Get your own Free Home Page Disclaimer: The Terminator and characters are the property of James Cameron. This story does not intend to infringe on any copyright.
Kath's notes: This is a continuation of sorts to my previous Kyle story Where Roots Will Grow and there are some minor references made to it.
Thanks muchly to Vicki and Sheena for their editorial advice. The following is an AU which assumes that Kyle Reese survived. Feedback gratefully appreciated.
*****
Kyle Reese, Sergeant/Tech Com DN38416, was a husband and a father. But he was first and foremost a soldier with a mission. Granted, he hadn't fully grasped the long range requirements when he'd signed on, but he doubted that knowing them would have changed his decision. As a soldier he was conditioned to adapt to his environment. He had known deprivation and hardship, everything from battle wounds to illness to hunger. He had fought a relentless foe and survived. He'd been willing to lay down his life for a cause in which he believed strongly and for a woman he loved more than anything else.
Yet none of his experiences had prepared him for life in the prewar society. Nothing he'd heard about the history of mankind included information about late twentieth century lifestyle. He had not expected the callous indifference to the greater good in favour of individual power. Neither had he any comprehension of random acts of kindness. The oscillation between these two opposing trends often left him baffled and unnerved.
He'd come to appreciate, early on in his life with Sarah, that with more people in the world there were more complex social rituals. What he'd failed to understand was the importance of these rituals to the community at large and the impact they had on him personally.
So it was when Sarah announced they would celebrate Christmas.
*****
It began with something as simple as a box of lights, complete with an electrical wire to string them up. If Kyle had realized how complicated things were going to get he might have objected more strongly. But at the time he saw only lights, and very impractical ones at that.
He held up a green bulb for inspection.
"It's painted over," he said. "What possible use could it have?"
"They're not flood lamps, Kyle," Sarah told him. "They're decorative. You put them on the outside of the house."
"Why?" He was genuinely baffled.
"Because they look nice." Seeing his expression she added crossly, "It's a dark time of the year, Reese. It's nice to have a bit of light around."
Kyle began pulling the string from the box, eyeing it dubiously.
"Look," she continued. "It's our first time having Christmas in ... in a home and I want everything to be perfect. Lights, decorations, fruitcake, gingerbread, pine tree with a star on the top. We even have a fireplace this year so we can hang stockings." She patted the mantle lightly.
"What for?" asked Kyle, looking up from the tangled cord.
"Dad," John spoke up from the door. "Santa comes down the chimney. You've got to hang stockings there so he'll see them."
For a split second Kyle's heart skipped a beat as he considered a potential crack in his security for the house. But just as quickly he dismissed the idea that a person could infiltrate their home via the narrow confines of the chimney.
"That's ridiculous," he stated flatly. "There's no way that Santa could..."
"...ever miss seeing our stockings no matter where we put them," interrupted Sarah loudly. "Santa would see them even if we hung them on the door. But the mantle is the traditional spot and since we have one this year, that's where they'll be." Before Kyle could open his mouth again to protest, Sarah swiftly crossed the room to propel John out and sent him upstairs. "Put your PJs on and I'll be up in a minute. I just have to indoctrinate your father on the finer points of Christmas celebrations."
John hesitated halfway up. "What's indoctrinate mean?"
"It means explain to him very carefully," Sarah told him. Seeing John continue up, she turned back to the living room. "And then beat it into his thick skull," she added under her breath.
"What was that?" she demanded. "You nearly blew it! He still believes in Santa Claus; let's not ruin it for him."
"There's no way he can possibly think some fat guy is going to come down our chimney," Kyle said. He leaned over to inspect the fireplace, peering up into the darkness for a second. Then he straightened and faced his wife. "Especially not with cargo. John's not an idiot you know."
"No. That is a title you're not ready to relinquish just yet!" she snapped. Sensing his frustration she softened her tone. "It's magic, Kyle. And that is something we shouldn't take away from John. Goodness knows it won't last long."
"Magic isn't going to keep him safe," Kyle said slowly. "Magic isn't going to keep him alive."
"No," she agreed. "But it might help to give him a reason to stay alive. Some of my fondest memories of childhood are centered around holidays. And this reminds me how much I love my family and cherish them." She put her arms around him. "You're just going to have to trust me on this, Reese."
"I still don't see the point of the lights," he grumbled.
"Mommy!" called John.
"Bottom line, people do it, every other house will have them. We're doing it." She moved back to the stairs.
"You're the boss," Kyle said.
*****
Before picking John up from school the following day, Kyle drove over to the Stewarts to borrow a ladder. His lack of enthusiasm for the task was not unnoticed by Maggie. She scolded him even as she offered some freshly baked shortbread.
"You're far too young to be so Scrooge-like, honey."
Kyle had to admit the cookies were good. He just couldn't figure out why, since they were so good, people didn't bake them year 'round.
"What's a scrooge?" he asked.
Maggie was so surprised she actually didn't speak for a moment, a feat which Kyle recognized as somewhat incredible. He began to get that edgy, nervous feeling he associated with him making a serious social blunder.
"Lordy, the state of education!" burst out Maggie finally. "Do you mean to tell me you've never read Charles Dickens?"
She didn't even give Kyle a chance to respond before leaving him to run up the stairs, chatting all the way. Kyle shifted slightly, wanting to go load the ladder but feeling incredibly awkward. Was she coming back or had his ignorance of this scrooge thing insulted her so much she'd abandoned him? He decided he'd better get the ladder sorted before Maggie refused the loan of it. He did not want to have to explain to Sarah why the lights weren't on the house and he certainly didn't want to have to gain access to the roof via the tree.
He'd just finished loading the truck when Maggie emerged from the house, wrapping a shawl around her.
"Here you go, honey." She handed him a book. "It took me longer to find it than I thought."
Kyle looked down at the volume in his hands and read: A Christmas Carol - In Prose - being: A Ghost Story of Christmas by Charles Dickens. Damn! He'd thought carols were songs and now it appeared they were stories as well. He was never going to get the hang of this. He flipped it open to see the preface.
I have endeavoured in this Ghostly little book to raise the Ghost of an Idea which shall not put my readers out of humour with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me. May it haunt their house pleasantly, and no one wish to lay it. Their faithful Friend and Servant, C.D. December 1843.
More ghosts! Kyle raised his head sharply to Maggie's patient and kind face. Sensing his objection before he'd put it to words she patted his arm. "Trust me."
This was the second time in two days that Kyle had been urged to ignore his instincts in favour of the trust of a woman.
"When you bring back the ladder, could you be a dear and fix some of our light? We have new bulbs but I'm afraid Al's going to break his fool neck getting up there."
"Sure thing," Kyle said. He'd be a pro by that time.
"Enjoy the book, honey. Hugs and kisses to your little boy."
*****
After collecting John from the school, Kyle made a detour to the hardware store. He'd overheard Al with some customers discussing these ornamental lights and reevaluated his plan. Sarah's one string just wasn't going to be enough.
Confronted with a daunting display of indoor and outdoor lights, Kyle let John choose.
"What colours should we get?"
"Um." John considered. Then he pointed. "Red like Santa's coat and green like a Christmas tree."
"Red and green. Okay, you got it."
Fully stocked they returned to the house where John had a snack while Kyle checked that all his bulbs were working.
"All set, buddy?"
John nodded.
"Okay. Drink your milk and let's get to work."
*****
Sarah got a ride home from work with one of their neighbours. She walked around the old cedar tree, on which the Lewis sign was still hanging (albeit slightly askew), and then stopped in her tracks, amazed by the sight. Kyle was on the roof consulting with his boss. The pint sized dictator stood with Rufus on the front lawn, offering directives with authority.
"More to the left, Dad!"
"How's that?" Kyle asked, after making the adjustment. He leaned back to try to see for himself. John bent over so he could examine it sideways and then giggled when he lost his balance.
Sarah, a little afraid that Kyle was about to pitch head first off the roof, stepped forward at this point. "My you two have been busy."
Kyle decided to come down to get a look from the ground. He quickly descended the ladder and approached Sarah with a shy grin.
"You know, you were right about everyone doing this thing with the lights. I heard Al talking with Frank Dillon today and did you know some people even make it like some kind of competition. That's just weird."
Sarah didn't know what to say. 'Don't blow this,' she told herself, 'or he'll retreat so far into bah-humbug-dom you'll never get him out again.'
Kyle had decorated the house with lights. He'd wrapped a red cord around the railing by the front steps and strung a green one over the door. A line of multi-coloured bulbs ran straight along just under the gutter. Another two sets of green surrounded the two upper windows while red dangled from the eaves of the dormers.
"We put the red on the windows first but John thought it made the house look evil," Kyle explained.
"Our house has green eyes, Mommy," John informed her.
"It certainly does," she agreed.
"I didn't put any at the back," Kyle said. "But I think they are only supposed to be at the front anyway." He regarded her uneasily, made wary by her lack of comment so far. "I still say they're very impractical and they don't even..."
Sarah silenced him with a kiss. "They're beautiful," she told him.
He grinned, relieved. "Really?"
"Beautiful," she repeated, and kissed him again.
*****
Sarah watched as Kyle swung the ax with a persistent precision that made him look born to the task. Who would have known that this was the first year he'd had the experience of chopping firewood? She wondered idly and with a pang of sadness whether there had even been any trees in Kyle's world. He was making up for lost time in a hurry, however, as he stacked up the logs against the house and threw the scattered chips into a box for kindling.
"We need to get a Christmas tree," she said.
He turned to her, not really understanding what she meant - there was certainly nothing new to that feeling - and then set up another chunk of wood for splitting. "We've got more than enough trees around here. What do we need another one for?"
She smiled. Sometimes Kyle was more of a child than John, with even ordinary happenstance a new experience. "A Christmas tree is special. You bring it into the house and decorate it."
The ax came down with the first misplaced swing she'd seen him do. A great chunk of bark went flying up and Kyle batted it away with impatience.
"We're never going to fit a tree inside the house," he said. "Besides, why would you want to bring a tree inside? It would die."
Patiently, she explained, "Christmas trees are smaller than the ones around here. They're usually a kind of pine tree. And yes, they do die when you bring them inside, but that's not the point."
Kyle's grunt as he brought his ax down again was an acknowledgement that he knew she would be explaining the point shortly. So, when no further explanation was forthcoming he hesitated in his swing, resulting in another off centre chop. Disgusted with his distraction he looked over at Sarah.
"You were explaining to me why we have to kill a tree?" he prompted.
"You decorate the tree with glass balls and lights, sort of like the ones on the house but smaller, and silver strands and you place a star at the top. Or some people put angels or Father Christmas but that's..." She seemed to lose her train of thought for a moment. His expression was interested, yet still perplexed and she sighed. "Do you have to question everything? Can't you just accept that certain things are done a certain way and that's just the way it is?"
"There has to be a reason," he said. "Otherwise, why do it?"
"Fine. I'll look up some information on the origin of the tree for you as an explanation. But for now, we need one. It'll be fun to decorate and to put the presents under."
"I thought the presents went in the stockings," Kyle said, leaning on the ax.
"Some are too big for that." She grinned and held up an envelope. "Our little boy has written a letter to Santa Claus."
Kyle grinned back. "Did he advise the fat guy not to try coming down the chimney?"
Sarah threw a piece of bark at him which he easily evaded. "No, he was telling Santa what he wants for Christmas."
"Frankly, I think this entire holiday is nuts," Kyle said. "Painted lights, dead trees, people in chimneys..." He shook his head. "And now we have our son writing a letter to some guy who doesn't exist..."
"Magic, Reese!" Sarah warned.
"...telling him what we should be getting him as a gift," continued Kyle. "How are we supposed to know what he wants if he doesn't tell us?"
Sarah held the letter up to her head and closed her eyes. "Hmmm, oh I see, yes. He wants a Super Remote Control RoboBlaster. Batteries not included."
Kyle's jaw dropped. He eyed her suspiciously. "More magic?"
"Nothing magic about that. I'm his mother, of course I know what he wants for Christmas." Sarah's expression grew thoughtful.
"What's a RoboBlaster?" asked Kyle finally.
"It's something more than we can afford," she said quietly. "It's some kind of mechanized robot thing." She decided not to mention that the toy was produced by Cyberdyne Systems.
Kyle didn't say anything. He chopped a few more times, finally splitting the log into two. "So, is this the part of the holiday where he learns about disappointment? Or is that reserved for some other ritual I haven't heard of yet."
"No, this is the part where we do the best we can and hope that he learns there's more to Christmas than just the toys." Sarah turned to go back into the house but hesitated by the door. "And we need to get a tree."
*****
John had immediately sought out the younger members of the party, who'd congregated in the basement, but Sarah hovered on the fringes. She wasn't exactly in a festive mood and needed a moment to gather resources before mingling.
"I'm not going!" Kyle had flatly refused to attend the premiere social event of the season. No amount of coaxing, pleading, or persuading could budge him from him decision.
Sarah was determined not to let Kyle's sour attitude towards festivities ruin her good time. She, unlike Kyle, enjoyed the company of others and she resented him for keeping her from it. In recent times she'd had few opportunities to make many friends and had virtually no confidantes. Their settling in Pineridge was a chance to make some meaningful contact with people.
"No Kyle tonight?" Sandra Dillon, the evening's hostess, approached with a cheerful smile.
Sarah clenched her jaw but forced the corners of her mouth upwards. "No, I'm sorry Sandra, Kyle sends his regrets. He..."
Sarah paused, wondering how best to phrase the excuse. Should she go for the blatantly honest and say that Kyle would rather face an armed insurrection than attend a party with a group of people who isolated him by accentuating his eccentricities. No, perhaps that wasn't the best approach. She would do better to admit that Kyle just didn't like Christmas. However, Sarah hadn't quite given up hope on converting him to the joy of the holiday and so she was loathe to give voice to that excuse.
"Is he unwell?" asked Sandra with sympathy. "I heard Joey Miller has the flu, poor dear, and it is the season for it."
"No, he's fine," Sarah said, even while she mentally kicked herself for not jumping at the convenient reason for her husband's absence. She thought about what Kyle was probably doing right now, alone in the house with only Rufus and the fireplace for company. He'd most likely prowl around checking the security and then read. He'd read anything from John's school books, to Sarah's library finds, to old magazines brought home from Al's garage.
"He's just...I just couldn't tear him away from his books."
"Oh! Is he studying for something?" asked Sandra, her expression clearly surprised.
"I didn't know Kyle was at school," Angela Martin cut in, not the least embarrassed at confirming she'd been eavesdropping.
"Oh yes, Kyle is quite the student." Sarah tried to make it sound light hearted but Angela honed in for the kill.
"What course is he taking?"
Sarah noted with frustration that several others had been drawn into their chat. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound...
"Sociology," she answered swiftly. "And he's got a big exam coming up. Right now he's neck deep in a paper on Winter solstice rituals."
"Oh my!" Sandra was clearly impressed. Sarah relaxed slightly.
"You bet. Everything from the Celts to Catholics to crass commercialism, he's your man. It's quite fascinating."
"Quite," agreed Angela dryly.
"I bet he could teach us a thing or two." Sandra gave a giggle.
"If he was only here to do so," Angela murmured.
Sandra excused herself to greet some new guests and Angela was pulled away into another conversation. The others shifted and Sarah slumped with relief to be out of the spotlight.
"Here, honey." A cup of eggnog appeared as Maggie Stewart nudged her elbow. "You need something to swallow down that load of malarkey you've just been dishing out."
Sarah took the cup gratefully but looked at Maggie with chagrin. "That obvious?"
"Honey, didn't anyone ever tell you the golden rule of lying? Keep it simple, stupid." Maggie grinned as Sarah chuckled. "Why didn't you just tell them the truth?"
Sarah sighed. "That definitely wouldn't have kept it simple."
"You don't have to spend much time with your fella to know he's shy. But most folks here don't even know him well enough to make that judgement. Even after that nonsense with the school and the dog..."
"You don't think Kyle could be a student?" asked Sarah. "It wasn't believable?"
Maggie's eyes twinkled. "Come on, honey. That boy is smart as a whip but he hasn't got a lot of book learning. And he'd have as much use for a professor as Al would a ballet teacher."
Sarah laughed. Trust Maggie to shift her mood so easily.
"Why, he didn't even know who Ebenezer Scrooge was," continued Maggie. She winked. "But I rectified that in a hurry."
"I wondered where that book came from! He read it, you know."
"Lordy, do I ever! The questions he had! And when I asked him flat out whether or not he enjoyed it he mumbled something about ground water being the source of spirits. You have any idea what that meant?"
Sarah choked on the eggnog and coughed a couple of times. "No idea."
"Honey, if you're going to take up lying on a regular basis we need to work on your poker face."
*****
"I want to go with Dad." John turned pleading eyes on his father who had wisely remained in the doorway while Sarah sat on the bed.
"Come on, Bubaloo, you're not well enough to go with Dad. So I think you should stay here with me," Sarah suggested.
"But I want to go with Dad!" protested John, a little louder this time. Kyle made some movement in the doorway so Sarah spoke up quickly.
"It won't be any fun at all where Dad's going. It'll be cold and wet and you have to walk a long way..."
"Now I don't want to go," muttered Kyle. Sarah shot him a warning look.
John's eyes filled with tears. "I don't care. I want to go with Daddy to get our tree."
"Maybe..." Kyle shifted on his feet uncomfortably.
"Hey," interrupted Sarah as she brushed John's hair back from his eyes. "You know what I'm baking? Gingerbread! How about you stay all cozy with me and we'll build a gingerbread house later? Doesn't that sound like fun?"
John drew a shaky breath, clearly not fully convinced.
"If you go out in the cold you'll get sick again," warned Sarah. "You don't want to be sick for Christmas, do you Bubaloo?"
"I want to be with Daddy," insisted John.
"You don't have anything to worry about," Kyle said, misinterpreting John's desire to go to be insecurity. "I'm leaving the dog with you. He'll look after things while I'm gone."
This had absolutely no effect on John and two tears spilled down his cheeks.
"Daddy'll be home before you know it," Sarah said.
"Hey buddy." Kyle stepped forward and dropped to his knees by the bed. He reached out to John's chin and lifted it, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I've got a really important mission for you. While I'm gone, you're the one in charge of looking after Mommy and the house, okay? The dog will help out but he's only a sergeant. You're the general, okay? You think you can do that for me? I know you're the best man for the job."
John drew up a little straighter. "I guess so," he whispered.
"Good." Kyle gave his son a salute which John returned with a certain amount of enthusiasm. "Good." As he stood, Kyle leaned over to kiss John's tousled head.
After Kyle formally turned over command to the general Sarah convinced John to get back under the covers. She went downstairs where Kyle was filling his knapsack. She watched as a rope, a knife, a pack of matches, some burlap, a few granola bars and two oranges were methodically stowed away. Kyle rummaged around a bit on his workspace before picking up a shotgun. Sarah reached out to take it from him.
"You're going after a tree, Reese, not a bear."
He eyed the rifle a moment, deciding, and then added a handgun to his gear instead.
"For such a tough guy you can be a real softie, you know that?" she said fondly.
"What do you mean?" Kyle pulled on a sweater and started wrapping a scarf around his neck. Sarah came closer to help him.
"I mean that all it takes is the hint of tears for you to cave and give in to that child's demands."
"That's not true." Kyle's protest was slightly muffled behind the layer of scarf. He shrugged on his coat.
"That boy can play you like a fiddle, Reese. It's a good thing you've got me here to make you stay the course." Sarah pulled down the scarf to give him a quick kiss before he could claim otherwise.
"Right then." She stepped back and handed him his hat and gloves. "You know what you're looking for? Don't get one that's too big for the space. But don't get one that's too scraggly or we won't be able to hang anything on it. But not too bushy or it'll be too dense for the lights. Are you listening to me? This is important!"
"I have an idea," Kyle said as he put his knapsack on his shoulders and picked up the ax. "Why don't you get the tree and I'll stay with John and then everyone will be happy?"
"Funny man. And remember what Al said, go north to get up to where the pine trees are but don't go too far east or you'll be in the park."
"Any other advice?" Kyle asked as he opened the door. "Grab the dog," he said, as Rufus made motion to barrel out next to his master.
Sarah held Rufus back by his collar. "Okay. Good luck. And be careful!" she called after him. Kyle raised an arm with acknowledgement but did not look back.
*****
It took Kyle a lot longer than he'd planned to get the tree. For starters, he hadn't factored in the extra time it took to walk in the snow. He wasn't quite used to his feet sliding around on ground not fully solid. The path was unbroken but the snow not too deep as the trail was protected on one side by large cedar trees. There was no one else around; he was completely alone.
When he finally reached the clearing where the Scotch pines grew, it then took more time than he'd expected to find Sarah's tree. Not too tall, not too scraggly, not too bushy... He narrowed his options and honed in on two potentially suitable shrubs. He eyed each critically, wishing he had a second opinion. Even the dog would do. He just didn't want to disappoint Sarah with what was obviously something very important to her.
Having reached a decision he made short work of chopping the tree down, wrapping it in burlap, and tying it up for travel. He stowed the ax through the straps of his knapsack, and picked up the ends of the rope to pull the tree behind him.
Kyle found he needed his arms to help his balance on the icy trail. Not too far along he stopped to tie the rope ends around his chest, thereby freeing his arms from the task of pulling. He tried to pick up his pace, well aware that he'd already spent more time on this quest than he'd anticipated. He needed to get home.
His efforts to find stable footing took him to the edges of the path. The slight downward slant was almost more a hindrance than an aid, as the heavy tree rolled awkwardly at his heels. Then his right ankle twisted under him, caught on an icy crust of snow. He swayed off-balance, bringing his fingers almost to the ground as he tried to regain his footing. This was just enough to roll the tree off the trail entirely. The momentum of the tree going over the edge yanked Kyle back hard. Already off-balance he had no hope of breaking his fall. He went over backwards, pulled ever down the slope by the sliding tree that was tied to him. The sharp bank was unfortunately free of other trees or shrubbery that might have slowed their descent. So Kyle tumbled helplessly into a ravine, landing with an inarticulate grunt when the bottom brought the tree and him to an abrupt halt.
*****
Sarah was having such a good day she hardly noticed the time. John slept for a bit after Kyle left, giving her a chance to wrap her gifts. She chuckled to herself as she tied a bow on her present to Kyle, a carved wooden picture frame that held two pictures: one of Kyle with John on his back peering over his shoulder, the other of Sarah and John on the swing Kyle had hung in the backyard. Her amusement was not at her gift but rather the thought of what Kyle might have in store for her present. Knowing him, she'd be lucky to get some new ammunition to add to their stockpile.
After John got up and had lunch they decorated the gingerbread house as she'd promised him. John seemed to be nearly completely recovered from his flu and took great delight in arranging the coloured candies, chocolates, and candy canes while Sarah applied the icing.
So it wasn't until midafternoon that she had reason to look at the clock and frown, thinking that Kyle should have returned by now. It was growing dark, far darker than it should be even for the short days of winter. That's when Sarah realized it was snowing, quite heavily and she wondered what she'd been thinking not to notice this.
The shrill ring of the telephone cut through her thoughts and she answered it quickly, hoping against reason that it would be Kyle with some explanation for where he was when he should be at home. But instead it was Sandra Dillon, inquiring after John's health and offering aid, if required. Sarah declined politely, saying that John was much better and currently sucking a candy cane. Trying to get a grip on her mounting fear Sarah asked if Sandra had heard a weather report.
"Why yes, it looks like it will be a white, white Christmas!" Sandra said happily. "The way the forecast was going I don't think it's set to stop snowing until New Year's."
Sarah tried to agree that this was wonderful with some enthusiasm, even as her ears pricked up to hear the sound of Kyle's approach over the blustery wind. No luck. Fortunately Sandra didn't have any other time to chat and the call was ended.
"When's Dad going to be home?" asked John.
"Soon, Bubaloo, very soon," Sarah answered, hoping to convince herself as well as her son.
*****
For a moment after landing Kyle didn't move, hardly breathed, he was so afraid of the pain. Pain he could handle, the anticipation of it was another matter. But after a couple of seconds without anything ripping through his nervous system he cautiously drew a breath and wiggled his fingers and toes. Nothing broken then and that was miracle enough.
He opened his eyes to find he'd fallen onto his back and was staring up at a darkened sky. Snow drifted down onto his face making him blink. It didn't take much longer for him to become aware of the numbing cold that seeped up from the ground right through his many layers of clothing. Taking a deep breath he groaned and rolled over, pushing up to come awkwardly to his feet.
He swayed a bit then, finding his bearings and his footing. He looked around and then up, examining the route he'd taken to arrive at the bottom of the ravine.
There was absolutely no possibility of returning to the trail by the same path he'd left it. The bank was too steep, too icy; the possibility of falling again and really hurting himself was too great.
His only other option then was to follow a parallel path of the upper trail until he could find a more viable route back to where he needed to be.
Kyle looked resentfully down at the tree which, remarkably, seemed none the worse for wear for having pulled him off a cliff. At this point, he'd gone through too much to get it and was going to go through too much to get home, to abandon it just yet. So he untangled the mess of rope that had twisted during the descent and trudged onwards, tree sliding behind him.
He hadn't gone far when he began to appreciate the hard packed snow of the trail. Down in the ravine the snow was in deep drifts. Sometimes it would support his weight, others he'd sink up to his knees. It was exhausting him and slowing him down. To add to his misery, the wind was driving the snow into his face, the tiny frozen flecks stinging his exposed cheeks and eyelids. Visibility was narrowing.
Kyle had known many kinds of fear in his young life. At times he might wonder if he'd lived his whole life in fear, with only a few moments of security thrown in as respite now and again. But he was sure he'd never felt the fear that crept into him now, in the growing snowstorm, in the middle of the forest, alone and battered, and lost.
Like the biting wind it seeped in under his coat and down the back of his neck. It soaked through to his skin from the wet of the melting snow on his jeans. It made breathing difficult, just like the layer of ice on his scarf from where his breath had frozen. It blinded him with frosty eyelashes that stuck together. It took away sensation in his fingers and his feet only to replace it with a burning that seemed out of place with the rest of his body's chill.
The cold and the fear worked together to slow him down, confuse him, disorient him...distract him from his only goal. Home.
Kyle was used to battling an enemy with whom reasoning was impossible. He knew only how to fight, not how to negotiate a truce. His foes had been hard to slow down, harder to destroy. But all his battle tactics involved either weaponry or retreat. Mother Nature was a much more difficult opponent than any he'd previously encountered. She was not to be stopped by words or weapons; she could not be evaded, only endured.
To try to focus himself on taking each step forward and not dwell on his growing discomfort and despair, Kyle began to think of his family. He was enormously relieved that John had not been able to come with him as they'd first planned. Thinking of his son, he remembered the Christmas stories and songs that Sarah had been teaching John. And he thought about the book that Maggie had lent him.
He'd been skeptical, especially as his own experience with the ghost of Mr. Lewis made him wary of anything supernatural. Yet, he'd found himself drawn into the story by the descriptive language and the colourful characters. In the end, he'd been more than a little insulted that Maggie would compare him to a character like Scrooge. He wasn't mean spirited the way that old geezer had been. He just couldn't see the point in this holiday and nothing Sarah had told him made it any clearer.
More often than not she'd been unable to provide any reasonable explanation for any of it and had resorted to merely asking him to accept what she couldn't explain.
"I'll be home for Christmas," he mumbled. Then he repeated it again, and again, until it became a mantra and a way for him to take each increasingly laborious step.
*****
Sarah couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this scared and alone. Well, she could actually and that only caused her to feel more frightened. It had been just as she'd finally put an end to that nightmare machine stalking her and had crawled back over to Kyle, whom she'd been sure was dead.
He had been alive and the fear lessened. It had lessened every day from that point forward until she'd almost forgotten how horrible it felt.
Now she remembered it all too vividly.
It was midnight. John was asleep in her bed and Rufus dozing at the top of the stairs. Sarah couldn't sleep. Kyle was missing. He was out there in the storm that rattled the windows and angrily blew snow up against the door. Cold air seeped into the warmth of their home and trickled across her skin causing her to shiver.
How could he leave them? How could he?
You sent him out there, Sarah, she told herself sternly. He didn't want to go, he didn't understand but you forced him out there. You're the reason he's not home right now. If he never comes back again it will be your fault.
She crept downstairs, her restlessness prompting her to prowl around, much like Kyle did during the night when he was here. Rufus dutifully rose to his feet and followed, fully prepared to go outside with her as she stood at the door. The dog whined a bit, as though questioning her judgement for even thinking of heading into the storm, and she turned tearful eyes on him.
"I don't know where he is, Rufe. I don't know where he is." Then she leaned up against the glass on the door, not caring that the cold pane chilled her to the bone. "Please come home, Kyle. Please come home."
*****
Kyle had long ceased paying much attention to where he was going. He knew enough about exposure to know that if he stopped moving he would surely die. So as much as he wanted to just fall down and not bother rising he kept walking and concentrated more on that than the direction of his steps.
When he stopped it took him a moment to realize why. He'd run into something solid, a tree perhaps? No, it was more structured....ah, a wall then. Well, that was just fine. A good reason to stop moving. Someone had put a wall up in front of him and that was it. He was tired. He was beyond cold. He slumped down, huddled next to the wood and sighed. His eyes closed and he thought with regret that he'd never know the meaning of Christmas because it looked like this one would be his last.
Sarah had wanted John to be able to draw comfort in the future from the traditions of holidays like Christmas. Suddenly one piercing thought penetrated the fog of Kyle's brain. Christmas would forever be for John the anniversary of his father's death. This must not be!
It took great effort but he somehow forced his aching uncooperative limbs to move. Leaning heavily on the solid structure of the mysterious wall he pushed up with a groan. Where there was one wall there must be others and perhaps that meant a roof as well.
Kyle stumbled blindly around the building until he came to the door, bolted with a padlock. Such a small obstacle should have been no problem at all. Minor work for his gun, if only he could get his fingers to bend enough to pull the trigger. Still, Kyle had yet another weapon in his arsenal, one of which he was constantly reminded by the painful bruise on his back. The ax.
How long he remained collapsed on the floor once he hacked his way in Kyle couldn't say. But he finally roused himself from his doze to shake off his knapsack and struggle with the frozen rope that tethered him to the damn tree.
He was in some kind of shack that was part of the park, judging by the paraphernalia and maps on the wall. But Kyle was more interested in the fireplace, oh wonderful sight! He very nearly took his ax to the Christmas tree for something to burn but something made him hesitate. He was surrounded by fuel for a fire. Provided he could get one started there was a good chance he'd actually make it home. He didn't want to explain to Sarah why he'd burnt her tree. Not very logical or rational, but then he'd left those thought processes behind a snow drift several hours ago.
As much as he didn't want to return to the elements outside, Kyle forced himself to exit the shack and collect some wood. He was blessed with good fortune again to find some wood protected from the storm by an overhang of the roof and several large trees on the west side. It took him several minutes of blowing on his hands and flexing his fingers to get them coordinated enough to strike the match.
He used some park pamphlets to coax the flames to catch on the cedar boughs of his wood. For a moment it looked as though the wood was too wet to burn but then a small flame took hold and started to grow. He fed it cautiously, not wanting to smother his best chances of getting warm. And then he rocked back on his heels, holding himself against the shivers that still racked him as the flames gained strength and gave off heat.
A cold trickle burned its way down his cheek and Kyle raised a shaking hand to rub it, not even realizing that tears were flowing.
*****
With the initial danger of hypothermia now past, Kyle set to work removing his wet clothing to dry by his fire. He found a container to fill with snow to melt for drinking water and ate his meager rations slowly. He carefully studied the maps and reoriented himself to what direction to go once the storm let up. He took stock of his aches and pains and stretched stiff muscles.
Then he dozed in front of the fireplace, keeping the heat source well stocked. And he wondered, if he were Scrooge, what the three spirits of Christmas would teach him.
Christmases in his past had never been observed by anything. Maybe, once or twice, an older soldier might have pondered on the date with a kind of nostalgic fondness. Occasionally, Kyle remembered, there was a sense of comfort to be gained from thinking on a special ritual. John Connor used to tell them that every day living was a day to celebrate life. Kyle never remembered a particular day being reserved for any extraordinary purpose.
Even after he'd travelled back to this era when people had more time for frivolous things like holidays Kyle couldn't remember Christmas being anything special. His first December with Sarah had been overshadowed by John's birth. Any other connection to the holiday in the intervening years had only been on the periphery. Kyle had misinterpreted Sarah's wistfulness as sadness and avoided the topic. Now he realized it was something from her past that she remembered with joy, not regret.
As for the present, Kyle thought about all that Sarah had done to make this season special for John. His eyes half-closed, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of John and Sarah cutting out snowflakes from white paper and taping them to the windows in the kitchen. Every snowflake is unique, Sarah said, each one completely different from all the others. Kyle had seen enough snowflakes on this day alone to appreciate the enormity of that statement!
She'd been so pleased with him about those silly lights and he'd felt surprised at himself by the enjoyment he'd gotten out of doing it. Helping Maggie so that Al wouldn't have to climb onto their roof also gave him great satisfaction. Odd that, since he'd been helping Al and Maggie since the day they'd arrived in Pineridge. Of course, this was slightly different in that it didn't involve a paycheque at the end of the day....
Then there was all that music. Listening to the words of some of those songs, carols he corrected himself, he'd been confused by the stories they told. Religion wasn't something with which he had much experience, nor had it seemed a part of Sarah's life, yet she was singing about the birth of a saviour. Of course, she and John also sang about some kind of man made out of snow who came to life to play with children. Magic, he assumed. Damn but it was everywhere!
Kyle smiled again thinking of one of the stories he'd read to John recently. It had given his tongue a good workout with all its nonsensical words. But John had giggled along with Kyle's attempts and corrected him when necessary. Kyle had been surprised to get to the end of the story and realize that in a way it was the same as the one about the mean old Scrooge with his ghosts. Mind you, the Grinch had come to his epiphany without the aid of the supernatural but he'd still gotten a good feast out of his change of character.
Kyle wasn't sure what his Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come would show him. Would the world go to war and become the dark and fearful place he'd known? Or would his presence in this time alter events just enough to prevent that catastrophe? Sarah had once said that since the only thing known about John's father was that he'd died before the war then keeping Kyle alive would postpone it indefinitely. Kyle didn't subscribe to that logic but the whole cause effect paradox of time travel left his brain tired and he did his best not to think about it too much.
Yet, wasn't that in a way a message of Maggie's book? That how you live your life now can change how it will be in the future. This was John Connor's message as well. The future is not set.
*****
Christmas Eve morning in Pineridge was clear and bitterly cold. Sarah got John dressed in the chilly silence of their house without explanation or comforting words. John, sensing his mother's distress, didn't ask her any questions.
Sarah went out to their truck and started the engine, trying to blame her shaking hands on the biting air. She got out a broom and brushed off the accumulated snow from the windshield and hood, clearing the side windows and mirrors as well. Satisfied that the truck was warm enough, she bundled John into the passenger seat and snapped her fingers at the dog. Rufus whined a bit, but joined them in the truck's cab.
John ventured only one question as Sarah carefully maneuvered the vehicle onto the street. "What if he comes back while we're gone?"
"I left a note," she said shortly. Then, not bearing the silence, she snapped on the radio which broadcast a crackly version of Handel's Messiah.
The streets were bare of traffic but she went slowly, not wanting to get stuck in any drifts or slide out of control. She pulled to a careful stop in front of the sheriff's office, unbuckled John and carried him inside. She left him on a bench by the door, with the dog at his feet and stepped towards a desk behind the high counter.
"Mrs. Reese!" The deputy, Jim Cragg, came to his feet with surprise at her sudden appearance. A radio on his desk was continuing the Messiah with more clarity.
"My husband is missing," Sarah said slowly, trying very hard to keep the panic from her voice. She recognized that she would do Kyle no good by hysteria and she didn't want to frighten her son any more than he already was. "I need help to find him. He went out yesterday morning and he hasn't come back and with the storm I..." Her voice was rising so she took a breath before continuing with a lower tone. "I'm very worried."
"Now, slow down there," Cragg said soothingly. "Tell me what happened. Where did he go?"
"He went to get a tree," she explained. "And I thought he'd only be a few hours but..." There was the hysteria again, just perched on the edge waiting to pounce. "He hasn't come back."
Cragg regarded her stonily for a moment. He looked over at John who sat miserably on the bench, stroking the dog's head which rested on his lap. Normally Cragg wouldn't have even let the dog in here but this was an unusual circumstance. Rufus was an unusual dog as well, but that was another matter.
"Mrs. Reese," Cragg said finally. "The holidays can be a stressful time for some. It's not easy to cope sometimes and people....need a little space, maybe."
Sarah blinked, uncomprehending at first. What was this moron on about stress for when Kyle was out in the elements alone and....? Oh God, no.
"Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Deputy Cragg," she said coldly. "My husband did not abandon us. He would never leave us. Never. Now I can't explain how I know this to be a certainty - you wouldn't believe me even if I could - but there is nothing on this earth that would keep Kyle from us."
Cragg's expression was sympathetic. "Now, I don't know your husband, Mrs. Reese but I..."
"But I do," came a new voice. The sheriff, Frank Dillon, stepped from his office. He wasn't dressed for duty, having only come into the office to get some packages of batteries he'd left behind. He looked calmly, but sadly at Sarah. "I don't know him very well, granted, but I can say with confidence that abandon is not a word in Mr. Reese's vocabulary. That incident with the damn dog should have told you that much, Jimmy."
Sarah felt enormous relief at the sheriff's words. He was backing her up. He would help her.
"So you agree then that we have to go looking because he's been out there for almost 24 hours now and something must have happened or he'd..."
But Frank was shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Reese, but there's nothing I can do for you right now."
"But why?" she burst out. "We have to hurry. We have to..."
"You see that weather outside?" he interrupted. "It's clear now but in the two hours it'd take me to organize a search party it's going to start snowing again. Weather bureau predicts another big dump, worse than yesterday this time. And it's not supposed to stop until after Boxing Day." His voice was gentle even though his words were harsh. "Sending folks up into the hills would not only be useless but dangerous. We're just going to have to wait."
"He could be hurt; he could need help," she pleaded. "He could be dying," she added in a whisper. "We can't just leave him there."
"Your husband strikes me as a very resourceful man," Frank said. "I'd say chances are pretty high that he found some shelter to wait out the storm and that's why he didn't come back."
"He's not used to snow," Sarah said. "He's not used to..." She broke off. Nothing about this place was within Kyle's realm of experience yet he'd managed to cope so far. In fact, he'd managed very well, all things considered. The sheriff was right; he was resourceful.
"I think you should go home with your boy and wait it out, as hard as that is. If he's still missing when the weather breaks then we'll cover that mountain looking for him, and that's a promise. Are you well prepped for a storm?"
Sarah almost laughed but her expression was bleak. "We're prepped." Earthquake, snow storm, nuclear war - they were well prepared for these disasters. Losing Kyle was a tragedy for which she was most definitely not prepped. She turned away, self-conscious suddenly about her anxiety. "Thank you, Sheriff, Deputy."
"How 'bout I check with you later?" Frank called after her.
She picked up John and motioned for Rufus to follow them. Frank was riveted by the boy's sad eyes which fixed on the sheriff as his mother carried him back to the truck.
*****
Kyle started awake suddenly. He'd been dreaming of removing all the evidence of Christmas from his house. And Sarah, sweet Sarah, had just shaken her head and called him silly and chided him for not realizing he couldn't take it away. It was there the whole year around.
Love.
He looked around wildly. Was she here? He could have sworn he'd heard her voice. But no, there was no sound at all, except the low crackle and hiss of the dying fire. Kyle sat up straighter listening carefully now. No sound which meant the wind had stopped which meant...
Kyle peered out of the broken door to see that the storm had passed and all was silent. Small bursts of wind tugged at powdery snow, lifting it up to deposit it elsewhere, but those antics were decidedly playful compared to yesterday's savagery.
Time to move out, Reese. Kyle immediately moved into action, pulling on his now dry and quite warm clothing. He completely doused the fire and repacked his gear. He checked the map once again and then exited the shack. He nearly stumbled right away and let out a muffled curse.
The tree. There was Sarah's tree on the doorstep just where he'd left it last night when he'd decided he couldn't burn it. He was taking it with him. She'd sent him out here to get it and dammit he was not going to return empty handed.
"Let's go home," he said to the tree as he picked up the rope.
*****
John worked with the construction paper to cut out bells and snowmen for their tree decorations but he wasn't very enthusiastic for the task. Sarah paced. Rufus whined continuously by the door but when she opened it to let him out he merely sniffed the wind a bit and then retreated indoors. Sarah paced some more. John got out some crayons and continued his work.
Sheriff Dillon was correct in his weather predictions. Not two hours after they returned from town the snow began to fall again. It started out gently enough but the wind picked up and it looked to be another blustery afternoon.
Sarah came to sit on the couch. She was trying to hold it together for John's sake but she knew she wasn't succeeding very well. The boy was far too quiet, too serious. He left behind his artwork and came to the couch.
"Daddy said I was supposed to look after you." That said, he crawled up into her lap to put his arms around her.
Sarah nearly lost it then. She might have let the tears flow had Rufus not chosen that moment to come to attention and begin barking at the door. She sighed and tried calling to him.
"Here boy! Come here! Rufus!"
The dog would not be swayed. He pawed at the door and barked again.
Sarah stood up and went to the dog. She opened the door for him again and was surprised when he bounded out into the backyard, heedless of the driving snow. She peered out after him with concern and saw a dark shape looming.
John was already pulling on his boots and coat to follow the dog. Without tying the laces of her own boots Sarah merely wrapped her coat around her as she plunged off the back stoop.
Kyle had nearly been bowled over by the force of the dog's greeting. Before he'd really caught his balance from that John leapt straight at him. He would have liked to bend over to put his arms around his son but was afraid such a motion would cause him to pitch forward so he settled for patting John's head. Then Sarah was there her words coming rapidly and not making much sense to his frozen brain. But her skin was warm as she pressed her cheek to his and he sagged with relief in her arms. He was home.
She tugged on him to get him moving towards the house again.
"The tree," he said, stupidly.
"Never mind that now, let's get you inside," she said.
"The tree," he repeated.
"I'll take care of it later," she assured him. "You're more important than the tree."
*****
The tree, Kyle decided, was pathetic. It reminded him of the one in the story about the bald kid who was picked on by all his friends. It had obviously been damaged by their circuitous route home. He didn't know whether to be annoyed that he'd gone through all that for a substandard ornamentation of the season or gratified that he wasn't the only one feeling battered after the ordeal.
Sarah declared it the most beautiful Christmas tree she'd ever known and to Kyle's surprise, John agreed with her. She'd even kept the broken boughs and draped them over the mantle with bows of red ribbon. They had decorated the tree lovingly with some lights and handmade paper cutouts of bells, snowmen, angels, snowflakes, and undetermined glittery balls. Underneath, just as she'd said they would, they placed the presents.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the earth and locking the family inside their home away from the rest of the world.
Sarah stood in the doorway, cup in hand, watching the scene with a smile. Kyle sat on the floor by the fire, with his back resting gingerly against the couch. Rufus had stretched out on the couch, pushing Kyle down to the floor. Normally the dog didn't climb up on the furniture and Sarah doubted his presence on the sofa had anything to do with seeking a comfortable perch. Today he seemed determined to keep his master close at hand.
John was nearby, happily converting his transformer police car into a towering robot, complete with flashing lights and electronic beeps. Kyle was watching him with a kind of marvelous awe on his face.
"Did Santa do alright there, buddy?" Kyle asked softly and was rewarded by a grin so big it fairly split John's face in two.
"Santa knows, Dad. He knows."
Sarah moved into the room and, seeing as the couch was fully occupied with dog, sat in front of Kyle. She leaned gently back into him and sighed as he wrapped his arms around her.
"I don't get it," he said. "Why is he so happy when he didn't get the toy he wanted?"
"He put in a change request at the last moment," Sarah told him. Sensing his puzzlement, she reached into her pocket and drew out a folded sheet of paper on which were scrawled some words in crayon. "I found it in his stocking last night."
Kyle took it in his hand and read over her shoulder, making allowances for the novice penmanship and poor spelling.
Santa, please bring my Dad home. You can give my RoboBlaster to someone else. Love John.
"That Santa," Sarah said. "He's got a lot of magic."
"Magic!" Kyle snorted.
"Tell me something, Reese," she said with fond exasperation. "Is there anything about this holiday that you like?"
He rested his cheek on her shoulder while he considered the question. "The lights were okay," he finally conceded reluctantly.
She chuckled and took another sip of hot chocolate.
"And," he continued softly, "that peace and joy thing isn't a bad idea."
Surprised, she half turned to try to catch his eyes but only saw the back of his head. His arms tightened around her. Her breath caught as she thought of all they had; so much, and yet, in having they had so much to lose. This made it precious, cherished, worth every battle.
"Peace and joy," she repeated.
"I like that idea a lot," he said.
"Me too."
*****
The End!
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