SCC Fic: Twenty Minutes
Character: Derek Reese
Rating: PG, Gen
Spoilers: general for Season 1
W/C: 1100
Summary: There's something missing when he looks in the mirror.
A/N: Renew this show, FOX! Don't let me get sucked into this fandom for nothing!
The ritual is old, something out of childhood: hold the toothbrush parallel to the vanity and squeeze the tube so the blue stuff comes out along the bristles. This kind has little silver sparkles in it and he watches them glitter in the light before putting the brush in his mouth.
The mint flavoring explodes on his tongue and gums, so unexpectedly strong he has to cough a little. But it's good too - the only strong tastes he remembers are the pepper sauces that disguise the taste of slightly spoiled food.
"You only need a pea-sized amount," his mother told him, and he can recall how she was trying to be irritated at his wastefulness, but there was amusement in her voice, because he had toothpaste dripping off the end of his brush making a bright blue puddle. "That's too much. Don't swallow it, honey."
He can feel her standing next to him, a tall and protective presence, and recall the gentle touch of her hand as she smoothed his hair. Sarah stands next to John in the much the same way. He doubts many things about her, but never that she's willing to give everything to save John.
His mother never had the same chance, killed when the shockwave had come off the ocean and knocked over downtown like Kyle's blocks. One of the only things he's ever prayed for is that her death was instant, and she never knew Judgment Day had come.
He likes to think that she'd be proud of how he and Kyle grew up and fought the machines. He could tell her - she's here, she's alive in this time. She's not even that far away. The temptation to visit her and warn her is always there, hanging at the corner of his mind.
He stops brushing his teeth for a moment, lifting his gaze to the mirror. His reflection is the hardened, haunted man he's become, not the boy he remembers so distinctly. She won't know him. Worse, she might be afraid of him, and he thinks seeing fear might be the last thing that will break him into pieces.
But he's still going to go see Kyle. John deserves a chance to see his father. His father -- Derek is rueful it took him so long to figure out the truth. John looks so much like Kyle at the same age, it's a wonder it fools anyone.
Resuming brushing his teeth, he quirks a bit of a smile at the thought of Kyle.
"It's the fucking end of the world, and you want me to brush my teeth?" Kyle demanded, staring at him with an eight-year-old's belligerence. Derek knew the tantrum had nothing to do with brushing his teeth, so he waited patiently. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"Brush your teeth, Kyle, and stop saying fuck all the fucking time."
"Fuck you, you're not dad. You can't tell me what to do." He threw the toothbrush at Derek, who caught it with a snap of his wrist.
"You want your teeth to rot and fall out?" Derek asked him.
"What difference does it make?" Kyle demanded furiously, suddenly on the brink of tears and quivering, hands fisted at his sides.
Derek grabbed Kyle and shoved him into the wall. "Listen to me, you little baby," he hissed. "We've stayed alive all this time. Because the Reeses aren't quitters, you get me? We're not gonna give up and play dead and let the machines win. And maybe we'll die, but it's gonna be because we were fighting, not because we gave up. Do you hear me?"
Kyle's eyes went huge in his thin face and he swallowed hard before he nodded.
"Good. Fighting also means we take care of ourselves. So brush your fucking teeth." He shoved the toothbrush back into Kyle's hand.
He bends to spit and turns on the water to rinse the sink. The swirl of water -- the sound -- is mesmerizing - such a simple thing, taken for granted here.
They take so much for granted. Food, running water, sunlight…
Peace.
He watches the television and laughs to himself at these little things they call wars. And then he wants to shake them all and tell them to stop fighting over stupid things when the world's going to end in four years.
Four years. Sometimes that seems like an eternity - that they have all the time in the world to stop Judgment Day. But usually it seems too close. There's not enough time. Then the panic starts to claw at his throat and his chest at the thought that he might have to live through it all again.
He brushes some more, trying to concentrate on the feel of the handle in his hand and the bristles in his mouth. There were good times too - he tries to remember that. Like getting drunk at John's thirtieth …
John stood up, swaying, demanding loudly, "What do we have the machines don't?"
Even mostly drunk, Derek knew he was supposed to say something like 'courage' or 'compassion.' But instead he whipped out the toothbrush from his inner pocket and held it up like a flag. "Good oral hygiene!"
Kyle hit him, while John and the rest dissolved into helpless laughter that lasted a long, long time…
There will be time. He'll make it be enough time, if he has to kill everyone involved in Skynet with his bare hands.
Sarah comes in, interrupting his thoughts, and tells him he's been brushing his teeth for twenty minutes.
After she's gone, he stares after her. That can't be right. Twenty minutes?
He fishes the toothbrush out of the trash can and runs it under the water, feeling as though everything is suddenly slightly wrong. When did he lose that much awareness of his surroundings?
When he looks at his reflection, really looks, he fears there's something missing. Something in his mind that should be there isn't there anymore. And it's not the last twenty minutes either.
Putting the toothbrush on the shelf, he tries to shake it off. He wants to believe it's because he's not fully recovered and he's losing his edge in all this quiet.
He lifts his eyes to the mirror again and freezes.
She's standing behind him, in the doorway. The Connors' pet Terminator.
Her eyes meet his in the reflection. Instead of her usual blank stare though, she's smiling at him, sweetly, like an actual beautiful young woman.
But he tenses all through his body, and his instincts scream at him that he's in danger. He whirls to confront her, reaching for a weapon he doesn't have.
The doorway is empty.
Panting he sags back against the sink, then turns to splash water on his face, trying to calm down. He clutches the edge of the vanity, breathing deeply to get his head back together and trying not to think of anything at all.
He avoids looking in the mirror again before he finally leaves.
Rating: PG, Gen
Spoilers: general for Season 1
W/C: 1100
Summary: There's something missing when he looks in the mirror.
A/N: Renew this show, FOX! Don't let me get sucked into this fandom for nothing!
The ritual is old, something out of childhood: hold the toothbrush parallel to the vanity and squeeze the tube so the blue stuff comes out along the bristles. This kind has little silver sparkles in it and he watches them glitter in the light before putting the brush in his mouth.
The mint flavoring explodes on his tongue and gums, so unexpectedly strong he has to cough a little. But it's good too - the only strong tastes he remembers are the pepper sauces that disguise the taste of slightly spoiled food.
"You only need a pea-sized amount," his mother told him, and he can recall how she was trying to be irritated at his wastefulness, but there was amusement in her voice, because he had toothpaste dripping off the end of his brush making a bright blue puddle. "That's too much. Don't swallow it, honey."
He can feel her standing next to him, a tall and protective presence, and recall the gentle touch of her hand as she smoothed his hair. Sarah stands next to John in the much the same way. He doubts many things about her, but never that she's willing to give everything to save John.
His mother never had the same chance, killed when the shockwave had come off the ocean and knocked over downtown like Kyle's blocks. One of the only things he's ever prayed for is that her death was instant, and she never knew Judgment Day had come.
He likes to think that she'd be proud of how he and Kyle grew up and fought the machines. He could tell her - she's here, she's alive in this time. She's not even that far away. The temptation to visit her and warn her is always there, hanging at the corner of his mind.
He stops brushing his teeth for a moment, lifting his gaze to the mirror. His reflection is the hardened, haunted man he's become, not the boy he remembers so distinctly. She won't know him. Worse, she might be afraid of him, and he thinks seeing fear might be the last thing that will break him into pieces.
But he's still going to go see Kyle. John deserves a chance to see his father. His father -- Derek is rueful it took him so long to figure out the truth. John looks so much like Kyle at the same age, it's a wonder it fools anyone.
Resuming brushing his teeth, he quirks a bit of a smile at the thought of Kyle.
"It's the fucking end of the world, and you want me to brush my teeth?" Kyle demanded, staring at him with an eight-year-old's belligerence. Derek knew the tantrum had nothing to do with brushing his teeth, so he waited patiently. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"Brush your teeth, Kyle, and stop saying fuck all the fucking time."
"Fuck you, you're not dad. You can't tell me what to do." He threw the toothbrush at Derek, who caught it with a snap of his wrist.
"You want your teeth to rot and fall out?" Derek asked him.
"What difference does it make?" Kyle demanded furiously, suddenly on the brink of tears and quivering, hands fisted at his sides.
Derek grabbed Kyle and shoved him into the wall. "Listen to me, you little baby," he hissed. "We've stayed alive all this time. Because the Reeses aren't quitters, you get me? We're not gonna give up and play dead and let the machines win. And maybe we'll die, but it's gonna be because we were fighting, not because we gave up. Do you hear me?"
Kyle's eyes went huge in his thin face and he swallowed hard before he nodded.
"Good. Fighting also means we take care of ourselves. So brush your fucking teeth." He shoved the toothbrush back into Kyle's hand.
He bends to spit and turns on the water to rinse the sink. The swirl of water -- the sound -- is mesmerizing - such a simple thing, taken for granted here.
They take so much for granted. Food, running water, sunlight…
Peace.
He watches the television and laughs to himself at these little things they call wars. And then he wants to shake them all and tell them to stop fighting over stupid things when the world's going to end in four years.
Four years. Sometimes that seems like an eternity - that they have all the time in the world to stop Judgment Day. But usually it seems too close. There's not enough time. Then the panic starts to claw at his throat and his chest at the thought that he might have to live through it all again.
He brushes some more, trying to concentrate on the feel of the handle in his hand and the bristles in his mouth. There were good times too - he tries to remember that. Like getting drunk at John's thirtieth …
John stood up, swaying, demanding loudly, "What do we have the machines don't?"
Even mostly drunk, Derek knew he was supposed to say something like 'courage' or 'compassion.' But instead he whipped out the toothbrush from his inner pocket and held it up like a flag. "Good oral hygiene!"
Kyle hit him, while John and the rest dissolved into helpless laughter that lasted a long, long time…
There will be time. He'll make it be enough time, if he has to kill everyone involved in Skynet with his bare hands.
Sarah comes in, interrupting his thoughts, and tells him he's been brushing his teeth for twenty minutes.
After she's gone, he stares after her. That can't be right. Twenty minutes?
He fishes the toothbrush out of the trash can and runs it under the water, feeling as though everything is suddenly slightly wrong. When did he lose that much awareness of his surroundings?
When he looks at his reflection, really looks, he fears there's something missing. Something in his mind that should be there isn't there anymore. And it's not the last twenty minutes either.
Putting the toothbrush on the shelf, he tries to shake it off. He wants to believe it's because he's not fully recovered and he's losing his edge in all this quiet.
He lifts his eyes to the mirror again and freezes.
She's standing behind him, in the doorway. The Connors' pet Terminator.
Her eyes meet his in the reflection. Instead of her usual blank stare though, she's smiling at him, sweetly, like an actual beautiful young woman.
But he tenses all through his body, and his instincts scream at him that he's in danger. He whirls to confront her, reaching for a weapon he doesn't have.
The doorway is empty.
Panting he sags back against the sink, then turns to splash water on his face, trying to calm down. He clutches the edge of the vanity, breathing deeply to get his head back together and trying not to think of anything at all.
He avoids looking in the mirror again before he finally leaves.