Chapter 4: The Unbelievable Truth

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Connor?" Professor Mark Wright groaned as he opened his eyes to see one of his top students hovering over him. He had escaped to the teachers' lounge to sleep off a rather nasty hangover, the product of another night nursing a bottle of off-brand liquor. Wright was so certain no one would bother him here… Damn…

John Connor took a step back as he continued to study his teacher. Mark Wright, professor of Criminology, a hard man to get to know, and an even harder man to have the want to do so. But John was intrigued. It was so very rare for him to find something or someone who drew his interest and woke his curiosity so thoroughly.

Wright still had that expectant look on his unshaved face, as if he really did anticipate some form of explanation from John, as to why he was in the teachers' lounge in the first place. This made John smirk as an idea made its way to the front of his mind. It didn't take much to make him act on his thoughts, as he stepped forward, looming over Wright who sat on the lumpy floral sofa starring up at him with those eyes that reminded John of cloudless skies and blue oceans perfect for sailing.

The bot pushed at his chest again, blue eyes blinking in confusion as it frowned up at John. The voice, its voice, was just like his. As were those damned eyes that peered up at him with a something almost like recognition.

"John…?" the word was breathy, hesitant and so very soft, almost a whisper, as those eyes searched his face widening at what they saw. It was a look John has seen before.

"What?" John's voice came as a low husk as he responded to the bot's whisper.

"John…" the bot said again in a tone that was all uneasy confusion and relief, the hand on his chest no longer tried to push him away as the slender fingers curled into the fabric, holding on to him. Mark's eyes, so clear and blue, clouded with confusion and disbelief, stared up at him, and John couldn't break that gaze. He'd almost forgotten the color of those eyes. He'd almost forgotten how alive and emotional they could be, telling him everything he needed to know about the man he had once loved more than his own wife. But this wasn't Mark, John tried to remind himself, but those eyes wouldn't let it quite sink in. "What's going on? When did you get so old? And why am I lying stark ass naked in a ply board box of pink packaging peanuts?"

*~*JOHN/MARCUS*~*

John's clothing fit loosely on Marcus's slighter frame, the cuff of his pants gathered around his ankles as the cuff of the shirt brushed against fingertips. He'd hastily thrown the Henley and jeans at the bot, fury simmering under the surface. He hadn't put much thought into their difference in size, but now as they sat waiting for Serena to join them in her office he couldn't help but let his eyes wander over to the abomination that was sitting in the chair to his right.

The bot was oddly pale now, eyes wide as he took in his surroundings. He'd been like this since John's angry reaction back at the penthouse. He looked almost frightened and refused to look at John since his outburst, and he hadn't spoken a word since as well.

Perhaps John was too harsh, but bots couldn't feel, so why should it bother him? His words shouldn't affect the thing, no matter how loud he yelled or how terrible his words might be, because it wasn't human, only an imitation that lacked human understanding and feelings.

Marcus's fingers trembled in his lap as he stared down at his clasped hands. John watched him jump as the doors opened allowing Serena entry before closing with a soft snick. A female bot with loose blonde curls dressed in green scrubs followed Serena and stood to the right of her desk as Serena took her seat.

"Problem John?" Serena asked after assessing the state both John and Marcus seemed to be in.

"What do you think?" John snapped, glare flitting from Serena to Marcus. The bot was watching him now, lips drawn in a tight thin line but looked away at John's glare.

Instead of responding to John's anger Serena spoke to the nurse bot she had brought in with her. "Misty, please take young Marcus to the lounge while I speak to Doctor Connor a moment. Be a dear and try to find something fitting for him to wear."

"Yes, ma'am." The bot responded in a soft soprano before moving to Marcus's side and leading him from the room. Once they were gone, with the door firmly shut behind them, she turned her steely gaze back on John.

"What did you do to Marcus? I thought it'd take longer than this for you to upset him." Her voice was even with a hard edge as she looked John down over her desk.

"Is that a joke?! What did 'I' do?! What do you think 'you' are doing sending that thing to my home, to help me with my children!?" John snapped, almost rising out of his chair but stopping at the sharp look he received from his old friend. "Not only did you have to make it look like him, but you have it thinking it's him as well!"

"That thing!? How dare you, John Connor…! I knew you were a stupid idiotic bastard, but how dare you treat him…!

"That thing is not Mark Wright!" John yelled, cutting off her indignant reply.

"John…" She said his name slowly. Serena must have seen something in his face, because her demeanor changed completely.

"The real Mark Wright died over fourteen years ago!"

"John… listen…" Serena tried again, the look in her eyes too much for John to meet so he looked away.

"He's dead, Serena. He died. It's unnatural to try and recreate that," John said before slumping back in his chair, emotionally exhausted by his anger and hurt. "You're supposed to be my friend, yet you do something like this to hurt me…"

"No, John, just listen to me for a moment," Serena began again, her voice soft and pleading. Perhaps she hadn't taken John's reaction into account when she began this endeavor. "Marcus 'Mark' Wright did die fourteen years ago," she paused, retrieving a manila envelope from the top right drawer of her desk. "His body was donated, since he had no family members to speak of and he was a fairly healthy man." She opened the envelope, retrieving the signed consent form that allotted owner ship to Skynet, making the aforementioned deceased Skynet property, sliding it across the table to John who slowly picked it up. "There was something peculiar about Wright, something my father saw, and I saw it too. He was dead, that's true, but Father always talked like Wright was still there, and I suppose it may have rubbed off on me a bit after time. Father's greatest work, his piece le resistance, as you will, was Wright. When father died, that mantel was passed to me. I'm not saying I can bring people back, because let's face it, I don't have that kind of power, but through some will and a miracle, and mine and my father's crazy belief, there was Marcus."

"What does all that have to do with that 'thing' walking around thinking it is Wright?" John asked slowly, eyes blindly fixed on the paper in his hand, his mind refusing to believe what Serena was telling him. It couldn't be true. Things like this didn't happen. When you die, you die. It's the end. The people who love you mourn your lose, but your still gone. Game over.

"He doesn't think he's Mark Wright; he is," Serena said calmly. "I've been working on him for years now and couldn't find the opportunity to reveal my little project; that is until you came here actively looking for a bot of your own. Now I see I may have misgauged your reaction to an almost unbearably unbelievable story, but what can I say; I'm a romantic. I knew you'd only ever loved him, and I have a thing for second chances and love anew stories."

"That isn't possible. You do know none of this is possible… that you're just crazy…right…? You can't bring someone back…" John said slowly, setting the paper back onto the desktop.

"But it is possible, as crazy as it sounds and as crazy as you think I am. It may be impossible to recreate, and unlikely that I will ever even try, but he's real John. He's the Mark you knew with a little bit of a 2.0 edge," Serena explained patiently.

"So what you are telling me is that you are Dr. Frankenstein, and Marcus is your monster…"

"Exactly!" Serena said happily, as she watched the remaining anger drain from John's body leaving him looking weary and hurt. "Except in this case, I'm far more brilliant than the good doctor, and our monster is quite possibly the prettiest monster in existence."

~ To Be Continued ~