360 Degrees by Gatekeeper

Old resistance fighters don't die. They just...

...Well, I haven't quite figured out that part yet. As far as I can tell, most of us don't ever expect to get old.

John catches my eye from across the table, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as he realizes what I've been thinking. He's done a bit better at it, my brave, strong son -- a sergeant in the U.S. Army, with any advancement opportunities he wants right at his fingertips. For now, though, he's comfortable where he is, keeping an eye on things and using his many talents to inspire the soldiers both below and above him to the most unshakeable of loyalties.

His father would be so proud.

Attempting a smile, I'd never really relearned the expression, even on those few occasions where I mean it, I take a sip of the uniformly horrible Starbucks coffee that both of us had gotten hooked on. "Shouldn't you be spending your leave in Las Vegas or something, instructing your men in the fine art of whoring?"

Amused, John shakes his head. "Believe me, the men don't need any of my mighty leadership in that department. They do just fine in their own." His face softens slightly. "Besides, I've still got kind of a soft spot for this family bonding crap."

A moment of heavy, throat-thickening silence, then John clears his throat and pushes us along. "So, how's your job as CyberDyne watchdog coming along?"

"Fine, just fine. Dyson and I still have our... understanding." Namely, that I would keep abreast of every new project, and kill anything that looked even remotely like Skynet or a Terminator. A masters degree in computer technology tended to help things along though I still get twinges sometimes, wondering what Kyle would have thought. "How are things on your end?"

"Not bad." He takes a drink of his own coffee and grimaces, though I couldn't tell whether it was because of the taste or the question I asked. "Though not exactly good, either. They keep handing me new recruits to keep an eye on. Special projects, they say."

I shrug. "I can't blame them. You have a way with the younger ones." Kyle had certainly been impressed, ready and willing to do anything he had to for his commander. If only he had known...

"So I've been told. Actually, they finally managed to send me a decent one this time. Intelligent, good fighter, quick and more than willing to learn." His mouth quirks up again, as if he knows something I don't. "You'd probably even like this one, Mom."

Not unless he can build a pipe bomb with groceries and has the most beautiful green eyes I will ever see. The words don't leave my mouth but John hears them anyway, and I hurry ahead to get that look off his face. "Maybe -- even I've let my standards slip. But I doubt I'll get to meet him."

"Actually, he came to town with me. Wanted me to show him around." John's voice is deliberately casual, setting off any number of warning bells in my head. "If he keeps this up, I might almost be tempted to get friendly with him."

I wasn't listening. "John..." What in the hell are you planning? "Is this like..."

"The biker guy I tried to set you up with in college? Not in the slightest." He takes another sip of coffee, eyes straying to the window. "Besides, he really wants to meet you. What else could I do?"

"John..." I used to be more threatening. I know I used to be more threatening.

He shakes his head. "Doesn't work anymore, Mom, though I still say you could stare Major Whitehall down any day." His eyes move back to the window, and he gets the signal he's been looking for. "Here he comes. Play nice."

I silence my growl before the teenagers over at the next table get concerned and shift around to the doorway, ready to get my first look at the enemy. My own son may not be terrified of me anymore, but... "I don't know how to play..."

Then the Starbucks door opens, and the breath freezes in my lungs. It's... He's...

Gently, John moves the cup away from my suddenly nerveless fingers. "Told you you'd like him, Mom," he says softly. "You can kick my ass later if you want."

"Like him?" some part of me manages to whisper, but the rest of me is screaming too loud to hear it. Damn it, I should have known, should have guessed that something like this could happen and rip more than 20 years of defenses right out from under me. Those damn time loops...

Then he's here, and my brain shuts down completely.

"Private Reese, glad you decided to accept my offer." John shakes his hand, warmer than I've ever seen him with anyone. "Pull up a chair."

"Wouldn't want to intrude, sir." Kyle's eyes flick in my direction, almost despite themselves. "I just..."

"Of course." The corner of John's mouth moves upward again as he sweeps a hand out. "Private Reese, this is my mother, Sarah Connor."

My hand moves with no command from me, shocking me into life only as Kyle's fingers close around mine. The same eyes, same jaw, same surprisingly soft mouth, same warm wiry strength that I've clung to for the last half of my life... Time loops itself in my head, and decades fall away as our eyes lock together.

"It's... it's an honor, ma'am." His voice is surprisingly rough, and neither of us feel the slightest urge to pull away. "I've heard... a lot about you. You're an amazing woman."

Finally, my voice comes. "Please, call me Sarah."

THE END