Title: Why We Fight (Oneshot)
Pairing: a little John/Kate
Word Count: 537
Summary: Sometimes, he forgot why he fought.
A/N: Spoilers for T:S (Future Fic) My first Terminator Oneshot: Title inspired by Band Of Brothers "Why We Fight." I don't own Terminator, or Band of Brothers for that matter. No Copyright Infringement Intended. From a random something or other that hit me in the midst of a longer T:S fic I'm writing (the time paradoxes are murder xP). Though I do kind of wish I owned the T:S Christian Bale-John Connor, because honestly...*winks* Comments are love!
There were times, many times, when John Connor found himself regretting the life he lived. Being the prophesized savior of humanity had as many deep valleys as it did high peaks. Sure, he had born for the fight...prepared for more years than he could remember. But even that didn't make it any easier.
Battles were relentless, and even with Skynet's Headquarters destroyed nearly a year ago, the battles seemed to never let up; there was never a moment's rest. He knew the war was far from over, he'd known that, even as he had lain dying; saved by the unlikeliest of heroes. He'd thought about Marcus Wright sometimes; mostly when he lie alone, with nothing more than his own heartbeat there to comfort him and the memories of when things were so much simpler.
It was in the middle of firefights, blood and sweat pouring from his face, the world a stirring blur as the war between man and machine raged onward, it was then he questioned why any of this was worth it. Why would he risk himself, risk his life, and risk the lives of others? Why risk leaving his wife a single mother amongst a war she had no right to lead. Sometimes it made no sense. It was in these moments, that part of him wanted to surrender, just to quit. Just to go back to the headquarters and sweep her away from all of this.
But in moments of solace, when the rotors silenced, when his boots clanged the floor as he dragged himself from the war torn wasteland outside, exhaustion nagging his every limb and muscle; when her arms wrapped him in a solemn embrace and she buried herself into him despite his obvious exhaustion. It was when she guided him, her petite hand in his, and they wandered far from the barracks where his men rested and recuperated, far from the blasts and squandering of war.
It was when he lifted her from the tiny bed, her brown eyes staring up at him curiously; her tiny arms and legs fighting for his every attention. It was the look of pure happiness when he lifted her high above his head and the cries of excitement when he lowered her, pressing a soft kiss to her tiny forehead before he let her rest against his chest. It was when she huffed angrily when he turned away, her big, round eyes pleading with his own for the attention she deserved. It was the feeling of all five of her fragile fingers wrapped around his thumb, and the babble of contentment that came with it. It was when her tiny eyes closed, asleep against the soft cotton of his shirt, thumb contently in place between her lips, his hand brushing the fine strands of her brown hair as Kate looked onward, glowing with each passing moment.
It was those moments that he remembered everything that made his life so important. He remembered why what he was doing was worth it. It was the moments he shared with his wife and his daughter that he remembered why he fought Skynet, and why being the savior of humanity wasn't as bad as it could have been.