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sym·pa·thy [símpəthee]

(plural sym·pa·thies)

n

1. capacity to share feelings: the ability to enter into, understand, or share somebody else's feelings

2. feelings caused by sympathy: the feelings of somebody who enters into or shares another's feelings

3. sorrow for another's pain: the feeling or expression of pity or sorrow for the pain or distress of somebody else

4. inclination to feel alike: the inclination to think or feel the same as somebody else

5. agreement: agreement or harmony with something or somebody else

6. allegiance or loyalty: allegiance or loyalty to a group or cause

Resistance base, eight hours later...

The mission was considered a success, since they brought back everything they were sent for. All the surviving members of the salvage team were debriefed, together and individually. Marcus decided having to answer the same tedious questions hour after hour, not to mention having to relive the incident with Ross and his gang, was the worst part of this whole shitty day. He hated talking about what he did, how easy it was to kill those men, how machine-like he felt then. He even blurted something to that effect at one point and the officer debriefing him surprised him by saying, "Every soldier gets like that. It's the anger, it focuses us. All the other emotions come after, unfortunately all at once. For some of us it's too much."

Marcus found himself gazing in shock at the older gray-haired man who had the look of a career soldier from before Judgment Day. And yet this man had basically just shown him sympathy.

After finally getting released from the debriefing, Marcus went straight to the base's kennels rather than his and Blair's quarters. It wasn't that difficult to locate Kim. She was the only dog in the whole place who wasn't walking around, playing, or barking. She lay curled up in a corner of her pen, dark eyes open and staring apathetically. Her food and water dish lay a short distance from her, their contents apparently untouched. Marcus watched her for a minute before he noticed someone approaching from the corner of his eye. He turned his head just enough to see it was one of the keepers, a young black woman with her hair buzzed close to her scalp. Her stance was casual, but her expression carried a hint of trepidation.

"You Wright?"

Wary, he nodded.

"Thanks for bringin' Kim home. Chase would've appreciated that."

Marcus shrugged. "Couldn't bring his body back. Didn't seem right to leave his dog behind, too."

Sadness clouded the woman's eyes. "Chase was one of our best handlers. He used to train assistance dogs for quadriplegics and such back in the day. He's been Kim's handler since she was a puppy."

That explained Kim's despondency now. "She gonna be okay?" Marcus asked.

The keeper shook her head in uncertainty. "Hard to say. She might get through the grief in a few days, she might not. I've seen dogs who lost their handlers pretty much lay down and die from sadness. It's rare, but it can happen."

"Anything you can do?"

"Not really," she sighed, "There ain't enough keepers to give her the kind of attention she probably needs. We just don't have the time."

It didn't seem right. Marcus didn't bring the mutt safely back just so she could give up now. Too many lives had been wasted already.

"There any rules against keeping dogs in people's quarters?"

The corner of the woman's mouth twitched. "No... Why?"

Blair was waiting for him in their quarters. The moment he entered, she stood up with the aid of the cane she'd graduated to thanks to her physical therapy. Her eye patch was off, and both eyes widened at the sight of Marcus walking in with both arms full of Kim.

"Y'know, I'd settle for an apology for not waking me this morning," she stated drily, "You didn't hafta get me a dog."

Marcus set Kim down and the mutt promptly headed for the nearest isolated corner to curl up in, showing little or no interest in her surroundings. Marcus unslung a bag from his shoulder that contained Kim's food and water dish along with a couple of days worth of dog food. "She needs looking after."

"And nobody else could do it?" Blair asked, more curious than annoyed.

"The others were gonna just leave her behind," he muttered while arranging the dishes close to where the dog lay and filling them.

Blair limped over and carefully lowered herself until she sat cross-legged on the floor. She set her cane aside and gently scratched Kim behind the ears. The dog didn't react. "First me and now this mutt," she remarked, "You always been the guy who had to take care of everybody?"

Marcus snorted. "Hell no. I didn't even take care of myself." He crouched down beside her. "Guess I'm trying to make up for getting her handler killed."

Blair frowned. "What the hell are you talking about? The whole salvage team would be dead if it wasn't for you."

"Where'd you hear that shit?"

"From your team." Blair nodded at Marcus's look of surprise. "Yeah. They're saying those bandits would've killed them all and taken the meds if you hadn't been there."

Marcus shook his head, unable to believe her.

"Why do you think they asked you to come with them?" Blair insisted, "They were heading into a high-risk area. The last time a salvage team went into a situation like that, none of them made it back. If the machines didn't get them, marauders like the ones you fought probably did. Earhart believed having you along with them would increase their chances of getting back alive, and she was right. You proved yourself out there."

"Yeah," he muttered bitterly, "Connor's pet robot."

Blair punched him in the shoulder hard enough to bruise. Marcus wasn't sure if he was more shocked by this unexpected act, or the fact that she used her damaged right hand.

"Dammit, you can't keep talking like that," she snapped, "You're not like those things out there. You're a human being who makes his own choices. You decided to stick with the Resistance. You decided to drag me out of that battlefield. And you decided to fight for your team. You don't have to prove your worth to anyone, least of all yourself." She glared at him. "So I don't wanna hear any more of that 'pet robot' shit, you got it?"

Marcus stared at her like he was really seeing her for the first time. Then he startled them both by leaning in and kissing her. They'd kissed many times before, but until now Marcus never initiated them. His hand came up to slide his fingers through her dark brown hair and cup the back of her head. When they finally drew apart, Marcus gazed intently into her eyes and murmured, "Thanks."

Blair blinked a couple of times to clear away the pleasure-induced fog from her brain and stammered, "Uh, you're welcome."

Marcus chuckled, got up and took both her hands to help her stand. He looked down at their joined hands, ran his thumbs over her knuckles. "I keep telling myself it'd be better if I pushed away from you."

"Better for who?" Blair asked, her voice subdued.

"For you." He met her eyes. "I don't want you winding up as some kinda pariah for being with me."

Blair freed her left hand from his grip and touched his face. "Why don't you let me decide for myself what's best for me."

Marcus swallowed and nodded. "Okay."

"No more pushing me away?"

"No more pushing away," he agreed.

Resistance base, sunrise...

A memorial service was held for Chase. It was conducted outside, with plenty of guards sent out to keep watch. Marcus was surprised by the turnout. Chase didn't have any family or even close friends. His life centered around the dogs he trained and cared for. Nevertheless, a sizable portion of the base's population attended the service. John Connor himself spoke, and Marcus was impressed by how much the resistance leader knew about Chase. He wondered if Connor made a habit of learning things about everyone under his command, or if he just crammed the details at the last minute. In all honesty, Marcus was betting on the former. It fit with Connor's deep sense of responsibility for all his people.

Earhart and Guiterez took their turns speaking as well. Their speeches were shorter, but no less weighty because of it. Earhart especially had a lot of regret over losing a man. That hadn't happened to her in a long time, and even though the loss was in no way her fault, everyone could tell she felt responsible. It was a burden every leader carried.

Marcus was asked to say some words, but he declined. It didn't feel right speaking about a man he only knew for a few hours. He stood in silence among the other mourners and tried to convince himself nobody was looking at him. Blair's hand squeezing his reassured and centered him. He squeezed her hand back to let her know he was grateful.

The service ended quietly. No 21 gun salute to give away their position. A single trombonist played "Taps" on an old horn while the crowd slowly dispersed. The majority of them went back inside the old mine. There was still work to be done, in spite of these sad circumstances. Marcus was walking, still hand-in-hand with Blair, on his way to the motor pool where he assumed he would return to his old mechanic duties. But he found their way blocked by Sergeant Earhart.

"Wright, I'd like a word with you," she said in her usual dispassionate tone.

Marcus glanced at Blair, who gave him a smile of reassurance. "Alright," he replied cautiously.

"My team's already been assigned a new dog and handler," the sarge informed him, "But I'd like you to join us as well, on a permanent basis."

Marcus didn't even try to hide his astonishment. "Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious," was Earhart's flat response, "Having you with us gives us an edge. I'll do whatever it takes to increase our chances, and right now that means taking you on. I've already cleared it with Connor."

Marcus had no idea what to say. He never expected something like this. His first impulse was to say no, but he knew it was just his anxiety talking. "This an offer or an order?"

"An offer," the sergeant said, "It's up to you whether or not to accept."

"You need my answer now?"

Earhart shook her head. "There's still time before our next mission. Take a day or two to think it over, then get back to me."

"Okay." He watched the stoic woman walk away, then turned to Blair. "What the hell?"

"You really didn't see that coming?" Blair laughed, "I knew as soon as you all got back she'd be making a request to reassign you to her permanently. I'm betting it was Connor's idea to leave it up to you."

Marcus scowled down at the scuffed toes of his boots as they continued walking through the maze of tunnels. "Should I say yes?"

"It's not my decision."

"I wanna know what you think."

Blair pursed her lips in thought. "I think your work in the motor pool is important. The resistance couldn't function without its vehicles. But I also think that you could accomplish a lot more for us out in the field. Like it or not, you were built to fight, and you're good at it. We need all the fighters we can get." She cast a rueful glance at her cane.

Marcus sighed. "I need to talk it over with Angelo and maybe Milo."

"But you'll give it some real thought," Blair ventured.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll think about it."

They came to a branch in the tunnel, one leading to the dormitory area where their quarters were, the other leading towards the motor pool. Marcus released Blair's hand and turned to face her. He hesitated, conscious of the other people passing by them, then leaned in to give her a kiss. It was brief, but meaningful, and left Blair with a smile. "I'll see ya later," Marcus said.

"Later," Blair agreed. Then the two of them went their separate ways.

"Hell yeah, you should say yes!" Milo exclaimed when Marcus asked for his input, "Why the hell 're you even asking me?"

This was not what Marcus expected. He would've thought his friend would show at least a little regret at the tought of the two of them no longer working together. "You eager to get rid of me?" he half-joked.

Milo scoffed, "No, but c'mon, man! Everybody knows you don't really belong here in the dungeon with us grease-monkeys. You should be out there kicking those Terminators' metal asses. It's what we all wanna see from you, not just here, but the whole base."

Marcus blinked. He figured everyone in the base talked about him, but not like that.

Seeing his friend's expression, Milo chuckled and shook his head in amazement. "You don't get it, do you? D'you even know what people say about you?"

"Sure," he grumbled, "That I'm Connor's pet robot."

"Maybe at first," Milo conceded, "but not now. Not after you went back for Blair, and definitely not after what you did for the salvage team."

Marcus finally asked the question he'd been avoiding all this time. "What are people saying about me?"

"You're proof that we can win this war," Milo declared solemnly, "Skynet made you to be the perfect spy, but it couldn't control the part of you that's still human." He tapped the side of his head with his finger for emphasis. "You fought back against all that programming and won. If that ain't proof that humankind stands a chance, I don't know what is. And seeing you squirreling yourself away down here, wasting your talents, is just a tragedy. We need you to fight for us to keep us all going."

This was too much. The idea was absurd. Him, a symbol of hope? "You already got Connor to be your hero."

"And with you on our side, we'll believe in his words even more," Milo countered.

"This is crazy," Marcus ran both hands through his close-cropped hair, "I'm not like that. I'm a car thief and a death-row inmate, for chrissakes!"

Milo chuckled, "And Connor used to hack into ATMs when he was a kid. History's got nothin' to do with today, man."

"I guess not." His breath huffed out of him and he lowered his arms. "I just don't know if I wanna handle that kind of responsibility."

"It's not like you'll be in charge," his friend pointed out, "You'll be workin' under Earhart, right?"

Marcus nodded.

"Then the tough job belongs to her. All you gotta do is follow orders."

"And be humanity's symbol for victory over the machines," Marcus added drily.

"That too," Milo grinned.

Marcus's gaze turned inward for a moment, then he nodded to himself. "I'm gonna go talk to Angelo now."

"Okay." Milo slapped his shoulder. "You take care out there, Number Five."

"Number Five?"

The mechanic rolled his eyes. "Short Circuit. God, you really gotta watch more movies!"

"I'll add it to my to-do list." Marcus smiled as he walked away.

Later that afternoon he found Blair in their quarters, trying to coax Kim to eat something from her hand.

"How's she doing?" Marcus asked.

Blair smiled up at him. "She drank some water. There was chicken for lunch today and I brought back some scraps. Figured maybe she'd be more inclined to eat that than dry kibble."

Marcus crouched down beside them and scratched the dog behind the ears. "Any luck so far?"

"Not really," Blair sighed, "How're things with you?"

Marcus took a second to gather his thoughts. "I said yes to Earhart's offer. I'm gonna join her salvage team."

Blair grinned. "I figured you would. You okay with your choice?"

"I don't know." Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. "Seems like people are making a lot more out of it than just me helping to fetch supplies."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Apparently, I'm a 'symbol'." There was no missing the sarcasm in his voice.

Blair gently cupped his chin in her hand and lifted his head to meet her eyes. "To me, you're someone who can do a lot of good for the resistance. As a symbol and as a warrior. And when I finally get rid of this damn cane, I'll be fighting right beside you. That's a promise."

Marcus smiled, took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze before releasing it. He then reached down to pick up a piece of chicken from the dog's bowl and waved it under Kim's nose. "Come on," he coaxed, "We don't get stuff like this everyday. No sense letting good food go to waste."

Kim's nose twitched, but she showed no other reaction.

Marcus stroked her thick fur with his other hand. "C'mon. I know you miss him, but you're not doing Chase's memory any good by starving yourself."

A few more seconds passed before the mutt finally lifted her head and took the proffered meat from the cyborg's hand. As soon as she swallowed, she turned her attention to the rest of the chicken scraps. She ate without the typical enthusiasm of a dog receiving such a treat, but she did eventually empty the bowl.

"See?" Blair grinned at Marcus, "You're inspiring somebody already."

Marcus shook his head with a rueful smile.