A/N: Thanks to Lopsided Whiskey Grin for the nice PM. Here's the next chapter. It kinda breezes through the next few months of the story, but the next chapter's gonna start a new adventure for our favorite couple. Also, things heat up a bit between Blair and Marcus. Nothing graphic, but a hint of what's to come. ;-)

Disclaimer: Terminator Salvation, Marcus, Blair, and any other recognizable characters from the movie do not belong to me.

sym·bi·o·sis [sìm bī ṓssiss, sìmbee ṓssiss]

(plural sym·bi·o·ses [sìm bī ṓ seèz])

n

1. close association of animals or plants: a close association of animals or plants of different species that is often, but not always, of mutual benefit

2. mutually beneficial relationship: a cooperative, mutually beneficial relationship between two people or groups

Resistance Base, five months later...

It didn't take long for Marcus do get used to this new way of life. Most salvage ops were achieved without incident, a few required some tricky getaways, and a handful of times the team found themselves fighting for their lives, both from machines and other, less scrupulous humans. There were injuries, minor and major, and once they lost a dog to a grenade, but so far there were no other fatalities in the team. This was due in part to Marcus. Whenever there was an especially dangerous task that had to be done, he always stepped up before Earhart even had to glance his way. It was what he was there for, after all. Better he take the hits than his frailer teammates. He never developed close relationships with any of them, but he had their complete trust, and they always had his back. A fact that was proven two months into his new career as a salvager. Marcus found himself caught in a deadly fight with two hulking T-600s. He defeated them, barely, but his left leg was so heavily damaged he couldn't walk on it. The rest of the team refused to leave him behind, even though he slowed them down and put them at greater risk of getting caught by more machines. They dragged him all the way back to the base where the eggheads in HQ who spent their lives studying and disassembling captured Terminators were able to fix him up to fighting condition once again.

Marcus was surprised to discover that he was becoming less inclined to hide his differences as time passed. Not as if everybody didn't already know, he reasoned. He no longer bothered to carry food rations on missions, since he never really needed them. He didn't try to cover up the wounds that exposed his metal underpinnings, unless there were strangers present. He even laughed whenever someone cracked a robot joke, because he knew there was no malice towards him. He started learning everyone's names, started pausing in the corridors to engage in casual conversation, started feeling like he wasn't such an outsider after all.

Once or twice a week he and Blair ate dinner with Milo's and Tabitha's family. Those evenings were always full of good times, laughing, talking, and playing with the kids. Tabitha's pregnancy advanced without complication. Marcus was surprised by the level of energy she maintained despite the increasing load she carried.

Blair, too, underwent a transformation in the ensuing months. She worked at her physiotherapy with unrelenting determination, trying to get her leg back in top condition as well as improving the dexterity of her disfigured hand. Her right eye gradually regained almost thirty percent of its vision, which was better than Kate Connor expected. Once the doctor cleared her for it, Blair started spending time at the shooting range. Even with her compromised eyesight, weeks of practice enabled her to regain most of her accuracy.

She didn't stop there, though. She took Kim with her to the kennels and managed to wangle some time with one of the trainers. He taught Blair the various commands to use on Kim, and also how to interpret the dog's unique body language for any given situation. The trainer told Blair she was a natural dog handler. She developed a bond with the dog and Kim's depression lifted under her attention. There was rarely a time when she wasn't seen at Blair's side. They became so attuned to each other some said it was almost like telepathy. Just like it was with Chase.

Five months after Marcus joined Earhart's team, Blair put in a request to join them as Kim's handler. When she told Marcus, his reaction wasn't quite what she expected.

"You sure that's a good idea?"

Blair's head jerked up. She was seated on the edge of her cot, untying her boots before getting into bed. The look she gave him was incredulous. "What're you talking about?"

Marcus pursed his lips. "Couples and family members don't usually work together."

"There's no rule against it."

"Yeah, but it ain't encouraged either," he countered, "C'mon, Blair, we both know there's a good reason for it. People don't always make the right decisions when they're too busy worrying if they'll put the person they care about in danger."

Blair stood, putting herself almost level with his gaze. "Are you saying you don't want me on your team?"

Marcus sighed. "I'm saying I don't wanna spend every mission worrying about you. It doesn't mean I don't think you got what it takes. I just won't be able to help myself."

Blair frowned, though she seemed to listen well enough not to let her temper rise. "What about me?"

Marcus blinked in confusion.

"How do you think I feel," she continued, "every time you go off on a salvage op and leave me behind? You're not unbreakable, Marcus. If something happened to you out there...I'd never stop wondering if things might've gone different with me there to watch your back."

Marcus's expression softened. He reached out and took both her hands in his, noting with some relief that Blair no longer shied from letting him hold her damaged right hand. "If your request's okayed, we'll give it a shot. But you know if there's any problem Earhart 'll transfer your ass right back out."

"There won't be any problem," Blair grinned and twined her arms around his neck, "We're already the perfect team."

Marcus smirked. He rested his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. "You ready for bed?"

Blair's grin broadened. They switched off the lanterns used to light their chamber, then climbed into Marcus's bed. There was a rustle of cloth and a few minutes later their breathing grew heavier.

This aspect of their relationship had been a gradual buildup. It started with Marcus waking some nights to Blair curled up beside him. He found he liked having here there with him, and after a while he asked if they really needed the second cot. So they got rid of it. Over time they graduated to kisses and tentative caresses. They started craving more contact between them, until they reached a level of intimacy Marcus never thought they'd ever achieve.

They didn't make love. Marcus still wasn't able to go that far. But they did other things together with hands and mouths, skin against bare skin. Blair's panting turned into moans while Marcus whispered encouragement. Finally, there was a brief cry, then husky laughter. Blair always laughed after she climaxed. All those endorphins swimming through her.

Marcus rolled onto his back, pulling Blair along so she lay with her head on his chest. She listened to his strong heart gradually slow from their activities. Her favorite sound.

"You okay?" Marcus asked, wondering at her silence. He felt her nod.

"I just wish..."

"I know." He kissed her hair. She told him more than once how she wished he got something out of these intimate moments. Marcus tried to explain that it was enough knowing how much pleasure he could bring her. He didn't need anything more, as long as she was happy.

Resistance Base, two days later...

Skynet built its armies of Terminators, Harvesters, and Hunter-Killers in vast factories scattered throughout the world. Some factories, however were specialized. There were factories devoted specifically to creating the nuclear cels used to power the machines, factories which manufactured the interface chips that linked every individual unit to Skynet, and factories dedicated to assembling the delicate and complex devices that were the Terminators' artificial brains. All of these specialized items were shipped to other facilities in heavily armored, heavily armed airborne vessels that were all but impossible for the Resistance to take down. And if they somehow did succeed in shooting one of these flying armored cars from the sky, the ships were equipped with self-destruct devices so that their cargo could not be taken and used by Skynet's enemies.

Still, once in a great while, the Resistance got lucky.

The day after Blair's request to join Earhart's salvage team was approved, one such cargo ship suffered a one-in-a-trillion malfunction in its cognitive systems and crashed down in the vast wasteland of California. Its distress beacon failed to initiate, as did its self-destruct protocol. The vessel was essentially braindead.

Two Resistance fighter jets out on patrol spotted the downed ship and immediately notified HQ of this miraculous find. Connor and his people knew they only had a small window in which to take advantage. It was only a matter of time before Skynet used the vessel's last known whereabouts to triangulate its current position. They had to act fast.

Sergeant Earhart's team was called in along with several other salvage teams for a quick briefing. Connor informed them of the crashed cargo vessel and the plan to acquire at least some of its contents for the Resistance. The advanced technology would prove invaluable in learning more about the machine's weaknesses, as well as cannibalizing for their own use.

"You will be airlifted to the crash site," Connor said, "There you will find a way into the vessel and collect as much of its cargo as you can. You will then fall back and let the demo team do their work." The demolition team's task was to set off a powerful explosion which would hopefully convince the machines that the ship's self-destruct actually went off. That way Skynet would be unaware that the Resistance got hold of some of its technology. If it did know, it would no doubt make alterations which would render any advantages the Resistance gained moot.

Blair shared a rueful look with Marcus. It figured that her first mission with the team required leaving Kim behind. "Least I get to fly again," she said.

Marcus smiled, but she could see the concern in his expression. She gave his knee a squeeze. "I'm not gonna get all weepy once we're in the air," she insisted. She'd made peace with this turn in her life. She did expect some bittersweet emotions during the airlift, but nothing she wouldn't be able to handle.

"I don't want any heroics on this mission," Connor warned, "First sign of any machine activity, you cut and run. Everybody comes back alive from this, understood?"

"Yes sir!" every voice in the room called out, including (to his dismay) Marcus's.

The salvage teams set out with a deep sense of purpose. Geared up and armed, they rushed out to the waiting gunships. The massive helicopters' rotors stirred up a hurricane wind that battered the approaching men and women. Marcus and Blair kept their heads low as they powered their way through the gale to the vessel. Marcus resisted the impulse to reach out and grab Blair's hand to help her along. He knew she'd only shake him off and probably glare at him.

For her part, Blair half-wished he would try to help. She could've used the reassurance. The closer she got to the gunship, the tighter her throat felt. It was hard for her, knowing she wouldn't be the one in the pilot's seat. Trusting her life to someone else's flight skills. It wasn't easy.

Seated inside the helicopter, watching the ground recede beneath them, Marcus felt a touch on his arm and turned to see Blair gazing out at the landscape, her eyes shining with barely contained tears. He reached out and took her hand in a firm grip. "I'm a nervous flyer," he yelled over the noise of the rotors.

Blair smiled in gratitude at his thin excuse and spent the rest of the flight clutching his hand.