She Ain't Heavy
Title :: She Ain’t Heavy
Rating :: FR13
Disclaimer :: Dark Angel and all related characters are copyright James Cameron, Cameron/Eglee Production and Twentieth Century Fox Network. No infringement intended. Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles and all related characters are copyright of Josh Friedman, Fox Television and James Cameron.
Prompt :: dharkcharlotte
/Sarah Connor, Zack/Terminator:SCC, Dark Angel/ Post John's jump forward. The Pulse happens after the jump but doesn't stop the machines. Sarah somehow comes into contact with Zack and he decides to stick with her, using her as a cover and is eventually converted to her cause. With his help, they gather several of the other escapees to train and build and army for the resistance.
Note :: Sorry, but I couldn’t see the Pulse happening and the machines still taking over. So went a different route on that angle. She Ain’t HeavyPresidential Address
June 1, 2009
“On behalf of the American people, I thank the scientists and employees of Cyberdyne System Corporation. America will never forget the lengths this privately owned corporation went to, to stop a terrorist attack on American soil. We are in their debit …”
April 9, 2010
It was a state of being that Sarah Connor was intimately familiar with and yet she still felt betrayed by her body and the cells, her own damn cells, wreaking havoc on her insides. The doctors called it Adult Acute Myeloid Leukemia, but Sarah called it her murderer. She knew, because of TinMan, she knew this would kill her, but still she fought because death sentence or not she had a son and a future to protect. She would fight this until her last breath and strive to give herself just a few more seconds, but until the end came she needed to drag herself free of her bed.
Blue eyes narrowed on the slow moving fan casting shadows on her ceiling before she struggled from beneath the sheets and put bare feet against cool wood. A shiver and a twisting of her mouth accompanied her rise from the bed, the room only tilted slightly and her stomach stayed steady allowing Sarah to make her way from the bedroom and towards the kitchen and the promise of caffeine. Coffee wasn’t necessarily the best thing for her to drown herself in, but it was better for her immune system then the bottle of vodka chilling in the freezer.
Her hand found the doorframe to her bedroom, thin fingers wrapping around it as she took a moment to just breathe and curse the chemotherapy weakening her already failing body. Her shoulders squared, rolling back as she released the doorframe and stepped into that hall. She ignored the fact that it stretched out incredibly long in front of her as she forced one foot in front of the other, making her way past blank walls in peeling wallpaper. If she was honest with herself she’d admit that her entire home was just as Spartan and unremarkable. The only reason she’d decorated before had been because of John, to give him some sense of normalcy when and where she could. Sarah had lived too long out of a bag, out a car that allowing herself to settle down chaffed worse than an IV.
Wood fell away and tile was suddenly beneath her feet, just as cold, but more welcome since it meant she’d made it out of the hallway and into the kitchen. Formica and cream colored appliances greeted her, mocked her as she made her way to the refrigerator and the coffee grounds she kept in the freezer, next to the vodka. The door opened and goosebumps prickled her skin, reminded her that she hadn’t bothered to grab her robe on the way out of the bedroom as she shivered in just a tank top and underwear. She caught ahold of the red and black container and spun, slamming the freezer door with her elbow and dragged her tired body towards the coffeemaker.
The subtle thump, thump of sneakered-feet tightened her shoulders, widened blue eyes and she kept her back to the kitchen as she stepped up the maker, settled the coffee grounds beside it and opened the cupboard door in front of her. Both hands snaked inside, her left settling on the stack of filters as her right freed the Glock from the holster she’d duct taped to the wall, it was one of many guns she had hidden sporadically throughout the home.
Her next breath left her with a sigh and she spun, scattering the filters to the floor around her and her gun was directly in front of her, pointed at the slim form of a young boy staring at her with narrowed eyes. He clutched a can of her soda in one hand and her bread in another and a surprisingly strong, most likely stubborn, chin rose and his blue eyes bored into her own as she continued to study him through the sights of her gun. His image wavered, tattered clothing revealed as Sarah lowered her hand just a bit, dropped her gun to point at his chest rather then his head.
That head inclined and Sarah frowned before stating, “I had milk.” Blue eyes widened before he took a step back and flicked them towards her back door and the relative safety of the outside world. A frown tugged her brow further together and down and she lowered the Glock before she dropped it and before the kid noticed the trembling of her arm. “Milk is better for you at your age.”
“I think you need it more.”
The oddly deep cadence of his voice raised her brows even as his words registered and her hand itched to raise the gun, but the quivering muscles of her back told a different story. Instead she inclined her head and offered, “Really, why’s that?”
“You’re sick.” Blunt and cutting right to the point, the kid could’ve taken lessons from the TinMan in tact.
“So you steal from the sick?” The question caught him off guard and he glanced down, studied the contents in his hand and his shoulders rose and fell with a sigh before he lifted his right arm and offered her back the soda. “Keep it,” the confused look she got in response made Sarah smirk, “I’ve got plenty more.”
His fingers danced over the metal a moment before he dropped it back to his side and turned, taking two steps to the door before he paused, muttered under his breath, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she waited until he made it to the door before offering, “Do you want something to go between that bread?” He turned back to her, his gaze searching her face before a hesitant nod dropped his chin. “Come on back then.”
The kid stayed hovering beside the door to the outside, watching her warily as she moved back to the refrigerator and opened it with her left hand, kept the Glock ready in her right. The cold startled her again and Sarah ignored her own weakness as she bent to gather ham and prepackaged cheese before turning and kicking the door closed. Blue eyes watched her every move as she made her way towards him and paused a few feet away and offered him the selection. The soda transferred to the same bag as the bread and he stepped forward, reaching out for the other items and Sarah lifted them slightly and his eyes flicked to hers.
“My name’s Sarah.”
His throat worked, mouth falling into a thin line before he sighed and stated, “Zack.”
“Well Zack,” she lowered her hand and he snatched the food, tucking it tight against his chest, “You need more. Come see me—”
“Liar,” his mouth turned down into an ugly frown that had Sarah shaking her head and offering, “I need help around here. I’m sick, remember?” His frown slipped a little as he gazed up at her face and she finished, “I’ll pay you.”
A moment passed and Sarah sighed, almost giving up when the stubborn line of his mouth lifted and he stated, “I’ll think about it,” the words left his mouth and the backdoor was suddenly open and he was gone.
Sarah stepped forward and peered out; saw Zack was jogging his way across her backyard towards the dirt road that led onto her property. The safety was eased forward with her thumb and she brought the lightweight gun up and nudged the door closed with it before she turned back to her kitchen and set back to work making herself a pot of coffee. The end.