Knives For Hands || John Connor

iv. Machinery

she stopped once they entered a room and checked around to see if anyone else hovered around. "it's me john, it's (y/n)," she gushed once she knew the room was clear. her eyes searched his in fear of his reaction.

"what the hell kind of sick joke is this? fuck you!" he glared at her and turned to go back to the waiting room. he passed her, purposely bumping shoulders with her in a rude manner.

"johnny, damnit, listen to me," she cried, screwing her eyes shut and just wishing this would all be over. she didn't want to be this stupid nurse and she didn't want to be in this hospital. she grabbed his arm in a last-ditch effort and whirled him around again.

she opened her eyes, tears threatening to pour down her cheeks as she said, "please." his eyes widened at the nurse's skin, which warbled into a metallic gray color and faded back to (y/n)'s original features.

"(y/n)?" john stared at her. she seemed completely fine other than the fact that she was crying. she was just shot, but there wasn't any evidence of it. "oh, god." before she could respond he charged her and wrapped her in the biggest hug she's probably ever had. "thank fucking god you're okay."

they were both crying at this point. they held each other and silently thanked whatever's out there for this. for (y/n) being okay, and for john being in her arms.

ꫛ

"so what all can you do?" john innocently asked, looking up at her from the ground and grinning. he held her eyes for a moment and then flicked them back down to the bag of mcdonald's he was holding.

she frowned. "i dunno," she thought about it for a minute, "i can turn into things. it's not like they gave me an instruction manual." she plopped down next to john on the floor and reached into the bag for a fry.

"well, what'd you do to trigger the thing last time?" he questioned, still stuffing his face with his burger.

"thought about it."

"think about it again, then, smokes." his hair dangled in his face and she wanted to adjust it, but she kept her hands to herself. she laughed softly at his remark and shrugged.

she thought about the whole transfusion thing that guy was talking about. what was that? what did they mean? does she have any more? nothing happened. she frowned.

"your little tip is bullshit."

"hey! no, it's not," john said through a mouthful of fries. "it was plenty helpful."

"john!" john's foster mom, janelle screamed from the front door, "get your ass in here and clean your roo-"

john only turned the rock music that was playing softly in the background to where he could no longer hear his foster mom's screams. he always said his foster parents, janelle and todd, were pieces of shit.

after a few minutes, john turned it back down and grinned at (y/n). before he could react, janelle burst into the garage. john and (y/n) shot to their feet, (y/n) taking a defensive stance she didn't know she had; her hands and forearms became blades.

john glanced at her hands with wide eyes and janelle turned white, at the fact of the strange girl in her garage, or the fact that her hands were blades; no one knew for sure. (y/n) looked down and panicked, the blades diminishing and becoming her hands once again.

"holy shit," the three said simultaneously.

(y/n) held her hands behind her, and laughed nervously. john didn't know what to do, so he grabbed his radio and hit her in the head with it. janelle dropped to the floor.

"what the hell did you do that for?" (y/n) asked. what were they going to do? john just knocked out his foster mom and todd was still in the house.

"i don't know!" he sighed softly and looked at her. "we're in some deep shit."

~

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