Allison Young (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
godelsolution) wrote2013-05-05 07:06 pm
godelsolution) wrote2013-05-05 07:06 pm
(no subject)
They talked a lot, Allison and Connor. They talked about how alone she felt without her family, how she was starting to forget what they were like. They talked about how lonely it was just being John Connor. Growing up knowing what he'd known, and not being able to do a thing to save anyone, to stop Skynet, to stop the war. They talked about what it was like to grow up before the war, and he knew a lot more about that than she did. He could tell her all about the things she barely remembered. He could tell her about Griffith Park, remind her about everything there.
She taught him about Chopin and when they had paper that didn’t need to be used for maps or blueprints, she would draw for him. Bicycles, animals, Kyle and Derek. Machines, sometimes, but rarely. Very rarely.
And he told her about the people he'd known in the brief periods where he hadn't been on the run. Sometimes they were even stories about people she knew, and that was strange and interesting. They talked about machines, metal, computers. Math and physics. Things she liked to do on the rare occasions she had free time and he wasn't around, books that he'd read and places that he'd gone. Books her mother had read her that she hadn’t seen in years or couldn’t remember the endings of.
The Wizard of Oz, which made him laugh for reasons she didn’t quite get.
There were things they never, ever talked about. People. He never talked about his mother, she never talked about her sister. Neither of them brought up Kate Connor or how strange it was that Kyle looked so much like him more and more.
They talked when they were in bed, her legs curled up and head on the pillow beside his. Touching. Watching. Listening. Tactile bonding, he called it, when he'd been spending too much time around his metal.
She could already see the lack of trust people were starting to have with him based on that particular quirk. Not that they talked about that either. She didn't really know how to bring it up.
But she did know that she needed him as much as she was sure he needed her. Because she was lonely too.
She taught him about Chopin and when they had paper that didn’t need to be used for maps or blueprints, she would draw for him. Bicycles, animals, Kyle and Derek. Machines, sometimes, but rarely. Very rarely.
And he told her about the people he'd known in the brief periods where he hadn't been on the run. Sometimes they were even stories about people she knew, and that was strange and interesting. They talked about machines, metal, computers. Math and physics. Things she liked to do on the rare occasions she had free time and he wasn't around, books that he'd read and places that he'd gone. Books her mother had read her that she hadn’t seen in years or couldn’t remember the endings of.
The Wizard of Oz, which made him laugh for reasons she didn’t quite get.
There were things they never, ever talked about. People. He never talked about his mother, she never talked about her sister. Neither of them brought up Kate Connor or how strange it was that Kyle looked so much like him more and more.
They talked when they were in bed, her legs curled up and head on the pillow beside his. Touching. Watching. Listening. Tactile bonding, he called it, when he'd been spending too much time around his metal.
She could already see the lack of trust people were starting to have with him based on that particular quirk. Not that they talked about that either. She didn't really know how to bring it up.
But she did know that she needed him as much as she was sure he needed her. Because she was lonely too.