A/N: The moment between Blair and Marcus at the racetrack mentioned in this chapter refers to a scene from the director's cut of Terminator Salvation. The thing about it that struck me most was everything Sam Worthington managed to convey with just his face. He can be pretty expressive when he puts his mind to it. ;-)
Also, this chapter is kind of a songfic type. I rewatched the movie and the part where that Alice In Chains song came up got me thinking about Jerry Cantrell and pretty soon the song depicted here wouldn't get out of my head. I think it fits with the story.
Disclaimer: Terminator Salvation and the characters therein aren't mine.
vul·ner·a·ble [vúlnərəb'l]
adj
1. without adequate protection: open to emotional or physical danger or harm
2. military open to attack: exposed to an attack or possible damage
Resistance Base, singles barracks, 12 hrs later...
Blair lay on the thin mattress of her cot, unable to sleep, surrounded by darkness and privacy curtains. She listened to the varied nocturnal sounds coming from the other bunks. Snores ranging from quiet buzzes to obnoxious pig-like snorts, the creak of tired springs as somebody shifted position, the muted blat of a distant fart. Normally Blair didn't notice these things. They were sounds she'd lived with for years, and she was usually too exhausted to stay awake once her head hit the pillow anyway. But lately sleep wasn't coming so easy to her. Her mind was too active, filled with thoughts of Marcus.
From the second she met him Blair felt a connection form between them with a suddenness and intensity she'd never experienced with anyone else, man or woman. A connection that didn't fade even after she found out he was mostly metal under all that appealing flesh. Had the world been a different place, this might have frightened her. But in this war-torn life she never questioned such things. All the big milestones people once took their time over were now rushed into headlong, because you never knew when the machines might come and burn it all to the ground. It was a philosophy Blair embraced fully. She went on instinct, didn't dawdle or second-guess. If she wanted something, she took it (unless someone else already claimed it - she wasn't a thief, after all). If she found someone attractive, and the feeling was mutual, she didn't waste time stringing him along with useless flirting (well, maybe a little flirting). And she wasn't the only woman who chose expediency over romance. It was a sad fact that there just wasn't time for dating anymore.
So why this continued stasis between her and Marcus? A lot of it was him keeping his distance, sure, but there was something holding her back as well, or else she would be trying harder. She was never the type to wait passively for something to change, she always pushed things along. So what was stopping her now? What was she afraid of?
Disapproval from her fellow humans for shacking up with a cyborg? Definitely not, she scoffed. The way she saw it, if people didn't like something she did they could keep it to their damn selves. It was her business, not theirs, and it wasn't like she was harming anyone.
Rejection? That was a bit more complicated. Blair knew Marcus wanted her as much as she wanted him. She felt it every time he met her eyes. But every time he had the chance to act on it, he let the moment slide. And for some reason, that hurt her more than flat-out refusal.
Blair remembered the first time that happened, not long after they met. They'd been traveling back towards base when it started to rain. They stopped at the ruins of an old race track to make camp. While Marcus searched for something they could use as fuel for a campfire, Blair had taken her first aid kit and gone over to a huge tractor tire lying on its side that acted as a rain collector. She stood in the downpour and stripped off her shirt to wash off and check for any serious cuts or wounds, and some sixth sense told her Marcus was behind her. She turned, her hands covering her breasts, and saw him searching the interior of a derelict car, his back to her. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he turned and locked her with his intense blue stare. Blair felt her skin grow hot under his gaze. Her lips parted slightly and she turned a little more to face him fully. For a second, she was sure he'd take her up on her silent invitation. But then something in his expression changed. The desire was still there, but now there was also sadness and a withdrawing. The unspoken words I can't seemed to emanate from him. Then the moment was gone.
The loss of what could have been was a regret Blair carried with her ever since. She shouldn't have let that moment go. She should have gone to him. If it had been any other man, she would have. So why didn't she?
Because Marcus wasn't any other man. Not just in the sense of what was underneath his skin, but who he was to her. All the other relationships Blair had before were little more than flings. They didn't mean anything to her. They couldn't hurt her. But Marcus could. He already did by keeping her at arm's length.
So that was it. That was why she held back. She was afraid of getting hurt. Simple, really. Which begged the question, when had she ever let her fear control her?
Blair flung the old army-issue blanket aside and sat up. She snatched up the cargo pants she'd worn earlier, put them on, grabbed her boots, and stood. She pushed the privacy curtain aside and padded barefoot to the exit. Once out in the hall, she put on her boots to protect her feet against the cold cement floor and headed towards the motor pool.
Resistance Base, motor pool, minutes later...
One of the mechanics got hold of a "new" CD for the player earlier that day, Jerry Cantrell's solo album Boggy Depot. Marcus's brother once had a copy. Listening to it brought up a lot of bittersweet memories. But one track in particular affected him more than the others on the disc, the one titled "My Song." It didn't make him think of his brother, though. The lyrics evoked someone else's face altogether.
Marcus found himself unable to sleep, so he turned on the CD player. Sometimes listening to music helped, or at least made the hours pass a bit easier. He ended up playing the Cantrell CD and put "My Song" on a continuous loop. His masochistic streak at work again. He lay on his bunk with one hand tucked beneath his head, the other resting on his stomach, and listened to the melancholy words sung in Cantrell's mournful voice.
She won't tell me lies
She want to see me smile, yeah
Every time you let it show
I didn't want to know
By the time I had lost my soul
You had to go...
The clank of the motor pool's door opening caused his body to tense. Marcus got out of bed and headed for the doorway of his makeshift bunk, wondering who the hell was coming here at this hour? He readied himself for the possibility that this wasn't a friendly visit. When he pushed aside the blanket covering his entryway, though, he was startled to discover Blair making her tentative way through the maze of vehicles in the darkened garage. "Blair?"
Her head jerked in the direction of his voice. "Marcus? Where are you? I can't see a damn thing in here."
Marcus smirked at the irritation in her voice. His artificial eyes enhanced the faint ambient light, making it easy to see every detail of the place, albeit in gray-scale. "Hang on," he said and walked over to her. The only sounds in the vast garage were his footsteps and the music that continued to play in the background.
She come, in disguise
I want to say goodbye, yeah
Every time I let it show
You didn't want to know
By the time I had lost my soul
You had to go
You had to go...
Blair almost yelped when Marcus touched her arm. "Don't sneak up on people!"
"I didn't," he chuckled, "I was out in the open the whole time." He reached over and switched on a nearby work light. Both of them blinked at the sudden glare. "That better?" Marcus asked.
Blair nodded. "Yeah, thanks."
"So. What the hell are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you."
Marcus crossed his arms over his chest. "Must be pretty important if it couldn't wait 'til morning."
"It is."
"Go on, then. Spit it out."
Blair opened her mouth, closed it, tried again, but couldn't seem to find the right words. Finally, she let out a growl of frustration, grabbed him on either side of his head, yanked him towards her, and crushed his lips against hers.
Love's strong, mine gone
Still have the time to sing my song
Love's strong, mine gone
Still have the time to sing my song...
Marcus was too shocked to react at first. He stood frozen as Blair swiped her tongue against his lips in an attempt to gain entrance to his mouth. He could have pulled away without any trouble. He was much stronger than her. Instead, he felt his lips part under Blair's persistent assault. Her tongue slid past his teeth and flicked against the roof of his mouth. Marcus shuddered, and the next thing they knew he had her pinned against the nearest car's hood, her legs wrapped around him and his hands tangled in her long hair. He broke away from her lips to kiss a path along her jaw line and down the side of her neck. His teeth nipped at her pulse point, then his tongue soothed the reddened flesh.
"Oh, god," Blair moaned and arched her body closer to his. "Marcus..."
Then, without warning or explanation, his attentions cooled as abruptly as they began. He straightened and disentangled himself from her. Blair stared up at him, dumbfounded, and clambered unsteadily to her feet. "What...What're you doing?"
He looked at her with the same sad longing she remembered from the racetrack. "I'm sorry, but I can't."
"What the hell are you talking about?" her voice rose in exasperation.
"I mean I can't, Blair."
"You're pushing me away again," she accused, "You're still stuck on this idea that you gotta punish yourself-"
"Dammit, Blair, that ain't the only reason!" He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his crotch. Blair gaped at this shocking gesture, then frowned as what she felt through the fabric of his pants began to fully register. His cock was soft, not even a hint of an erection. Her eyes met his and he saw her understanding. Marcus nodded. "I want to," he said gently, "More than anything. But I can't. It's just one more thing Skynet took from me."
Tears welled up in Blair's eyes. She threw her arms around him and buried her face against his shoulder. "God, I'm so sorry."
Marcus stroked her back. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I can't give you everything you want."
"It's okay. I mean, what we have now, that can be enough."
He wanted so much to believe that. He swallowed a painful lump in his throat. "We both know it's not."
"Don't push me away," she whispered, "Please."
He started to do just that, gently, but with undeniable force. "I need you to go, now."
"Marcus, don't..."
"If you don't leave now," he insisted, "it'll just make it harder to end it later."
"For me to end it, is that what you mean?" Blair scrubbed at her tear-stained cheeks with her sleeve. "It is, isn't it? You think fucking's all I want from you."
He shook his head. "No. But sooner or later, you'll find somebody who can give you what I can't, and I don't want you feeling guilty for choosing him over me."
She laughed incredulously. "You...You coward. You're not even willing to take a risk. You really think whatever's between us doesn't have a chance at lasting? Well, I do," she snarled, "And I'm not leaving."
"Blair-"
"I'm." She stepped up to him. "Not." The toes of her boots touched his. "Leaving." She glared at him. "Deal with it."
Marcus took one look at her face and knew she would not be budged. He could physically make her leave, no question, but he knew she would just keep coming back. Her expression held the same stubborn determination he recalled from when she helped him escape, despite the fact that doing so meant being labeled a traitor by the Resistance. If that wasn't enough to deter her, then nothing he could say or do would change her mind. His shoulders slumped in resignation.
She got her own way
Same as yesterday, yeah
Every time you let it show
I didn't want to know
By the time I had lost my soul
You had to go
You had to go
"I like this song," Blair murmured. She and Marcus lay together on his narrow bed, her head cushioned against his chest, listening to the powerful beat of his heart as well as the music of a world long gone. "Who's singing it?"
"Jerry Cantrell," Marcus answered, "Probably before your time." He felt old saying that.
They lay in a strangely comfortable silence for a while. Long enough for Marcus to suspect Blair had fallen asleep. But then she surprised him by murmuring, "Kate told me something about John's parents, once."
"What's that?" he asked, though he really wasn't all that interested in The Great John Connor's family history. He just liked the sound of Blair's voice.
"She said his parents only knew each other for one night, then his father was killed. But Sarah Connor never stopped loving him. He was the love of her life, and she only knew him for a few hours..."
Marcus could see where she was going with this. He wasn't sure he liked it.
"Compared to them," Blair continued, "we've known each other a lifetime."
"Blair-"
"Shh," she pressed her fingers to his lips, "It's okay. I got it outta my system. I promise, no more sappy-talk."
Marcus smiled a little. He wondered when she got so good at reading him. Seemed like it had always been this way.
A few minutes later Blair's breathing changed and he knew she was asleep. He turned his head until her hair tickled his nose and breathed in her scent.
Resistance Base, 9 hrs later...
Two fighter jets were sent out on patrol in the early hours of morning. Only one returned, so badly damaged its landing was more of a barely controlled crash. The scouts had run into what seemed like an entire swarm of HKs and transporters. Either Skynet managed to rebuild its California headquarters without the Resistance's knowledge, or the remaining Terminators had somehow managed to organized themselves. For whichever reason, there was no disputing their target. They were headed straight for the base.
Fortunately, the Resistance had plenty of experience mobilizing their entire operation on short notice. Equipment, livestock, food, personal belongings, families, all were packed and loaded with brisk efficiency. Anything and anyone deemed least expendable were loaded onto the helicopters so they could reach the next safe zone ahead of the others. This included - despite their vehement protests - John and Kate Connor and their newborn daughter, Sarah. Barnes remained behind to organize the rest of the evacuation.
Every working vehicle in the motor pool was put to use: vans, jeeps, flatbeds, even a couple of tractor-trailers. Every able-bodied person was put to work loading them with whatever could not be replaced later. Marcus found himself helping Milo and Tabs get as much of the livestock as possible into one of the huge semis. The goats were given priority, since they didn't breed as quickly as the chickens or rabbits and were therefore harder to replenish. Marcus was rather surprised at how cooperative the animals were. Though anxious with all this unusual activity, the goats went where they were led with relatively little fuss. Only once or twice did an excitable animal try to make a break for it, and Marcus caught them easily.
"Wright!" Angelo bellowed just as Marcus secured the cattle car's doors. The head mechanic gestured towards the newly repaired Lucille, the car's entire rear portion taken up with crates of equipment. "You're riding with me."
Marcus nodded, then turned to Milo. "Seeya at the safe zone."
The smaller man grinned and winked. "You know it, Gort."
Marcus's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Gort?"
"Yeah, y'know, the robot from Day the Earth Stood Still?" Milo prompted. At the cyborg's continued bafflement, he blurted in exasperation, "It's a freakin' classic, man!"
"If you say so," Marcus said in a humoring tone.
Milo rolled his eyes, then hurried over to join his waiting family in the semi. Even though the cab was designed with extra space in the back for long-distance truckers to bed down, Marcus knew conditions had to be pretty cramped for the large family. But they weren't about to separate, so the kids all squeezed in without a word of complaint. No one complained about discomfort when the alternative was facing homicidal machines.
After a final wave goodbye, Marcus jogged towards Angelo and the idling Lucille. The roar of jet engines drew his gaze skyward to a formation of A-10s zooming past. The fighter jets and several smaller gunships would remain behind to buy the evacuating convoy some more time. Many brave pilots would end up sacrificing their own lives to this end. Marcus hoped Blair would not be one of them.
As if his thoughts summoned her, Blair suddenly ran into view. She was dressed in her flying leathers and carried her helmet under one arm. A stripe of red ochre ran across her eyes, like the first time they met. Marcus felt a tightness in his throat at the sight of her.
"Hey," she said breathlessly as she skidded to a halt before him. "I can't stay long. I just wanted to see you off. And to give you these." She handed him a pair of high-powered binoculars.
"What're these for?" Marcus asked.
"So you can see me," she grinned, "I'm piloting one of the gunships. You can't miss it. It's got 'Lola' painted on the side."
"What is it with everybody giving vehicles girl names?"
"C'mon, like you never named your first car when you were a teenager?"
Marcus didn't bother to mention that his "first car" was a neighbor's Caddy he stole and drove into another neighbor's swimming pool. "Not really."
"Anyway, you oughta be able to admire my piloting skills through those for quite a while."
Marcus was struck by her thoughtfulness. She knew he would be that much more anxious about her, not knowing what was happening. This way, at least he could see how she was doing. Marcus couldn't think of anything to say except, "Thanks."
The sounds of revving engines and raised voices signaled that the convoy was about to move out.
"I gotta go," Blair said, then gave him an all-too-brief kiss before rushing back the way she came. Marcus hurried to the waiting car, Angelo drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, and jumped into the passenger side. In seconds the entire motley fleet of vehicles was on the move.