Disclaimer: This could get old pretty fast, but I have no connection or ownership with any of the Terminator characters, franchise or movies. Original characters are mine. I know I'm giving Marcus a little more colorful past than some, but it's my story so I can do that. On with the next installment!
The Human Condition-Chapter 2
This One Could Go Either Way
Year 2019
"Only so far" Marcus mused. "They'll probably always only trust me just so far." He stopped working for a moment on the engine of the salvaged transport. He cast a cynical glance over his shoulder in the direction of the command bunker, where John Connor huddled with visiting members of the Arizona resistance. Their guests were at the California base to discuss plans for a joint raid on a Skynet R&D facility.
Gently easing the engine from its' moorings, Marcus used his enhanced musculature to place it on a nearby work bench. "Well, if any of 'em need a brain transplant" he snorted, "they can find another sucker. I'm out of the organ donation business."
As he continued to work on the dismounted motor, his thoughts shifted. A lot had happened since clawing his way out of that muddy hole eight months ago. Life. Death. Life again. He'd adjusted to being in a post apocalyptic world. He'd been imprisoned by, enthusiastically hunted by, and then taken in by, the resistance. He'd been manipulated by and then kicked a killer AI in the family jewels (stick that in your control chip, Skynet!). But there were also the lasting relationships he'd formed with Kyle Reese and little Star, two young people who were probably the closest he'd ever come to having children of his own. And lastly, and most important to him, there was Blair. Beautiful, brilliant, fiery loved her deeply and passionately, and incredibly, she loved him right back the same way, even if the rest of the world, minus Star and Kyle, did think of him as a metal head. She'd finally returned from her recon patrol and was debriefing even as he thought about her. He was looking forward to their time alone, and by the look he'd caught in her honey brown eyes, so was she. Their reunion promised to be , um, noisy. Fortunately, their quarters were somewhat isolated.
Momentarily lost in the thought of being with Blair, his grip on the wrench in his hand slackened and the heavy instrument slipped from his fingers to land on his vulnerable, sock-footed toes. As he'd pointed out to Kate earlier, he did indeed feel pain.
"OW! Damn! Keep your mind on your work, stupid!" he reproved himself. He hopped about on his uninjured foot, glad he was alone in the repair tent. He limped over to the offending tool. Giving it a dirty look, he picked it up and got back to work. The sooner he was finished here, the sooner he could give Blair a proper welcome home.
Lt. Bill Soames of the Arizona resistance sat resting his feet in the most out of the way corner of the command bunker that he could find. He was trying to decide if he should speak up or not. As a junior officer, his input might not necessarily be welcome. He might be better off just keeping his mouth shut. He'd never been real popular with Peterson anyway. He listened while his boss, Colonel Jacob Peterson, the ranking Arizona officer, other battle planners of both resistance camps, and the main man his own self, John Connor, hammered out details of the proposed raid on Skynet. Thru a combination of diplomacy, logical argument and just plain "cause I said so," Connor had tabled any prospect of further testing on Marcus Wright. Peterson and some others were unhappy about it, but since Connor's word was the last one, tough tits. As a result though, Jake Peterson seemed determined to shoot as many holes as he could find in any plan put on the table tonight. Connor was trying to keep cool, but, Soames could see, the resistance boss was beginning to lose patience. Billy decided to pull his commander's nuts out of the line of fire before Jake got 'em shot off. He stood, putting two hundred twenty five pounds and six feet three inches of height on his aching bunions, and cleared his throat. Conversation in the bunker ground to a halt.
"You have something to contribute, Lieutenant?" Connor asked levelly. The General's cool gaze rested on him.
"Well, Soames" Jacob Peterson ground out, "you got something to say, spit it out! We ain't got all night to dick around!"
What did it matter? Billy thought. They could only shoot him once, couldn't they? He could use a change of scenery anyways. Screw it. Into the breach.
"It's just, uh, General Connor, after my stint in Afghanistan, I was a U.S Marshal for six years before Judgment Day. So, I kinda know a crime when I see one. And well, this thing you're planning, I've been listening. This gig, it sounds more like robbery than a raid. I mean, Skynet being involved ups the stakes a lot, but this thing reads like a high tech, high risk heist, am I right?" Soames asked.
Connor looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding his agreement. "Yes, I suppose that's right. We're after Skynet tech and not cash, but essentially this is a robbery. What's your point, lieutenant?"
"Well, sir, it's just that, uh, if I was putting something like this together, I'd want somebody in on the planning that's done it before. Somebody who really knows his way around a balls-to-the-wall-stickup. That's why I'm wondering why Marcus ain't in here" Soames answered.
"Marcus? Wright? What does Marcus have to …?" John Connor was confused. "What could Marcus have to contribute to this?"
"What could he…?" It was Soames turn to be surprised. He looked from Connor to Peterson. "You, you really don't know, do ya? You have no idea." Billy decided to explain.
"Connor, I mean, General Connor, that's "Mad Marcus" you got out there patching up your busted transports and unclogging your crappy plumbing." Bill Soames gestured with his thumb towards the bunker's doorway. "Back in the day, him and that crew of his had their way with probably half the banks between L.A and Oklahoma City. They had a couple of armored cars and some payroll jobs on their resume, too. They had the Marshals, the Bureau, the Texas Rangers and a good portion the law enforcement in the southwestern U.S on their trail and it still took five years to shut 'em down. Trust me on this General. You want this thing to rock and roll, you want to get Marcus in here." Billy stopped, his piece said.
John Connor said nothing for the moment, both shocked and intrigued by the news.
Jacob Peterson jumped into the silence."Soames, that machine will never have-"
Connor cut him off. "Colonel Peterson! Marcus Wright is not a machine! Yes, he is significantly physically changed. But everything that still makes him, and for that matter any of us, a human being, his brain, his mind, his thoughts and ability to feel emotion he still has. He's been tested both in the lab and under fire, and not been found wanting. He has more than proven his value to the resistance. That is the last time I want to hear of you or anyone referring to him as a machine! Is that understood?" His often fractious relationship with Marcus aside, Connor had come to consider Wright a vital member of his command and a valuable member of the resistance. He wanted that fact established once and for all.
Red faced and furious, Peterson managed to contain his reaction to a stiff nod. "Yes, sir" the Colonel replied thru clenched teeth.
John turned to Billy Soames. "Lt. Soames, could you locate Marcus and ask him to join us please?"
"Yes sir, right away." Bill Soames saluted and left under the hot eyed glare of Jake Peterson. Yep, definitely time to put in for a transfer.
Marcus trailed a line of feather light kisses from shoulder to hip, reveling in the feel of Blair's silken skin under his lips. They were spooned in their bed, his right leg resting between both of hers as they lay front to back . Stretching his full length, his right hand moved of its' own accord to find her molten center. Blair moaned sensuously, pressing her body into him as his questing fingers told him she was ready for him again.
"Oh, Marcus" she breathed, "it's so good to be back here with you again, like this."
Blair rolled him on to his back and straddled him, her hips resting just above his own. He arched upward, cupping one of her breasts in his hand. Mindful of his strength, the other arm snaked slowly around her waist as he drew her to him. He dipped his head and his lips found the hollow of her neck at the base of her throat. Blair moaned again as Marcus's mouth traveled lower, his teeth delicately capturing the nipple of the cinnamon colored breast stroked by his fingers. She drew his head up, and her amber eyes met his pools of blue as they kissed, tongues caressing one another.
How was it that this happened for him, Marcus wondered? Bank robber, modern day highwayman, car thief, and that which he held chief among his many sins, cop killer. Once upon a lifetime he'd been put to death at Longview State Correctional Facility as payment for his numerous transgressions. When asked if he had any final words, he'd merely shaken his head in the negative. What was there to say? He'd deserved to be where he was. He'd deserved to be there, lying on that gurney, about to pay with his own life for the lives he'd taken or torn apart. As the poison had begun to flow into his veins, his last thought was of those lives, sending them his final sorrows and apology for his part in their destruction. As his eyes shuttered in the sleep of death, he never imagined they would ever open again. That wasn't supposed to be. Not for him.
So how did he come to be here, now, like this, with this woman making love to him? How did he come to holding someone like Blair Williams in his arms? She, who knew him like no other ever had. Who seemed to be able slip past all his baggage and complications and see into his very soul? He became past caring as she rose above him. Marcus could only issue a gasp of pure pleasure as Blair positioned herself and slid slowly down upon him. He filled her, and they began to move together…
Blair watched Marcus as he slept, chest rising and falling in rhythm. She knew he did not have to breathe as often as a normal human male, but did because Skynet had deigned it to be so. She did not care. She never had. She knew she was one of the few, with the exceptions of Kyle Reese and the little girl Star, who never took Marcus's machine body into account. Who cared that there was a man in there, forever trapped within the body of a Skynet construct. A flawed and wounded man with deep regrets behind those eyes the color of the Pacific, but a man. She knew many of her fellow resistance fighters did not understand how she could be with Marcus. That some of them even found her relationship with him repugnant. That did not matter to her, and never would. She loved him completely and knew he felt the same for her. Blair intended to make the most of whatever days they might have together. Judgment Day had burned all foolish wasting of her time from her being forever. She laid her head on his chest. She missed the beating of his strong heart, but took comfort in the warmth of him. She was just fading off to sleep when a knock came at the door.
Marcus did not open his eyes. Reluctant to abandon the languorous haze of half sleep, he gave a leonine stretch. He grumbled vaguely in protest at the rush of cool air as Blair got out of bed to answer the door.
Williams did not recognize the tall red haired man in front of her. He wasn't a terminator. The dogs would have barked their heads off long before he'd gotten this far into the camp. Her brain supplied that he was one of the visitors from Arizona, albeit one Marcus had not had any differences with. But that was all. She didn't know his name. She wasn't intimidated. Blair knew she could handle herself. Add Marcus's imposing presence into the mix and she figured she had enough on hand to handle any unpleasant surprises.
"Yes, can I help you?" she asked the stranger.
Billy Soames paused awkwardly. He'd asked around the base and finally gotten pointed in the direction of Marcus Wright's quarters. Since the California group had only been in their new location for a month or so, it had been slow going. Some of the people he talked to were just learning the layout of their new home themselves. He wasn't sure what to say now. He'd been expecting to be greeted by Marcus. Nobody had said anything about a sexy brunette in a bathrobe.
"Um, I, uh, I was told these were Marcus Wright's quarters?" Soames said, clearing his throat.
"Yes" Blair replied, "they're our quarters." Hearing Marcus slide out of bed behind her, she threw a quick look over her shoulder and then stepped back to allow the man inside.
Billy entered. He saw Marcus Wright, now clad in a well worn pair of jeans, regarding him coolly. Soames extended his hand.
Many people would have accepted the offered hand automatically. Marcus had learned long ago the wisdom of controlling automatic reactions. He continued to appraise the unfamiliar face, allowing the other's hand to hang in mid-air until it dropped.
"What can I do for you?" Marcus inquired.
"Uh, name's Bill. Most people just call me Billy. Um, General Connor sent me to find you. He wants to see you in the command bunker right away."
Wright's look of challenge went away to be replaced by confusion. He looked over at Blair. Her eyebrows were raised slightly in question.
"Why does he want to see me?" Marcus asked, turning back to the other man.
"You should probably get that from him" Soames replied by way of answer. Billy seemed on the verge of saying something else but did not. "Um, why, don't I, uh, why don't I wait outside. I'll walk over with you." With that, he exited to wait in the hallway, leaving Blair and Marcus alone again.
"What's going on? Did something happen while I was gone?" she queried, hoping for a no.
"I have no idea" Marcus informed her. "I behaved so well while you were gone I even surprised myself."
He had, too. Keeping his word to Connor, Wright gone out of his way to avoid contact with not only the Arizona group but any California fighters who had still not accepted his presence. "I guess I'd better get dressed and go find out what he wants."
"We'd better get dressed. I'm coming with" Blair said.
"Connor only sent for me" he cautioned.
"So?" she shot back saucily, reaching for her clothes. He grinned.
Walking across the darkened compound towards the command tent, Blair could not help but notice the odd, sideways looks Bill Soames kept shooting in Marcus's direction. Focused straight ahead, Marcus wasn't paying attention, but she was. Soames seemed both eager and reluctant to speak, finally bursting in to laughter. He stepped in front of Marcus blocking his path.
"I can't stand it anymore. You really don't remember me do you? You really don't know who I am?"
"Should I?" Marcus returned, irritated, moving to go around.
"Well, yeah" Soames said, still smiling broadly. "Actually, you should, yes. Maybe it'll help if I give you my full name. It's Soames. William Carl Soames, Jr. You and Sam used call me Billy J."
Marcus froze, thunderstruck. His mouth agape, he stared at the other man, unable to speak.
Noting his stunned reaction, Blair's hackles rose. She rounded on Soames.
"What's going on here? Just who are you, anyway!" she advanced on Billy, protective fire in her eyes.
"Blair" Marcus reached out to touch her on the arm, not taking his eyes off Bill Soames. A slow smile began to spread across his face. "It's okay. Billy's a friend. An old friend. As a matter of fact, you might say he's family" his voice falling to a whisper as the memories came calling…
April 1989
The battered but still serviceable Nissan sat baking in the hot midday Texas sun as fourteen year old Marcus Wright and his younger brother Sam waited for their mother to emerge from the supermarket.
Although it was still early spring, Brownsville was in the throes of an unusual heat wave. Norah Wright had treated her sons to double scooped cones of each of their favorite flavors of ice cream, strawberry for Sam and death-by-chocolate for Marcus. Their mom was inside the store interviewing for yet another job. If she got it, Marcus knew this would be the twelfth job his mom had held in the last two years. Since fleeing from Dylan, the three of them had been constantly on the move. Norah was able to wrangle enough money from her estranged father and brothers to get her and the boys from Perth, Australia, Dylan's home, to New York, in the United States. A series of menial jobs had gotten them from New York City to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, Norah's birthplace, and finally to Brownsville, Texas. She'd changed their last name from Taylor to Wright, her grandmother's maiden name. With Norah often working two jobs to make ends meet, it usually fell to Marcus, acting more parent than child to see that he and Sam were fed, dressed and off to school. Moving around so often, they were usually the new kids in a school. Occasionally the local bullies mistakenly viewed this as a weakness, until the brothers took pains to correct the impression.
Both the boys did their best to keep the house clean, and Marcus even learned to cook. If they weren't to starve to death after the Cap'n Crunch ran out, somebody had to figure out how to turn on the stove. It was a hard scrabble life, but they were together and no longer lived in fear of Dylan's violent rampages. With no sign of him for the past two years, Marcus's nightmares began to fade, as his days gradually became those of a normal teenager.
She'd been in there almost an hour, he knew, so she should be out soon. The words were barely history in his mind when the automated doors of the store swung open, disgorging a smiling Norah Wright. By her manner, her sons could tell she'd gotten the job. Great, Marcus thought. She deserved a break for a change. This would be a much better job for her. It would definitely a step up from her current one of cleaning offices at night.
"Guess what guys?" Norah was grinning broadly. "Got the job. I start Monday! And it'll be a regular eight hour shift. Pay's pretty good, too. What do you say we celebrate, huh? First home, so you can both get your homework done." She paused for the communal groan from the backseat. "Then what say we go for pizza and movies?"
"Alright, mom!" Both Marcus and Sam could both fully get behind that plan. They loved their mother, but even she would be the first to admit cooking wasn't her strong suit and never would be. Keeping her away from the kitchen was probably for the best.
Norah turned around to start the car. A shadow fell across the doorway, blocking the sunlight. She, Marcus and Sam all looked up to see the evil leer of Dylan Taylor.
"Hello, slut!" He growled. Raising the gun in his hand, he placed it to Norah's head, and fired.
November 1989
Carl Soames hung up the phone with a sigh. Marcus. Again. This time the call came from Marcus's school. He'd been acting out in class, mouthing off, being disruptive. Carl knew the litany by heart. Placed into the foster care program following the violent death of their mother, the Wright brothers had ultimately come under the care of Carl and his wife Valerie. Unable to have more children of their own following the birth of William Carl, Jr., they decided to become foster parents. They wanted Billy, one year older than eleven year old Sam, to have brothers and sisters and knew there were so many other children in need of a good home.
Sweet and rather shy, the younger boy, Sam, seemed grateful to accept the love and security they offered. So grateful, sometimes, in fact, that Val was moved to tears when she and Carl were alone.
Marcus, on the other hand, was a totally different matter. Hostile, suspicious, foul mouthed and unruly, the teen apparently wakened every morning with renewed energy for fresh mayhem. Carl had lost track of the number of times he or Val had been summoned away from their jobs to the teen's school. Or had their sleep disrupted by calls from the police in the wee hours after Marcus was picked up wandering the streets with booze and cigarettes he'd stolen or talked someone else into buying for him with money purloined from Carl or Val's wallets. Or received an angry call from a parent of one of the neighborhood children after breaking up a fight between their child and Marcus. And on, and on, and on. He and Val were trying to be patient. The Wright kids had been thru a horrible trauma. But sometimes Marcus made Carl want to run head first into a wall. What would it take to get thru to the boy? They'd tried everything. Talking didn't work. Grounding didn't work. Neither did taking away possessions or privileges. They had to keep trying. There had to be a way to break past the kid's barriers. But Carl was pulling his hair out to find it. So was Val. Just about the only bright spot in their dealings with Marcus was that Val knew she did not have to fear the boy physically. Once, in Carl's absence she'd tried to prevent Marcus from leaving the house, blocking the door with her body. She tearfully demanded to know from him if he planned to knock her out of the way. In a strangled whisper, Marcus had responded that he would never hit a woman and stormed off to his bedroom, slamming the door.
Carl, owner of his own successful construction company, let his secretary know he was going out and grabbed his car keys. Maybe the drive to the school would give him time to think of something new.
Marcus sat slouched in a chair in Principal Sheridan's office, bored, staring at the ceiling. Banished from the classroom by his exasperated teacher, the principal's office was familiar surroundings for him. He probably spent more time here, or sleeping in detention that he did in class anyway. Sheridan stood in front of him, yip yapping about something. He didn't bother to listen. Just for grins, he decided to push the old bat's buttons. Every time she paused for breath in her harangue, he belched, or yawned, or farted. It got to be great fun. You could practically see the steam coming out of Sheridan's ears. He rolled his eyes and turned his head to stare vacuously out the window. His actions seemed to incite the incensed principal even more. She ramped up her tirade, unfortunately losing control of her temper.
Marcus yawned again. The whole thing had gone from boring, to amusing and back to boring again. He just wanted it to be over. The school, the cops, Cal and Val, all of it. Especially Carl and Valerie Soames. He knew they were too good to be true. He knew they couldn't be trusted. He was rock solid certain their whole caring routine for him and Sam was just a charade. They were trying to lull him, get him to relax, to drop his guard. Then the masks would come off and the pain would start. They'd show their true colors. Beating him and Sam, screaming, calling him stupid and useless. Adults were full of lies and hurt. In Marcus's experience, the only adult he could trust was dead, her brains splattered all over her children in the backseat as they sat eating ice cream on a hot spring day. He sure couldn't trust the cops. They couldn't even catch a man who'd murdered his wife in broad daylight in front of her kids and parking lot full of witnesses. Carl and Val thought they could fool him, but they were sure finding out different. They couldn't put one over on him. Maybe Sam, but him, never. He was tired, though. Maybe this would do it. Maybe this would be the straw that broke the camel's back. He sure hoped so. Sometimes it took so much energy to fight them it was all he could do to stay awake in those stupid classes.
Parking close to J.C. Dixon High School's administrative offices, Carl got out and headed in. The five mile drive had given him time for a revelation. Marcus wanted him and Valerie to give up. To throw in the towel. The teenager wanted them to become so fed up that they would run screaming back to social services demanding that Marcus and Sam be removed from their home. The kid was terrified of being hurt again. Of loving someone only to find out the one he loved had only pain to offer in return. Or that they would go away, leaving him to care for Sam and himself. That was it! For Marcus, witnessing his mother's death was like being slammed face first into a building. All his belligerence was a cover, a protective shield.
Why did it take me so long to realize this, Carl thought. Never mind, that didn't matter. He'd finally figured it out. Taking the concrete steps two at a time, he nodded purposefully. After he'd cleared matters up at the school, he and young Marcus were going to have it out once and for all.
As he neared the offices, he heard yelling. Oh no, I really hope that doesn't involve Marcus. Carl knew that was absolutely the wrong thing to do with this kid. He could hear a woman's furious voice. Principal Sheridan. Rushing past the startled secretarial staff, he jerked open the door to see his worst fear coming true.
Sheridan's crimson visage was six inches from Marcus's face. "Why is it that out of all of the nearly one thousand students at this school, that you, Mr. Wright are the only one that manages to cause trouble every single day. Nearly all of your teachers hate the very sight of you! Do you know why? Because you make it so easy to dislike you! You have no regard for anyone. You are a lazy, worthless, stupid, little throwaway and I-!"
Carl had heard more than enough. Marcus might be a hell raising handful sometimes, but he was also a very troubled kid who needed someone to hang in there and care about him. Why couldn't these people see that? Why couldn't they understand he was crying out for help? That you couldn't put a clock on getting thru to a kid like this one? Hearing Marcus talked to like that made him see red.
He broke into Sheridan's rant. "You hold it right there lady! You can't talk to one of my kids like that! What kind of an educator are you? Do you talk to all of your students that way or just the ones you can't handle? Huh? Marcus is NOT stupid, or lazy or worthless. And he's certainly not a throwaway! What kind of person who says they care about kids would say that?"
Carl put his arm around Marcus's shoulders, and for once received no resistance. Marcus was staring back and forth between Principal Sheridan and Carl, an indecipherable look on his face.
"Mr. Soames!" Sheridan barked, "that child is nothing but trouble! Every day he walks thru those doors and makes everyone he comes into contact with miserable! He is being expelled! He will NOT be allowed to return here! Ever!"
"Don't worry about that!" Carl responded, his own voice raised, drawing the attention of the school security. Two blue shirted guards waited in the outer office. "My son deserves better than this place, and I intend to see that he gets it! Whatever the answer for him is, this isn't it! Come on Marcus, we're out of here."
Turning his back on the florid faced Sheridan, his arm still around Marcus's shoulder, he guided the silent boy past the wide-eyed secretaries and the wary security personnel.
Marcus said not one word the entire ride home. His mind was swirling with a thousand chaotic thoughts, but one finally fought free of the jumble. Carl had called Marcus his son! Carl had stood up for him, defended him! No other adult had ever done that that for him. Norah had defended him, but only against Dylan. Carl had told Sheridan that Marcus was too good for them. They really did care, Carl and Valerie. It wasn't an act! They really did care for him and Sam. He realized now, thinking back, that they'd always treated him and Sam both like they mattered. They'd never treated him like damaged goods. They never would. They would never be like Dylan. All of their attention and patience was the real deal, no masks involved. Damn! He and Sam had lucked into a couple of keepers! He wrestled with the stunning revelation, turning his head to stare out the car's passenger side window. As the streets of Brownsville sped by unseen by him, a lump began to form in his throat.
Year 2019
"Marcus?" Blair's voice brought him back to the present. He smiled to ease the concern he saw in her eyes.
"Are you okay?" she prodded.
"I'm fine. It's ok, it's just… Remember I told you Sam and I were put in foster care for a while after our mother died?"
"Of course, yes" she answered. She remembered the rest of Marcus's harrowing story, too.
"The family we were placed with was the Soames, Carl and Valerie and their son, Billy." Marcus looked at Billy Soames.
"So, so you…you're Marcus's, um, what do I call you?" she asked Billy Soames.
"Brother" Soames supplied. "It always felt that way. Still does, I guess."
"Yeah, it does" Marcus agreed softly, one corner of his mouth tugging upward. He sobered. Thinking of something, he asked, "Your parents?"
Billy shook his head. "They were in Houston when the airburst hit."
Marcus shut his eyes in pain at the news. Carl and Val. Damn Skynet to machine hell.
"You, um, you've heard about how I'm, uh, about what's different?"
"You mean about the high tech makeover?" Billy said, referring directly to Skynet's alterations of his former foster brother. "Yep, I heard. You didn't know Marcus from before" he said to Blair. I kinda look at it as product improvement."
"Up yours, Billy" Marcus replied, extending a middle finger.
Soames chuckled. "General Connor's waiting on us." He smirked briefly but then added somberly "Uh, I'm uh, I'm sorry about Sam." He didn't know what else to say.
Marcus's face clouded with grief and regret. Not that. Not now. "So am I" he replied, so soft it was nearly inaudible. He took a deep breath. He grabbed Blair's hand. "Come on, let's go see what Connor wants."
They headed for the command bunker, Soames bringing up the rear.
Author's Note: We've had a glimpse into Marcus's past, and how it can connect to his present. Reviews are welcome. I don't mind constructive, but not nasty. Thanks.