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Monday, November 2nd, 2009 11:41 pm
This is the start of something I'm working on...


Title: Dinnertime
Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Author: Dude, really? Think about it.
Rating: Gen
Warnings: Work very much in-progress, spoilers for all TERMINATOR movies/SARAH CONNOR CHRONICLES episodes

Author’s Notes: I'm trying to get my long-form on... by posting a short piece

Summary: It's a 24-hour news world and we're just living in it.


"Marty? Dinnertime."

Cathy set the bowl of Rigatoni with rosee sauce on the table between the wine and the salad. She poured herself a glass of Chianti from the decanter and appreciated what she’d accomplished - the steam wafting from the hot pasta, the bowl of fresh grated Parmesan cheese, the mixed greens lightly dressed with a homemade Balsamic Vinagrette and the three places set around the Cherry-wood table. Two years ago it would have been Thai take-out on her knees in the den, grabbed between work and putting the kid to bed. Now they sat down and ate together as a family, every night, for almost a year. Michael was upstairs washing and changing his shirt and…

She left the wine glasss by her place and walked through the kitchen to the sunroom cum den at the back of the house. “Hey, kiddo. I said ‘dinner’.”

Her son didn’t answer. He stood in front of the TV, holding the phone in one hand. Tears streamed down his face. Her stomached dropped. “Marty? What's going on? Martin.”

He looked up. “They took her, Mom. They took her. You need to get her out. You need to tell them they're wrong.”

“Slow down, slow down.” She knelt beside him, wrapping one arm around his middle. Touching him made it better. The heat from his body, the solidness of skin and muscle over bone reassured her. Cathy forced herself to take a breath, to stay calm. Your fears make his worse, remember, and he was here. Marty was here and he was safe. She exhaled. "Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“They took her, Mom. She’s not answering her phone.”

“Took who, Marty? Who did they take?”

“Sarah, Mom. They took Sarah.” He pointed at the TV and Cathy looked. The same story had been playing all afternoon: Suspected Terrorist Sarah Connor Arrested in Los Angeles.

Fear swamped her like a wall of surf hitting the beach. Cathy pulled Marty around by the shoulder to face her. “Sarah who, Marty? Who’s Sarah.”

He didn't answer. He wouldn't look at her. He stared at the TV, the same clip again of a woman in handcuffs led past a crowd of reporters, his hands were clenched around the portable phone, his shoulders rigid.

"Martin," she snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Who is Sarah?”

He looked at her. He pulled his shoulders back. He said “Sarah saved me, Mom. When he tried to take me, Sarah saved me. She saved me, Mom. You have to tell them, tell them she saved me. She’s a hero. She saved me.”

Mike’s footsteps on the stairs behind her: “Cath, Marty?”

She ignored her husband, her eyes locked on her son. "Tell who, Marty?”

Marty shook off her hands, pulling away from her. "You need to tell the cops, Mom, you need to tell them when the man tried to kill me, Sarah Connor stopped him. She saved me.” He pointed to the TV where the same news story had been running all day. “Sarah Connor. She saved my life.”

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