Knives For Hands || John Connor

xiii. Miles Bennett Dyson

john sat closest to the window. he faced it, biting his nails and didn't speak to either of them. (y/n) didn't really know how to comfort him, so she did the only thing that made sense. she leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder while taking his free hand in her own.

"this is tactically dangerous," the terminator said suddenly.

the two briefly looked at him. (y/n) lifted her head off john to glance at him, but then lowered it again without responding.

"drive faster," john snapped. this whole situation was starting to get to him, and (y/n) didn't blame him. he'd rescued his mom, who didn't show any appreciation whatsoever, and now she's taken off on some solo mission.

"the t-1000 has the same files that i do. it knows what i know. it may anticipate this move."

"i don't care. we gotta stop her," john said shortly, and then turned to look out the window again.

"killing dyson might actually prevent the war," the terminator told them, turning to look at the two.

(y/n) sat up. john was getting angrier the more this conversation carried out. he whipped his head in the terminator's direction. "i don't care!" he yelled, "haven't you learned anything yet? haven't you figured out why you can't kill people?"

(y/n) looked at john, and then turned and gave a sympathetic look to the terminator. "look," (y/n) interjected, "maybe you don't care if you live or you die, but everybody, humans, we aren't like that. we have feelings, we hurt, we're afraid."

"you gotta learn this stuff," john huffed. "i'm not kidding, it's important,"

ꫛ

they pulled into the driveway of miles dyson's house, immediately taking in notice of the visibly destroyed room.

"shit. we're too late," (y/n) whispered, jogging up to the front door alongside john. the terminator walked between them and ripped the door open.

they both barreled through the door, john immediately running to his mom. he crouched next to her and looked up at (y/n) and the terminator. "check them," he instructed, vaguely gesturing towards the family cowering on the floor.

as she walked over to them, she noticed the condition sarah had left the man in. dyson was shot in one shoulder, laying on the floor while a woman and kid crouched over top of him. a strangled noise escaped the woman's throat. "don't worry. we're not going to hurt you," (y/n) assured.

john sat in the floor a few feet away with his mother. she has tear stains on her cheeks. "i almost.. i almost.." she whispered. john wrapped his arms around her while she sobbed into his shoulder.

john pulled away and whispered, "it'll be okay. we'll figure something out, okay? promise."

"you came here to stop me."

"yeah, i did," john said hesitantly in the same hushed tone they've both been using.

"i love you, john," she whispered. she took a shaky breath and continued, "i always have."

"i know." john grabbed her and held her in another tight hug.

ꫛ