespect intended, sir, but you...you're not quite what I expected."

His frank gaze and assessment obviously pleased his leader, who smiled so brightly that Kyle could have sworn he was beaming. Those expressive eyes shone and sparkled. If Kyle hadn't known the man was happy he might have thought he'd seen tears.

"This probably won't make any sense to you, Kyle, but neither are you."

It didn't make any sense to Kyle, but he accepted it, as he'd accepted the entire strange conversation, and chalked it up to his personal misconceptions about the great man. Nothing John Connor could do would make him appear any less than a hero in Kyle's eyes. If something Kyle had done gave his leader joy, it was only something in which to take comfort. He felt that strange warm glow again.

A practical young man, Kyle also took the offer of water to finally treat his chin.

*****

The End!

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page