John strolled through a dimly lit, narrow passageway, the walls covered in rows of pipes. He was on his way to deliver one last debriefing to Tech-Com, the men and women of the Resistance. Tonight was going to be the final assault; their last chance to deliver a killing blow against Skynet and end the war.
The plan was sound. He knew they would win, but it was not the fight that he feared would be the most difficult. He heard footsteps behind him, and he already knew who it was before he spoke.
"Sir? Requesting to join the Colorado offensive?" It was Kyle.
"I need you with me, Reese," John replied.
Good old Kyle, always taking the initiative, and volunteering for the riskiest, most difficult missions. He reminded John much of himself; he was clever, selfless, strong-minded, determined, and extremely loyal. He was also young, very young, trailing around nineteen years behind John. Thinking about the time travel aspect still messed with his head.
Kyle began to protest, "You're talking about the complete destruction of Skynet, sir."
John slowed to a stop, turning to face Kyle. "The Colorado unit will succeed," he assured. "The machines will fall tonight. But right here the Los Angeles assault is just as important. Maybe more."
John honestly wished he didn't have to take Kyle with him on this mission, he knew it would be Kyle's last. But John had no choice, and neither did Kyle – except Kyle did not know it.
"More important than destroying Skynet's central core?" Kyle kept his tone calm and reasonable, but John could hear the confused agitation straining in his voice. "John, I don't understand why you're leading an attack on a work camp-"
John sighed, "-Because the camp is a camouflage. Inside the camp is a hangar. Beneath that hangar, Skynet has hidden its final weapon. When Skynet realises it has lost, it will deploy that weapon to ensure its own survival." He held Kyle's gaze, stone-cold sincerity in his eyes. "We take it tonight or there is no tomorrow."
Kyle nodded, resolved. "Then we'll take it."
John couldn't help but smile. He looked at Kyle. His own father looked up to him as a hero. An idol. Maybe even a father figure. John wished he could tell Kyle the truth. He constantly burned with the temptation to tell Kyle, but he couldn't, or else John would risk not only his own existence, but humanity's survival as well.
Sometimes, John wished he didn't care.
"You're my right hand man, Reese. I never thanked you for it."
You're my dad, and I'm sorry I could never tell you. I'm sorry that you will never get to find out.
"You don't need to," Kyle stated. "You gave us all a future, John."
But in doing so, I took away yours.
"I'm going to use mine," Kyle continued. "When all this is over, I'm... I'm going to find my parents' house. Rebuild it."
John fought back a lump in his throat as guilt washed over him. Again. He looked at his feet, he couldn't bear to look at Kyle. He forced himself to anyway, a small smile edging the corners of his mouth. He couldn't show his pain. He couldn't. It was too dangerous.
"Use my hands for something other than killing."
I do give you a future, though, don't I? A short one, but still something. At least you get to be with Mom. That's good enough, isn't it? Would you forgive me?
"...What are you going to do with yours?"
John hesitated for a second. He swallowed his internal conflict as subtly as he could with a nonchalant shrug. "A cold beer would be good," he smirked.
Kyle grinned, "Some pretty big plans."
And they laughed together. John enjoyed that. It was slightly therapeutic, to share one last laugh with his dad before he would have to send him away forever.
"Yeah. I guess I don't think about it too much." John hadn't thought about it. He didn't want to. What future was there for John, knowing that he had sent his father to his death? How could he live with that, despite the outcome?
Kyle stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. In the silence, a distant chant for John's name began to grow. "Well, I figure whatever happens," he said, "it's got to be better than this."
I hope so. For you. I hope it's enough.
It was time to go, they were on the clock, and the chants were growing louder. John slowly began to turn on his heel to leave, but he stopped, and said: "So many of us have died to get here." It hurt so much that he couldn't tell Kyle how he felt. How he wished he could just tell his father everything, that he was sorry. But there was no time. There never would be.
"I want you to know, Kyle, that if there was another way, I would have taken it."
At that, John took his leave, leaving Kyle with the closest thing equivalent to an apology for what he was about to do to him. John hated time, and he was pretty certain that it hated him too.