I've just watched episode 2.01 of the Sarah Connor Chronicles, and it's inspired me to write this ficlet as a missing scene from the episode. As you'll expect, it contains spoilers.
Wordcount: 383 words
Characters: John Connor, Sarah Connor.
Rating: 15 (R) for violence.
Warning: ** Reference to attempted rape.**
"John has lived with these things since his earliest memories of childhood. His mother has taught him, drilled them into him: a plan for every eventuality, every contingency."
John tried to roll with the blow as the thug kicked him in the side of the head, but it still left him dizzy and nauseous.
"If they catch you, the machines will kill you. Never doubt that."
He watched in sick, helpless fury as their captor dragged his mother's bound body out into the middle of the floor.
"But the machines aren't cruel. Humans are. Humans will play with you. They enjoy what they do."
Sarkissian grinned to himself as he looked down on her, then knelt straddling her chest.
"That's an advantage. It can give you time. Use it."
The plastic tape round his wrists was still frayed from before. He tried to pull it apart, but it wouldn't tear.
"If you can, you try to escape. And then you run."
The gangster played with the button of her jeans, taking his time, savouring the moment.
"If you can't escape yet, save your strength. Stay alive. Wait for an opportunity."
Blood trickled down over his hands as he tore at the cruel tape binding his wrists.
"When it comes, you take it. And then you run."
Some things are unimaginable to any normal person. Our minds refuse to process them; they are not part of our reality. John has lived with these things since his earliest memories of childhood. His mother has taught him, drilled them into him: a plan for every eventuality, every contingency.
Even this one.
"If they're busy with me, their eyes won't be on you. Use the distraction. Escape. And then you run."
The sound of ripping cloth echoed in his ears as his own bonds tore through. He was free.
"And then you run."
Screw that. The future saviour of mankind yelled incoherently as he threw himself on the thug's back, hands around his throat. His training asserted itself automatically as he grasped his head and twisted. Vertebrae snapped, but he didn't hear them over the roaring in his ears as he dragged the suddenly-limp body off his mother.
Who looked up at him, fear and anger and vast relief and concern for him warring in her eyes. He helped her up, and she reached for him and gently touched his face. A brief moment… And then she was his mother again.
"I thought I taught you to run?"