Sarah Connor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
knowthyexits) wrote2012-02-21 11:23 am
knowthyexits) wrote2012-02-21 11:23 am
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She's exhausted, but if she stops moving, Sarah knows she's going to have to think about what's happened in the last week and if she does that, it brings her back to the feelings of loss and the feelings of grief that she's terrible at processing. She's been serving at the Winchester since it happened, only goes home to sleep and feed the dog, but keeps going, otherwise.
As it stands, her shift has been over for hours, but she's still there -- at the bar, with a glass of Scotch in her hands that she's not sure she even wants to drink. Mostly, she wants something to blame, but there's no way to do that here because it's not the fault of machines or fate that Cal is gone.
There is no fate but what they make. Maybe she's contributed, helped to lead them down this road? Maybe she should just accept that some things happen and they can't be stopped -- but that implies that she can't stop the impending apocalypse, that implies that she's useless and Sarah refuses to accept that as a truth. Still, here, in the bar, she pretends that she can control what she feels. She pretends that it doesn't wreck her inside to know that someone she loves is gone. Kyle is gone, Andy Goode is dead, Charley is gone and remarried.
She always had John, though.
Now, she doesn't even have him. That's the thought that drives her to drink back the alcohol, summoning another with a muted request.
As it stands, her shift has been over for hours, but she's still there -- at the bar, with a glass of Scotch in her hands that she's not sure she even wants to drink. Mostly, she wants something to blame, but there's no way to do that here because it's not the fault of machines or fate that Cal is gone.
There is no fate but what they make. Maybe she's contributed, helped to lead them down this road? Maybe she should just accept that some things happen and they can't be stopped -- but that implies that she can't stop the impending apocalypse, that implies that she's useless and Sarah refuses to accept that as a truth. Still, here, in the bar, she pretends that she can control what she feels. She pretends that it doesn't wreck her inside to know that someone she loves is gone. Kyle is gone, Andy Goode is dead, Charley is gone and remarried.
She always had John, though.
Now, she doesn't even have him. That's the thought that drives her to drink back the alcohol, summoning another with a muted request.
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"Alright," he groaned, pulling on the side of the bed to get himself up. "Be gone wit-chu. Cover yourself up and don't choke on your own vomit," he told her, brushing his jeans off and heading towards the door. "Charming asshole out."