Sarah Connor (know_your_exits) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2013-10-10 03:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | sarah connor |
Who: Sarah Connor
When: During the explosions
Where: Main apartment complex
What: Trying to help
Rating: PG-13 to R
Warnings: Character death! Er, temporarily. But she doesn't know that.
Status: Complete; Narrative
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Sarah had heard the rumbling around her, from farther away, in the building, and near also. She knew damn well what it was. One with her past? And the people she had occasionally associated with to prepare her son for the future? Explosives. She knew that trade extensively, for the most part. But to have it happen right here. Right here, in what was supposed to be the safest and most secure location during this Apocalypse? That in itself was a shock to her. But she recovered quickly, going for her gun and loading it. This was a war. And breaches did happen. She knew that much at least. But surprise or no, she was ready to face it head on. She would help get people to safety and then head to the Roadhouse to assist over there next. She had already brought her weapons there. So she hurriedly went to the door, sending Jo a text on her way as she did. She opened it and ran out into the halls.
But then as she neared the end of her path, seeking trapped survivors, she was blown back by another blast nearer, closer than before, and part of a ceiling and wall had fallen on her, pinning her down. It was heavy. She tried to push it off, but.. no use at all. Barely even managed to shake, even just a little. And every time she made resistance? It hurt all the more. And she felt.. warm? No, wet. Near her abdomen. Her hand slowly traveled, confused but knowing at the same time, knowing what it was but hoping to be wrong. Could be from elsewhere. But no. No, it was hers. She found it hard to breath. And the smoke around her making her cough. She glanced to her side, on the floor as she was, mind absently noting that the floor felt hard, and seeing her phone within reach. She opened it to the network and her fingers tried to work with her mind, but being coherent was difficult. She hoped for salvation from this. But with everything going on.. she could feel that window closing very fast. Her hand continued to move. So much she wished to convey but not enough time. There was never enough time. She was familiar with that feeling, made evident every time a killer cyborg had come back. And doubly so now with her own mortality waning with each moment.
Sarah wheezed again, more cough, feeling weaker, her breathing more shallow as she tried to have more air. But could not. More time, She only needed more time! Dammit. So much more to prepare for the future. And what if John came through the Seal? He would need guidance. She had no doubt he would have that, but the thought of her being absent for that, it was a heavy thought to have. And she liked teaching her skills to others. It had purpose, and more would need to be taught, more people that could arrive. But that hope was vanishing away. A tear escape her eye as she turned her head, tears weren't a public thing for her, she wasn't a sharer of feels to the populace. Usually internalized and dealt with alone. But as she lay here, helpless and in pain, her life ebbing away. She remembered those taken from her life. From violence and from the machines, from a future she hadn't wanted but had little choice to be part of. Until she faced it, prepared for it, and sometimes tried to prevent it. She remembered 1984. The men in the police station, the detectives who questioned her. Her mother who was killed and had her voice copied to lure her in. Ginger, her roommate and best friend, and the girl's lover Matt. And the father of her son. Kyle Reese. And later on.. Myles Dyson, taken from his family. And Sarah's brief fiance Charlie Dixon. And several others. She would give anything to have changed all that. But wishing it doesn't change a thing. So there was just regret. And a steeled resolve to fight back and make sure it doesn't happen again.
She also remembered her friends, and people she had helped in Lawrence. She remembered Quinn Fabray. With her baby and Puck. Jo Harvelle and the Roadhouse, working there and helping out at any chance opened to it. Emma Swan, a good person, a fighter for good that had sometimes reminded of herself, of baddassery and the will that mothers have to protect their sons against all odds, and Heaven help any who would even try to harm a child. So many people she had met. And so many students she had helped as well, which was now to end. She let out another heavy breath, labored more with the choking cough that came with it. She could swear she heard footsteps. Looking slowly, side view as she saw old boots. Trying to see more. But the man had crouched down and she did see him. He was young, almost a rugged look, a fighter but also a sort of innocence too. Old clothes and a camouflage overcoat. Sarah had an intake of breath, suddenly a look of recognition. But how? He was.. it couldn't be.. no, she was seeing things. Her hand rapidly pressed along her phone, then dropped it in her sudden surprise to this. Why hadn't she moved aside? Why? She knew the sound of explosions, she should have avoided it. But that was useless, she knew. No point in blaming herself.
The man had a compassionate hand on her shoulder, his eyes held love that they had shared, however brief in those last two days years ago. He spoke to her softly, speaking that he was proud of her, what she did here, and John would also be as well. His hand holding tightly to her, saying he always loved her and always will. She felt another tear from her eye, remembering him and what they'd lost. If only he had lived. That goddamn, unfeeling, destructive Machine. But how could she see him now. She had twice before, usually a hallucination at the time. Or it seemed. Now she wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure if this was even real. As she saw him here, heard him, the outside noises of chaos and pain of others in the complex seemed muffled, as if she couldn't hear much of anything anymore. She blinked, seeing his smile and the feeling between them. And then, she felt a haze, squinting again and she was alone yet again. Her strength lost, her muscles tenses in one last ditch effort to push the debris off her, rasping out a few choice words of profanity in defiance, before helpless once more. It had been worth a try. A fighter to the end. And then, breaths became slower, her heart beat slower. And slower. A sense of peace in her, that it would be all right. Or it may be denial. She felt the last breath and heart pace, slowing even more. Until finally... there was none. All stopped. Sarah J. Connor was no longer among us.