Disclaimer: I own nothing. Terminator: Salvation and BtVS do not belong to me or Buffy and Marcus would be all up on each other. I believe I have things vaguely correct -disregarding the time line- but if there is something just so dang wrong you can't stand it please tell me. First ficlet thingy ever, so please please please let me know what you think! Or just think good thoughts, if you don't have time to review :P
For the past fourteen hours, thirty-three minutes, and twenty-eight seconds, Kyle Reese’s motto had been “Don’t Panic.” When he and Starr were taken by the metal, “Don’t Panic” had become a lifeline he refused to let go of. When Marcus, who seemed to have no idea about the war raging around him, had landed on the prisoner transport ship and attempted to bust them out, Kyle had gone against all his experience and actually allowed himself to hope that they would get out of this in one piece. That same hope was violently crushed, minutes later, when Marcus was ripped off the side of the ship and flung into the sky and inevitably the certain death on the ground below. Kyle had allowed himself exactly ten minutes of mourning for a man he liked but barely knew before he forced himself to refocus on the situation he and his small, silent companion had found themselves in. When all the prisoners had been corralled, like animals, into the pens and then into the irregular lines, he had kept his calm. A small chance of luck had let him find a steel rod to hide in his sleeve, but that was apparently the last luck fate had for him. One moment he had been next to Starr, carefully analyzing everything around him and silently thanking whatever power had put that rod in his path, and the next he was being picked up by a larger guard metal, whisked away from Starr to some unknown fate. At some point he realized the metal had dosed him; his last conscious thought was that it had only been two hours since he, Marcus, and Starr had set out to find John Connor.
When he woke up next, Kyle Reese found himself in a prison cell. He could see a hallway through the clear door to the prison, but that was the only view he was afforded besides the white walls. After exploring every inch of his 6 pace by 10 pace cell, Kyle sat in the corner and planned. The rod was no longer in his possession, but seeing as how he was alive he guessed the metal had something bigger than just torture in store for him. What that could be was a mystery, but keeping him isolated and in a quiet environment was their mistake. Since he could remember, Kyle planned better in a place with no noise or visual distractions. The longer he had in solitude the better the plan would be, and if they intended to give him the time and quiet he needed to figure out an escape plan, he was going to take full advantage. Folding himself into a back corner, he sat facing the door, reviewing everything he knew and needed to find out in order to escape from this hell-hole of a camp with Starr and re-join the resistance.
It had been six hours, three minutes, and twenty seconds when Kyle was startled out of his plotting to the sound of someone being forced into the cell next door. He had heard the metal’s steps, but refused to open his eyes and see the machine unless he calculated that it had stopped before his door. When the steps passed by him, he relaxed a fraction, but at that same instance became aware that someone else had become important enough to share the prison the machines had thrown him in. Realistically, he had come to the conclusion that he was in something more similar to a holding cell than a permanent prison; surely the machines would have more than one person in such a large camp deserving of their own cell, but yet Kyle had not heard anyone near him for a couple of hours or so until now. To his surprise, the speaker was female, with a Californian twist to her language as she berated the machines he assumed were physically carrying her into the cell.
“Hey now, you metal asshat, just because you broke a girls legs does NOT mean you get to carry her like a damn sack of potatoes. Put me DOWN, you overgrown microwave!” Kyle could only stare at the wall, in awe of a woman who was talking to the machines in such a fashion, especially if she was as injured as her remarks indicated. What he noticed more, however, was the way in which she spoke- she sounded out of breathe, almost shaky, which revealed to him that she was, perhaps, more injured than her bravado let on. He heard a distinct thump as the machine granted her wish and deposited her on the ground, and then the footsteps as the metal disappeared from the corridor. He waited a good five minutes to make sure that the machine was not coming back, and was opening his mouth to attempt to contact his fellow prisoner when she beat him to it.
“…So, how has your day been going?” Such a mundane question, asked by a woman he couldn’t see but could clearly tell was injured, shocked Kyle into something he had not done in a long time- laugh. He laughed for an inappropriately long amount of time, but he believed she had known why and was silently waiting for him to regain his sanity. He wrapped it around him, his security blanket of calm, collected, and “Don’t Panic” and spoke out to the woman he couldn’t see.
“My name is Kyle Reese, Resistance Fighter, L.A. Branch.” His declaration was met by silence, and he shifted and contemplated whether he should speak again or wait. He was rewarded and relieved when she spoke again, a much stronger voice that almost managed to hide the wheeze of broken ribs underlying it.
“My name is Buffy Summers, Resistance Fighter, Serenity Valley Base Commander at your service.”
A/N "Don't Panic" is a major theme in the Movie "HitchHiker's Guide to the Galaxy" and probably the Douglas Adams (?) book it is based on. Serenity Valley is a tribute to firefly