FIC: Crawling to the Moon
Jun. 3rd, 2008 08:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficwizeTitle: Crawling to the Moon
Fandom: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (with heavy influences from the first movie)
Prompt: A woman with scars as requested by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rosehiptea
Warnings: None, really, if you've seen the first movie.
Rating: Teen
Summary: Sometimes one imperfection makes everything else so much more beautiful.
Pairings: Kyle Reese/Sarah Connor
Disclaimer: I don't own the fandom.
A/N: Written for June!challenge Day 3 at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_on_demand. Many thanks to musesinspire for the beta and for pushing me to make it better. Also, the title comes from Scar Tissue by The Red Hot Chili Peppers.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
Derek never understood Kyle's fascination with Sarah Connor. Truthfully, Kyle wasn't fully sure he even knew why John had slipped him the picture to begin with, but it had given him something to focus on in the Century Prison Camp besides the gnawing hunger in his belly and the overwhelming knowledge that he was going to die.
He slipped the picture out at night and looked at in the glow of the lights that constantly scanned the camp. She was pretty - astonishingly so, in Kyle's opinion. John was decent looking, but he obviously looked more like his father. He'd said as much to John one time and the older man had given him a peculiar look and shrugged it off.
Kyle let it go and figured that John's father must have been out of the picture when he was growing up. It wouldn't have been that unusual, especially given how obvious it was that John loved his mother. The way he spoke about her suggested that there hadn’t been that many other people to count on - although he occasionally referred to an uncle who had died shortly after Judgment Day.
What John lacked in willingness to discuss his father and other family, he made up for when he talked about his mother. He spoke constantly about her strength and intelligence, her determination and resolve, her grace and poise. By the time Kyle and John escaped Century Prison Camp together, Kyle was more than half in love with a woman who had been dead since he was barely more than a toddler.
He still took the picture out and studied it every night. "Why do you look at that thing so much?" Derek muttered. "It's creepy. Besides, you must have memorized everything on it by now."
"I was just wondering how she got that scar on her forehead," Kyle answered quietly. "Her face is perfect, except for that."
Derek grunted and left the bunk room for the showers. "Who cares?" he muttered as he left the tiny area that they had claimed for their own.
Kyle didn't answer. He was pretty sure Derek wouldn't understand that the one visible imperfection he had been able to find somehow made everything else so much more beautiful. Sighing, he tucked the picture back into his pocket. He didn't have the guts to ask John about it and Derek was right. It wasn't really that important.
**************
"Sarah, you're bleeding." Kyle caught her hand in alarm. They were safe - for now - in a ratty hotel room that Kyle didn't have the courage to tell Sarah was akin to Buckingham Palace compared to what he was used to. She was struggling with enough for now - enough fear, enough knowledge, enough helplessness.
"It's nothing." She smiled up at him, and he could see the strength and courage John had spoken about shining from her eyes. His heart constricted, but he forced himself to stay calm.
"Here," Kyle murmured, pulling her closer and pressing one of the bathroom wash clothes against it. "It's going to scar."
She let him doctor it, watching him silently the whole time. When he finished, she went and lay down on the bed, her expression thoughtful. He almost asked her what she was thinking, but left her to her privacy instead.
Twenty minutes later, Sarah was lying on the bed and Kyle was staring out of the window. He was supposed to be keeping watch, instead all he could think about was Sarah’s scar. He heard her move and come to sit behind him.
“Some legend,” she said, her voice shaking. “You must be so disappointed.”
“No. I’m not.”
She reached out and traced one of the scars that lined his back and he tensed. “The girls in your time,” she asked carefully. “Was there someone special?”
“No.” His voice was strangled and he looked away, embarrassed. “Never.”
“Never?” she whispered in disbelief. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Kyle swallowed and turned towards her. “John gave me a picture of you once. I didn’t know why.” He trailed off. “I came across time for you, Sarah. I love you. I always have.”
For a second, they sat in silence, and then he moved away from her. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
She followed him, catching his face and pulling him away from the homemade explosives he was thrusting into a bag. Gently, she tilted his face towards her so that she could kiss him.
"You're beautiful," Kyle whispered reverently against her lips. "So beautiful."
As they made love, Kyle brushed his lips over the injury on her forehead. Derek had been wrong. It mattered.
Fandom: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (with heavy influences from the first movie)
Prompt: A woman with scars as requested by
rosehipteaWarnings: None, really, if you've seen the first movie.
Rating: Teen
Summary: Sometimes one imperfection makes everything else so much more beautiful.
Pairings: Kyle Reese/Sarah Connor
Disclaimer: I don't own the fandom.
A/N: Written for June!challenge Day 3 at
fic_on_demand. Many thanks to musesinspire for the beta and for pushing me to make it better. Also, the title comes from Scar Tissue by The Red Hot Chili Peppers.As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
Derek never understood Kyle's fascination with Sarah Connor. Truthfully, Kyle wasn't fully sure he even knew why John had slipped him the picture to begin with, but it had given him something to focus on in the Century Prison Camp besides the gnawing hunger in his belly and the overwhelming knowledge that he was going to die.
He slipped the picture out at night and looked at in the glow of the lights that constantly scanned the camp. She was pretty - astonishingly so, in Kyle's opinion. John was decent looking, but he obviously looked more like his father. He'd said as much to John one time and the older man had given him a peculiar look and shrugged it off.
Kyle let it go and figured that John's father must have been out of the picture when he was growing up. It wouldn't have been that unusual, especially given how obvious it was that John loved his mother. The way he spoke about her suggested that there hadn’t been that many other people to count on - although he occasionally referred to an uncle who had died shortly after Judgment Day.
What John lacked in willingness to discuss his father and other family, he made up for when he talked about his mother. He spoke constantly about her strength and intelligence, her determination and resolve, her grace and poise. By the time Kyle and John escaped Century Prison Camp together, Kyle was more than half in love with a woman who had been dead since he was barely more than a toddler.
He still took the picture out and studied it every night. "Why do you look at that thing so much?" Derek muttered. "It's creepy. Besides, you must have memorized everything on it by now."
"I was just wondering how she got that scar on her forehead," Kyle answered quietly. "Her face is perfect, except for that."
Derek grunted and left the bunk room for the showers. "Who cares?" he muttered as he left the tiny area that they had claimed for their own.
Kyle didn't answer. He was pretty sure Derek wouldn't understand that the one visible imperfection he had been able to find somehow made everything else so much more beautiful. Sighing, he tucked the picture back into his pocket. He didn't have the guts to ask John about it and Derek was right. It wasn't really that important.
"Sarah, you're bleeding." Kyle caught her hand in alarm. They were safe - for now - in a ratty hotel room that Kyle didn't have the courage to tell Sarah was akin to Buckingham Palace compared to what he was used to. She was struggling with enough for now - enough fear, enough knowledge, enough helplessness.
"It's nothing." She smiled up at him, and he could see the strength and courage John had spoken about shining from her eyes. His heart constricted, but he forced himself to stay calm.
"Here," Kyle murmured, pulling her closer and pressing one of the bathroom wash clothes against it. "It's going to scar."
She let him doctor it, watching him silently the whole time. When he finished, she went and lay down on the bed, her expression thoughtful. He almost asked her what she was thinking, but left her to her privacy instead.
Twenty minutes later, Sarah was lying on the bed and Kyle was staring out of the window. He was supposed to be keeping watch, instead all he could think about was Sarah’s scar. He heard her move and come to sit behind him.
“Some legend,” she said, her voice shaking. “You must be so disappointed.”
“No. I’m not.”
She reached out and traced one of the scars that lined his back and he tensed. “The girls in your time,” she asked carefully. “Was there someone special?”
“No.” His voice was strangled and he looked away, embarrassed. “Never.”
“Never?” she whispered in disbelief. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Kyle swallowed and turned towards her. “John gave me a picture of you once. I didn’t know why.” He trailed off. “I came across time for you, Sarah. I love you. I always have.”
For a second, they sat in silence, and then he moved away from her. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
She followed him, catching his face and pulling him away from the homemade explosives he was thrusting into a bag. Gently, she tilted his face towards her so that she could kiss him.
"You're beautiful," Kyle whispered reverently against her lips. "So beautiful."
As they made love, Kyle brushed his lips over the injury on her forehead. Derek had been wrong. It mattered.
