DISCLAIMER: The Sarah Connor Chronicles and its characters are the propert of James Cameron and Fox. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
In This Moment We Shall Remain
By shyath
Sarah has sat out on the top of the porch staircase for sometime now. The sun is setting and the last of its rays bathe Sarah in an impossibly gentle glow, ironic considering the gun swinging easily from one hand. There is a sense of contentment and security about the older woman that seems to extend beyond the air around her because Sarah fails to flinch or, really, react in any manner as Cameron cautiously claims the space next to her.
The terminator has never seen this quiet side of Sarah, but she decides it is a side she very much likes and will no doubt very much enjoy seeing a little more often. So, the Tin Miss sits next to Sarah Connor and does nothing but remain as still as Sarah seems to wish her to be and stores away the memory of this particular moment for future recollection.
Sarah concedes that being alone and doing so in silence, living the way she does, is quite the blessing. It is only when it is this quiet that she can actually hear her own thoughts so loudly, so clearly. And while she may not know whether these thoughts of hers are relevant or irrelevant, necessary or unnecessary – there is something about this short-lived peace (however misleading the notion may be) that appeals to that part of her she has assumed to have been buried for good.
Sarah also understands that it is quite ironic and very much an oxymoron to have the sentiment she seems to have regarding this lull in activity – that it is in fact thrilling. But, she reasons, having lived the way she has and obviously needing to live the way she will need to, peaceful moments, such as this one that she is having, are the ones that she will need to particularly cherish.
But, even so – the comfort that comes from this silence can be so much more pronounced when it is shared with someone else who understands its value. So, it is not a far-fetched notion that Sarah can find pleasure in Cameron's company, that she can enjoy sitting side by side with the terminator in a space that cannot ever be intended for two adults. Especially because Cameron seems to understand Sarah's need to maintain 'the moment'.
In the silence that prevails, Sarah can almost pretend that they are just Sarah and Cameron. Not, respectively, the mother of the future saviour of mankind and the terminator who is fighting to make sure there is a future for mankind. No, they are not assuming their proper roles. They are not doing anything more strenuous than attempting (and maybe succeeding; not that Sarah is paying much attention to how Cameron is working on regulating and matching her breathing patterns to hers) to breathe in sync.
"What are you thinking about?" Cameron whispers and she is gentle as she breaks the silence – as if she, like Sarah, loathes the idea of not extending the silence further than they have already taken it.
"Nothing," Sarah answers and she is truthful, surprising herself. "And everything."
"I do not understand," Cameron declares, turning to face Sarah.
Sarah refuses to look at Cameron and she stifles the smile that begs to grace her lips. Instead, she tries to be gracious when she finally replies, "I don't expect you to understand."
"Okay," Cameron comments in a tone Sarah can only describe as petulant. Sarah fights not to turn to check the expression Cameron has on her face to match the tone she has used.
"It's just – I like this," Sarah says exasperatedly, not quite sure why she feels the need to explain herself and to Cameron, of all people (or non-people).
"This?" Cameron enquires curiously; bouncing back so quickly that Sarah suspects that the bad mood is only a ruse.
"This silence," Sarah explains, gesturing expansively at their surroundings. "Us," she tells Cameron in a remarkably shy tone. Taking into account all the things they have done (to each other, together and, sometimes, to themselves while in each other's company), it really should be easier for her, but it takes Sarah all she has to place a hand on Cameron's bare thigh. "I like this," she clarifies, gently squeezing the skin beneath her palm. "It almost feels normal."
"Are we not normal?" Cameron asks, drawing a confused frown. "It is my understanding that women can and will be attracted to other women -"
"No," Sarah interrupts Cameron with a chuckle. "Our – circumstances, if you will, what we have to do and what we have to live with." Sarah shifts in her seat and leans in towards Cameron. "Considering everything, what we have is probably the most normal thing in our lives. Of course, that's dispensing with the fact that you came from the future and are nowhere near human – but that's not important." Sarah smiles gently at Cameron and brings her hand up to cup Cameron's cheek, shifting a little in her seat so that their knees touch. Running her thumb across Cameron's cheekbone, she says sincerely, "You are, surprisingly, the one constant in my life, Cameron. And I probably won't admit it if asked, but I won't have it any other way."
Cameron smiles back at Sarah and she closes her eyes as she leans into Sarah's touch. "I like this too, Sarah," she remarks in a monotone that cannot suit the moment, but surprisingly does anyway. "And I like you." She opens her eyes and brings her own hand up to cover the one Sarah has on her cheek. "I love you."
Sarah smiles a little stiffly at the confession (and it is not the first time Cameron has told her these words, but it may very well be the first time she feels the urge to respond in kind – no, not yet), blushes profusely and has to clear her throat several times before she is quite sure of herself to begin stringing a sentence together. "I like you, too," Sarah tells Cameron, staring meaningfully at Cameron as she places emphasis on the word 'like'. There is a voice inside of her head that is nagging her to just come out and tell the terminator what and how she feels for her. How unfortunate that I can't just shoot you, Sarah snipes back at herself. Bite me, the voice replies. Great, talking to myself, I suppose that is the next logical step after all I've lived through. "We should go inside," Sarah says when she realises that Cameron is waiting for her to finish or something.
Cameron nods obediently and stands up promptly. She offers a hand gallantly to Sarah, who rolls her eyes at the display of chivalry, but accepts the hand proffered nonetheless.
Sarah makes to head back inside to start dinner (or start burning something and then give up before she allows John to order pizzas), but Cameron's hand on her elbow stops her. "What is it, Cameron?"
"May I come tonight, Sarah?" Cameron asks in a deceptively innocent tone, but her expression says all that her words fail or refuse to – the promise of what is to occur that very night and the three words Cameron have declared earlier echo louder than they ever have the right to.
Sarah tries not to blink, but blink she does and she feels the embarrassing beginning of a blush (once again). She quickly wheels around to hide her face from Cameron's observant gaze. She marches to the door and yanks it open, but she manages to toss out what she hopes can pass as casual, "Yeah, you may come tonight." She refuses to acknowledge the burning gaze following her as she walks away from Cameron and retreats back into the house. She has enough to worry about before night comes and brings with it Cameron and her sweet words.
The End