A/N: Don't worry Thesaurusgirl, I won't leave you hanging. ;-)

Disclaimer: Terminator Salvation. Not mine.

dam·age [dámmij]

n

1. harm or injury: physical harm or injury that makes something less useful, valuable, or able to function

2. adverse effect: a harmful effect on somebody or something

3. cost: the cost or price of something (informal)

Resistance Safe Zone, mobile hospital, 6 hrs later...

The flight to the safe zone took an eternity. The second the copter landed, Blair was rushed to the mobile hospital. Marcus was right behind her. Nobody thought to tell him not to. The huge tent was crowded with wounded fighters and bustling medics, doctors, and field nurses. Thankfully, most of the casualties' wounds weren't life-threatening. The majority of the deaths happened back in the battlefield.

Kate Connor examined Blair herself. She quickly ordered her staff to take the pilot to surgery. Marcus grabbed Kate's arm before she had the chance to follow her patient. "I wanna wait here."

Kate gave him the once over, taking in his torn and bloodied condition. "Clean yourself up first," she said brusquely, "Don't get in anyone's way."

Marcus nodded, but she had already turned her back on him and was walking away. She passed through a tent flap with the word SURGERY stenciled on it and vanished from sight. Marcus stared after her anxiously for a moment, then reluctantly turned away and negotiated a weaving path to the exit.

Outside was every bit as frenetic as people rushed around getting the encampment sorted out. John Connor was in the middle of it all, giving orders in his strong voice and bringing a semblance of order to the chaos around him. He was carrying his newborn daughter, Sarah, in a sling across his chest. The baby was sound asleep in her father's care, unfazed by all the noise and bustle around her.

Marcus approached the Resistance leader with some trepidation. His appearance was drawing more than a few glares. He could feel their eyes on his exposed metal parts. Connor, however, barely spared him a glance. "Heard about that stunt you pulled, leaving the convoy to go after Blair. How is she?"

"In surgery," Marcus answered. He swallowed around a tightness in his throat. "Kate said I could stay, but I need to clean myself up first."

John nodded solemnly. "Your stuff's with the motor pool, right? Know where they are?"

Marcus shook his head.

"I can take him."

Both men turned to see Kyle standing nearby. John nodded curtly. "Alright. Take him there, then hurry back. We have a hell of a lot to get done."

The eager teen rushed off, the cyborg close behind him. Minutes later they saw the familiar collection of vehicles and the mechanics who kept them running. Marcus thanked Kyle.

"Blair's gonna be okay," the young man assured him, "Kate's the best doctor we've got. She'll make it."

Marcus nodded, hoping he was right. The two of them parted ways, Kyle hurrying back to Connor, Marcus headed for the cargo van where he'd stowed his hastily packed things. His fellow grease monkeys were surprised to see him. Apparently, not many expected him to make it back. As Marcus rummaged for a change of clothes, Milo jogged over to him with a relieved grin on his face. "Man, are you a sight! You scared the hell outta me, runnin' off like that."

Marcus dug out a shirt and pants from his duffel. He looked down at his bloody, grimy self and frowned. "We got any water?"

"Yeah, I'll get you some," Milo patted the side of the van, "You can get changed in there."

"Thanks," Marcus said, grateful for the offer of privacy. He didn't relish stripping in front of everybody, not because of a sense of modesty, but because he didn't want them to see the areas of his body where the flesh had been torn away. He touched the spot on his head where the scalp was missing and wished again that he had a hat.

Milo returned with a full bucket and a washrag. He also had a Cubs baseball cap in his other hand. "The hat's just a loan," he cautioned, "I want it back soon as that bald spot's gone."

For the first time that hellish day, Marcus smiled. He accepted the hat and the bucket of wash water with gratitude, then climbed into the back of the van and shut the doors. It was dim inside, since the cargo area didn't have any windows, but Marcus's eyes didn't need much light to see by. He peeled off his ruined clothes and left them in a heap in the corner to dispose of later. He then dipped the washrag into the bucket, wrung it out, and proceeded to rinse off the worst of the blood and grime from his skin. He shuddered a little every time his fingers brushed against metal.

When he was done the water in the bucket was a murky pink color. He threw on his fresh clothes, laced up his boots, and opened the van doors. Milo was waiting outside. "I'll clean everything up," he said, indicating the discarded clothes and the bucket of dirtied water, "I'm guessing you're in a hurry to be somewhere."

"The hospital tent," Marcus explained, "Blair's being operated on."

"D'you know how serious it is?" Milo asked.

Marcus shook his head. "She didn't wake up since I found her. There was a lot of blood..."

Milo squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. "Blair's one of the toughest fighters we got. She won't go down easy, I can tell you that."

"I know," Marcus said, though he didn't feel anywhere near as confident as his words.

Resistance Safe Zone, mobile hospital & mess tent...

Marcus couldn't say for sure how long he waited. Long enough for the other patients' immediate needs to be met and the mobile hospital to settle into a calmer pace. Marcus alternated between sitting hunched over in a metal chair sturdy enough to hold him to pacing restlessly beside the surgery room's door flap. He wished there was a window for him to peer through, even though he doubted he would've been able to see much. At least then he might guess how well things were going by watching the surgical team at work, seeing if they were relatively calm and ordered or frantically scrambling. But Marcus was left in the dark and his fearful imaginings.

He couldn't lose Blair. She was the only thing that kept him going. The only reason he hadn't tried to put an armor-piercing bullet through his steel skull. When he was with her he felt like an actual human being. Not just that, but a man whose life might even be worth a damn. It didn't matter what he told her about his past or how he tried to push her away, she always stood by him, supported him, accepted him. Maybe even loved him. And she took so little in return, far less than she deserved. Marcus silently promised to change that. No more distancing himself. No more holding back. Just let her live...

The door flap moved aside and a tired Kate Connor stepped through. Marcus immediately jumped to his feet and hurried over to her. "What happened? Is she okay?"

Kate rolled her shoulders and tilted her head back with a weary sigh. She still wore her surgical cap and her mask dangled from around her neck. "Blair's stable," she replied, "There was some internal bleeding we got under control. Two broken ribs, fractures in both the tibia and fibula of her left leg, and a hairline fracture to the right clavicle."

"That's a lotta broken bones," Marcus remarked dumbly.

Kate rubbed her forehead. "Having several hundred pounds of wreckage fall on you will do that. Ironically, it also shielded her from the worst of the explosive heat from the crash. You said her right arm was sticking out?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she sustained second- and third-degree burns on that arm. I had to amputate the ring and little fingers from that hand. The damage to them was too severe."

Marcus tried to stay calm by reminding himself that Blair was left-handed and losing a couple of fingers wouldn't hamper her. But something in Kate's expression told him the worst was yet to come. "What aren't you telling me?"

Kate stood, hands on hips, her eyes gazing down and off to the side. She slowly pursed her lips as she searched for the easiest way to break the news, resigned herself to the fact that there was no gentle way to say it. "I found shrapnel in her right eye. I managed to extract it without taking the eye, but the damage..." she hesitated, which was out of character for her.

Marcus felt despair settle into what passed for his gut. "She's gonna be blind on that side, isn't she?"

"She might regain some vision in that eye," Kate said without much hope.

"But not enough so she can still fly," Marcus concluded. There was a reason no one ever heard of a one-eyed pilot, they didn't exist. Aside from lightning reflexes and resistance to intense physical pressure, piloting required excellent depth perception. And depth perception required two functioning eyes.

Marcus clenched his fists and stared down at his boots. Being a pilot was more than just a job for Blair. It was obvious from the way she talked about it. Flying meant everything to her. For the briefest instant Marcus wondered if Blair might've been better off if he never found her. If she'd died out in the battlefield without ever waking up.

"Listen," Kate's voice dragged his attention back to her. He raised his eyes and took in her intensely serious look. "We both know how strong Blair is," she continued, "but if she's going to recover from this trauma she's going to need a support system. For whatever reason she's become emotionally attached to you. I need to know right now if you have what it takes to step up and be there for her, because this is the time when she'll need your help the most."

Marcus took a steadying breath and nodded. After everything Blair had done for him, he couldn't walk away from her now even if he wanted to.

"Good," Kate sighed, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders just a little.

"Can I-" Marcus cleared his throat, "Can I see her?"

"She's still under, and I want to give her some time to recover from the surgery." Kate looked him over with a critical eye. "Go eat something. You look like a Terminator with those metal bones showing."

Marcus self-consciously pulled up the collar of his shirt to hide his damaged flesh. "Lemme know when Blair wakes up."

"I will," Kate assured him, already turning away.

Marcus left the hospital and found his way to the large tent set up as the mess hall. The smell of cooked food triggered a sensation that was the closest to hunger he'd experienced since waking up to this post-Judgment Day world. After all the damage he took his organic components were in desperate need of nutrients and protein. He grabbed a bowl and spoon from the stack and took his place at the end of the line. No one stepped up behind him. Apparently most of the camp had already eaten. As the line inched forward Marcus was all too aware of the furtive glances and whispered exchanges going on around him. There was a time, before he fucked up his life and ended his brother's, when he loved being the center of attention. Now he wished he could just disappear.

Tabitha was among those ladling out the food. Her face lit up when she saw him and she darted out from behind the long table to give him a hug, much to Marcus's consternation. "Milo said you made it back, but it's so good to see it for myself. How's Blair? Is she still in surgery?"

"No, she's out now. She's..." he chewed his lip for a second, "stable."

Tabs heard the words he left unsaid and squeezed his arm in sympathy. "What about you? You alright?"

"Yeah, y'know...take a licking and keep on ticking," he finished lamely. Tabitha smiled anyway.

"C'mon," she said, "Since you're the last in line, you can have as much as you want from whatever we have left."

Marcus surprised himself by eating quite a bit more than he usually did. Maybe he was more torn up than he thought. Not surprisingly, he ended up with a table pretty much to himself. People didn't all get up at once and run off, but they did wind up finishing their meals within the next few minutes after he sat down and left the table in pairs and small groups. Marcus wasn't isolated for long, though. Tabs, Milo, and their seven kids soon arrived to take up the vacant chairs. Marcus found himself sitting between the same two kids as when he'd eaten dinner at their place: the curious little boy and the preteen girl (who still blushed every time he looked at her). The family chattered away while Marcus ate. The sound of all those voices going at once was oddly comforting.

A weird feeling made him look down to see the little boy sticking his finger through a hole in Marcus's wrist to prod the steel parts underneath.

"Max!" Milo barked, "Stop poking at Marcus."

The kid jerked his hand away and slumped in an exaggerated show of contrition. "Sowwy."

Marcus bit back a grin.

"Does it hurt?" the shy girl asked in a tiny voice.

Marcus shrugged. "Kinda itches." He pulled back his sleeve to reveal more of the open gash. Thanks to all the food he just ate, the wound was shrinking quickly.

The little boy Max's eyes widened. "Wow!"

"Too bad we can't all recover that fast," Milo sighed.

Marcus covered his arm again. "That's easy to fix. All you gotta do is donate your body to science," he muttered sourly, "Then fifteen years later, presto."

"Pwesto!" Max chortled, oblivious to the cyborg's bitterness. Marcus gave him a crooked smile and reached over to muss the boy's hair.

"So," Milo said after a moment's awkward silence, "Guess since you're healing up I'll be getting my hat back tomorrow?" His wife rolled her eyes.

Marcus smirked.

A small figure darted through the maze of tables and ran up to Marcus. His expression morphed into a genuine smile. "Hey, Star."

The little girl tugged at his sleeve.

"What?" Marcus sobered, "Did Kate send you."

Star nodded and pointed in the direction of the hospital. Her behavior said it was urgent.

"Don't worry about the dishes. I'll take care of them," Tabs said.

"Thanks." Marcus got to his feet and hurried after Star, who'd already trotted ahead.

Resistance Base, mobile hospital ICU...

Marcus thanked Star before entering the ICU. The silent girl smiled and threw her arms around his waist in a brief hug before leaving. A nurse escorted Marcus into the private room where Blair lay hooked up to a variety of equipment to monitor her life signs. The steadiness of the quiet beeps did little to reassure him. Most of the right side of her face was covered in bandages, and her right hand was wrapped up like a mummy's. Marcus also noticed the long hill under the blanket which indicated the cast on her left leg. Her complexion was pale and the area around her good eye was bruised. It hurt Marcus to see her this way.

John and Barnes were in the room, as well as Kate. Blair was awake and reclining in her hospital bed. She looked weak, either from her wounds or from the drugs running through the system. Or both. If the bed wasn't reclined, she wouldn't have been able to sit up. But despite her exhaustion, she beamed when she saw Marcus.

"Hey," she rasped, "My knight in shining armor."

Marcus went to stand at her left side. Blair reached out and grasped his hand with her undamaged one. "Kate was just about to give me the bad news," she told him. She tried to keep her tone light, but Marcus heard the anxiety underneath.

"We were waiting for you," Kate said, and her look told him to be ready for whatever Blair's reaction might be. She then proceeded to tell the fallen pilot the extent of her injuries. As she talked Blair's face remained relatively calm. Her grip on Marcus's hand tightened for a second when Kate related to her the amputated fingers. But when the doctor told her about her eye, Blair went completely still.

"We need to give your eye time to heal before we can find out how much of your vision you'll get back," Kate continued, calm and professional, "But it's unlikely you'll ever regain your full sight."

Blair still didn't react. She might have been listening to a weather report for all the emotion she showed.

John spoke, "We've lost a lot of good soldiers to a lot less that what you've survived. You're one of our strongest fighters. You'll survive this and come out even stronger."

"We're all here for ya, Blair," Barnes assured her, "Everybody's gonna help you get through this."

Blair licked her lips and swallowed. "Could you, uh... Could you please go? I need some time to process this."

"Okay. There's a nurse just outside if you need anything," Kate said as she ushered her husband and Barnes out the door. They said a few more supportive words before they left. Kate paused to look at Marcus. He hadn't moved from the bedside, and Blair still held his hand. Kate nodded once, then left the room as well.

A few minutes passed in which neither Blair nor Marcus moved or spoke. Then Blair's stoic expression slowly collapsed and her shoulders trembled as she began to cry. Marcus watched helplessly for a moment. He started to pull away, but Blair's fingers tightened around his. She struggled to compose herself enough to talk. "Um," she somehow managed to keep her voice steady, "Don't go, okay?"

Marcus stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "I'm not going anywhere."

He glanced around, saw a stool close by and dragged it closer with his free arm. He lowered himself onto it with some trepidation, wondering if it could support his weight. It creaked a little, but held firm. Marcus leaned his elbows against the bed and cradled Blair's hand in both of his. "I'm right here."

Blair nodded, unable to say any more. She squeezed her eye shut and turned her face away. For the longest time the only sounds in the room were the beeps of the monitoring equipment and Blair's quiet sobs.