Disclaimer: I do not own Terminator, Terminator 2, Terminator: Rise of the Machines, Terminator: Salvation or anything else associated with them. The all belong to their respected owners. I make absolutely no profit of this fanfiction, nor do I wish to. Thank you.
Warning: This is my third fanfiction, so it might not be any good. Anyways, this is slightly AU, so the character will not come out as you would expect them to. I realized I can't stay in full character. Reason being is that some characters seem so unfeeling and I believe their is more depth to them. So hence this story. I don't need reviews, so please don't bother if you don't want to. This is just for fun and it gives me practice to better myself. I put too much detail into the characters so bare with that if you decide to read it. I like my imagination.
Note: I don't have a Beta Reader, so please alert me to any grammatical errors or if my sentence structure is off and it urks you. I seem to be catching them rather quickly along with realizing I keep forgetting a word or two. I'm getting better, though. Promise. I just really want to try and do this on my own.
Looking back to the past, the world could perceive itself as beautiful. The grass was lushes, the trees old and covered in leaves. The buildings where high, the people busy and living life. Many could say that once upon a time everything was bad, everything needed work, everything was dying. Looking on it now, people could kiss his ass. It happened just fourteen years ago. Screams and blood, calls for help and many deaths. He could still hear them. The voices haunted his dreams. He woke with a start just a few moments ago, the images of the Terminator that had saved his life three times, running free. He had missed him dearly. He was the closets thing to a father he'd ever had. He knew of Kyle Reese, he had already gone to the past to insure his future. But even though he knew of him, he didn't KNOW him. Looking down at his beautiful wife, he chuckled softly. His hand coming to rub her full belly as she slept on her back. His first born was coming soon, and for once in his life, he was truly happy to be alive. His strong beating heart pumped loudly in his ears. His breathing had calmed but the images kept appearing when he blinked, the darkness behind his lids revealing his unbearable duties. He was now the leader of the resistance. Those stupid military fools thinking that it was so easy to end a war with the machines. The thought they could hide just because they where under the water. But he knew it would turn out like this. They didn't even give him a chance. So they turned on the sonar that they thought disrupted the machines and sent themselves to their deaths. As always, the machines thought logically. The machines planned this for them. The machines where smarter than they looked, and soon a lot more people started to die. He was sure it would come to an end, and he'd make sure it would be soon. Yet for now, he had to wait. He needed to plan correctly. The last of humanities best, the lives of all remaining animals, everything was in his hands. Bringing his hands up to his face, calloused, wrinkled hands, he sighed. So much blood, no matter how much he scrubbed, he could still see it, feel it, and even taste it when he ate. Rubbing his face as hard as he could, he tried to scrub the guilt. He knew he couldn't. Sara Conner, his beautiful mother predicted this. But why was it his responsibility? He knew he would of taken it no matter what, but it was heartbreaking.
Not so long ago, he, himself had almost died. The sharp blade of the Terminator that looked like his 'father' had stabbed him, the injury making his heart work on overtime. The pressure from the broken blood vessels, lose of blood, and heavy stress killing him every second he breathed. But something happened. It was so unexpected, in fact, shocking. His name was Marcus, and he was a machine. Before his first death, he was a prisoner, he was a killer and he signed his life away. He became a monster. An infiltrator. Remembering the ordeal brought crippling ghost pains into his chest. His hand striking and grabbing his chest roughly. Biting his tongue so he would not make a sound, he looked over to the side, his wife had turned over. She had finally fallen asleep, the baby kicking every which way. Just like him. The baby wanted to kick machine ass. Good. He would when he learned to defend himself and he was older. John's breathing became ragged, his body hunching over heavily, his head spinning and making him sick. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he pressed them firmly on the cold ground. The temperature helping the sudden sickness he didn't want to suffer. Taking deep breaths, in and out, in and out, his heart finally calmed. When Marcus and John blew up the Skynet's main base in San Francisco, he was glad to get rid of the evil place. When he was stabbed, he felt if he had to leave, he did it saving those who still survived in the world. When he was dying, Marcus said the one thing he did not expect, even when at that time he believed that he was good. He gave him his heart. He basically demanded he'd take it. He'd told him that everyone deserved a second chance, and he had his. Now it was John's turn. And he knew he would do great things. He wouldn't let him down. The last thing he saw, was the syringe entering him, the liquid insuring his death entering him and his final breaths. Then he woke, his heart was indeed strong.
Looking up to the ceiling, he felt nostalgic. It had been a glorious battle, he had made more friends. He had saved many lives, and now they where stronger than ever. Looking at the make-shift digital clock next to his night stand, the clock reading a number he dreaded. He wanted to sleep some more. The soft supple touch on his shoulder shocked him slightly, his head snapping back to the woman he thought once asleep. Unlike him, she had time. She would for a few months more. As she smiled her sweet smile, he knew everything would be alright. She believed in him, and that's all he needed. Nodding his head once to her, he turned his head back to it's original position. His large warm hand coming to grasp her much smaller one. After a moment, he stood and stretched his tired bones. The snapping relieving stress between his shoulder blades. He had to get ready. So he pressed forwards. His cloths in hand, showered fresh and prepared. It was time to kick some more machine ass.