Terminator Salvation John Connor Meets T-800 Genisys. TERMINATOR GENISYS Clip 'War of the Machines' Fresh Movie Trailers. Terminator Salvation Game. Terminator Salvation, free and safe download. 802.11 b/g/n wifi driver download windows 10. Terminator Salvation latest version: Online strategy based on the post apocalyptic movie. In most cases using a No-CD or Fixed EXE will solve this problem! Some Game Trainers are sometimes reported to be a Virus or Trojan, the most common is a keylogger called HotKeysHook or the file has been packed/protected with VMProtect or Themida and is recognized as Win32/Packed.VMProtect or Win32/Packed.Themida.
- Patch Francais Terminator Salvation 2
- Patch Francais Terminator Salvation Full
- Terminator Salvation Game
…Four, five, six.
Marcus counted out the doors in his head as he passed them, coming to an uneasy halt in front of number six. Apprehensively he stood facing the door, and took a deep breath. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and knocked softly, twice.
Nothing.
He waited, and the seconds ticked by. Maybe she was asleep after all. It seemed likely; the murky halls were deserted so it had to be quite late. Marcus glanced around. In spite of himself, he decided to try one more time. He knocked on the door again, a little harder this time.
Definitely asleep.
Exhaling, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed, Marcus turned and began walking away when the sudden sharp click of a bolt being drawn back made his heart jump. Whirling, he saw the door ease open. A tousled-looking Blair squinted out into the hall.
Marcus bit his lip. 'Hey.'
'Marcus…' she replied softly, in surprise. 'Hey.'
He shrugged ineffectually. 'Didn't mean to wake you…'
She shook her head. 'No… It's okay. I'd just gotten into bed.' She squinted at him, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe. 'What's up?' She asked quietly.
He paused. Suddenly, it was all a bad idea. 'I just…Nothing. It can wait. Go back to bed.'
He turned to leave again, but Blair called after him. 'Marcus.' She wasn't stupid. And she wasn't about to let him off the hook that easy. 'Get your ass back here.'
He sat on a wooden chair that creaked dangerously under his weight, watching her as she moved around in the small space. The room was considerably bigger than the one given to him, but still Spartan. It had a larger bed, a chair, a wide table and a battered wardrobe in one corner. But the real difference between this room and his was that it was obviously someone's home, an inhabited space. There were things everywhere, old, sad-looking possessions; worn clothes in drab shades of grey and khaki were draped over furniture, a tattered knapsack sat on the floor by a pair of combat boots. On a small table by the bed lay a few trinkets and a well-worn paperback.
He shifted his attention back to her. She was wearing a thin tank top and a threadbare pair of pajamas, her long wavy hair more tousled than usual. He watched her long arms, her profile, as she set out two chipped, cracked mugs on the table and poured boiling water from an ancient-looking electric kettle into them.
'Here.' She handed one to him, and settled at the foot of the bed with the other.
Marcus took a cautious sniff. 'What is it?'
Blair paused. 'Herbal tea.'
Herbal tea? Marcus couldn't help the flicker of amusement that crossed his face. He wouldn't have guessed that Blair Williams, fearless Resistance fighter pilot and all-round badass was much of a connoisseur of herbal tea. A full-fledged smile threatened to break across his face. To hide it, he raised the cup to his lips and took a tiny sip. The hot liquid was bland, fragrant.
His thoughts seemed to broadcast across the space, and Blair's response – a sheepish smirk of acknowledgement – was as unexpected as his. 'Yeah, I know,' she said sardonically, 'Doesn't fit the 'profile'. But,' she warned him, 'Don't knock it till you've tried it. It works.'
'And what's it supposed to do exactly?' Marcus heard the gently mocking, almost flirtatious undertone in his gravelly voice as if it were coming from someone else's mouth. His stomach felt like stones; the last thing on his mind right now was flirting with Blair. But somehow, this odd chemistry always seemed to bubble up between them no matter what the circumstances…
As if sensing his thoughts again, though, Blair suddenly sobered. Shrugging, she said, 'It's supposed to calm you. Help you sleep, all that.' She took a sip, seemed to hesitate. 'My mother drank it all the time. She swore by it, but I used to hate the stuff. Never touched it.'
Any lingering urge to smile on his part evaporated as quickly as it had come. This was the first time she'd ever mentioned anything about a family, about her past.
'But you do now,' he prompted softly, his voice now grave.
She smiled a small, sad smile. 'Funny how perspectives change when the world ends, isn't it?'
Marcus watched her silently, acknowledging this. So she'd lost her mother. Of course, they'd all lost someone, if not everyone. But still. He took another sip, wishing he could say something that would help, knowing that he couldn't.
'How d'you get your hands on herbal tea in a post-Judgment Day world?' he asked instead after a while, curious… and eager to steer clear of talk of her dead mother.
'A friend. Dixon… he's one of our chopper pilots. He has some contacts in the, uh – well, it's a black market of sorts. He keeps an eye out, picks some up for me when he can.' She shrugged. 'It's surprisingly easy to get hold of the odd luxury item if you know the right people. It's the daily commodities we have to fight for,' she added.
For a while, they drank their tea in silence. Marcus sensed that this was the end of their hesitant small talk, the little reprieve she'd allowed him from the real conversation they were going to have. Had to have, really, in the wake of all that had been revealed… Surprisingly, despite everything else that weighed on him at that point, Marcus found himself wondering about this guy Dixon, who Blair spoke of with such an easy familiarity. Was there something going on between him and Blair? He dismissed the thought. It wasn't his place to wonder about that; Blair's life was her own business, he told himself.
She was watching him. 'So, where were you?' She asked finally. 'I went looking for you.' Her tone was studiedly casual, but he sensed the reproach.
He shifted guiltily. 'I'm sorry,' he muttered, the word feeling clumsy on his tongue. He couldn't remember the last time he'd apologized to anyone for anything. 'I was…' Words failed him so he shrugged. The sledgehammer that had been whacking away steadily at his temple all day seemed to gather new strength and he winced, massaging the area.
'How are you feeling?' she asked, more gently. 'Even Kate was worried when you stormed off. Said you should be taking it easy. After everything.'
That made him feel even worse. The last thing he wanted just now was to hear of anyone's concern for him. A very small part of him wondered briefly if the hatred hadn't been easier to tolerate.
'I'm fine. Just a headache.' As he uttered the words he realized he was obviously not fine; a headache was not something his carefully balanced, Skynet-enhanced nervous system would ordinarily be susceptible to. Again the irrational fear clutched at him. Something's wrong inside my head.
Blair drained her cup and set it down on the floor.
Marcus clenched his hands tightly around his own mug, feeling a hint of tenderness in his recovering hand. He'd unwound the bandage as he sat thinking in his little room earlier, and the sight of his newly-healed hand still surprised him. The skin was pink and a bit raw, but the flesh under it was good as new, as if nothing had ever happened. Even the nails had grown back.
He cleared his throat softly, realizing he was nervous. There was no easy way to do this; he wasn't much good at talking about heavy stuff to begin with, much less this stuff. He stared into the cup in his lap.
'Blair.' He paused. 'About today. I wanted to say… I'm sorry.' His throat seemed to dry up, and he hastily swallowed. 'That you had to find out the way you did.'
There was silence from Blair. Because he didn't dare look at her, he had no way of gauging her reaction. His words hung heavily in the silence.
With effort, Marcus willed himself to continue. 'I should have told you about my past. Before any of this. I should've told you about the shooting. And the execution… Serena Kogan… all of it…' he swallowed. 'But I couldn't.'
He managed a glance at her. Blair's face was expressionless but there was a flicker in her eyes. 'Marcus…'
Patch Francais Terminator Salvation 2
'Wait,' he said quickly. 'Let me finish.' He couldn't change what had happened but at least for once he could man up and tell the truth to someone who deserved to hear it. As hard as it was.
Her expression was indecipherable but she nodded.
'I don't know what you think of me now that you know,' he whispered, 'But I just wanted to say this; I'm sorry that… I'm not what you thought. That I'm not the good guy you thought I was.'
It seemed the truth actually did hurt – he was surprised by the dull ache in his chest as he spoke. But somehow, now that he'd begun, the words began pouring out. Hesitantly but steadily he continued his confession.
'When I met you, and what happened that night… you almost made me believe I was that good guy. I sat there thinking afterwards, and… maybe for the first time, I wanted to be. And then… everything happened. The landmine… Skynet. And then, what happened with John. I thought it was all over. You'd never have to know.'
Helplessly, he looked at Blair. She seemed to be blinking a little faster than usual but was otherwise composed. He forced himself to look her straight in the eyes as he continued now.
'And afterwards, after the surgery… I couldn't bring myself to tell you,' he admitted hoarsely. 'I didn't want you to hate me. I wanted to pretend like none of it had ever happened, that I could leave it all behind.'
There were definitely tears in her eyes now. Disappointment, or sorrow? Or rage? He had no idea.
'I know better now,' he finished heavily. 'The things I've done are a part of me – they'll haunt me as long as I live. I just wanted to say I shouldn't have kept you in the dark. Not you. I– '
Blair finally cut him off. 'Marcus.'
His gut clenched painfully. 'What?' he whispered.
For a moment she bit her lip, wiped roughly at the corner of her eye. Then she rose from the bed. 'Put on your coat.'
'Huh?' He stared up at her, completely thrown for a loop.
'Put on your coat,' she repeated firmly, reaching past him to take a jacket off the hook behind the door. She pulled on the jacket over her pajamas, and sat on the edge of the bed to tug on her boots.
'Where are we going?'
She yanked her laces tight. 'You'll see.'
John Silverman sighed deeply, as deeply as if he were trying to expel a lifetime's worth of regret and sorrow trapped in his body.
'Before I say anything else, you have to know that Serena… She had nothing to do with all of this. She was a scientist, pure and simple.'
This pronouncement was meant with stony silence from the Connors.
But Silverman now seemed unaffected. He had sunk deep into a well of memory, and his eyes took on a distant haze. 'I was privileged to work with her, to know her,' he muttered, almost speaking to himself. 'Damn, that entire group of doctors… they were something special. What that generation – my generation – of scientists was on the verge of was incredible, but Serena outdid them all – advanced prosthetics, transplants, regenerative gene therapy… all really exciting areas of research. So much promise…' he trailed off regretfully.
'But we should all have known better. Should've realized it could only end badly. When science becomes too radical, too advanced… well, you know the story. When the military started taking more and more of an interest in Cyberdyne's Genetics Division, people finally started realizing it, but it was already too late. Things were changing, and fast. We always knew that that kind of research was tricky, had its ethical limits. And hell, who'd be stupid enough to trust the establishment. But never did we imagine…'
'What?' John was barely controlling his impatience at Silverman's endless ramblings. 'What did you not imagine?'
'Well, what we were told was that the military wanted Serena's science. They wanted to buy it off her. To make it so that her techniques would be authorized only for top-secret military use.'
'For what purpose?' John spat.
'Essentially the same purpose that Serena was developing it for, apparently. To treat the crippled, war veterans seriously wounded in combat… that sort of thing–'
'Seems like an awful lot of effort to go to for a few paraplegics,' John broke in, a steely edge in his voice.
Silverman looked sharply at her. 'Exactly.'
Connor frowned. Something flickered in his head, a memory from many years ago… 'So that was just a cover… They didn't want the technology to treat injured soldiers,' he said quietly, dreading Silverman's response.
The older man shook his head gravely, once. 'Of course not. Far as they were concerned, once a soldier can't fight anymore you might as well take him out and shoot him like a dog.'
Kate bristled a bit at this vehement bitterness. 'You can't make a generalization like that,' she countered, but there was no real anger in her voice. 'My father was a military man, and he was a good man. The best.'
Silverman half-shrugged, as if to say What does it matter now?
'Look, can we move on? Connor was getting tired of having to prompt Silverman at every turn. 'What the fuck did they want?'
'Control. Absolute control and power.' Silverman answered simply. 'They fully intended to utilize the outcome of Serena's work in a way that better suited their purposes. What Serena did to Marcus – not just the process and how labor- and time-intensive it was, but how much it cost – why do you think she was able to do it? Where do you think the money came from? It was because they wanted to see if it could be done. And once they saw that it was actually happening, that it was workable, they began to move in. Began to take over. Do you realize that the military bought out Cyberdyne barely a month after Serena died? In a way, I think it's a mercy she was on her way out of this life… I can't imagine what it would have done to her to see her work taken away from her, everything snatched away and hidden out of reach…'
'So the military wanted exclusive rights to the technology. They wanted to use it for their own purposes. Dare we presume you'll tell us what those were?' Connor's tone had taken on a new level of dryness.
'They wanted to create super-soldiers,' Silverman said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He ignored the shock spreading across the faces of John and Kate as they took in the full implication of his words, continuing, 'If they'd had their way, Marcus would have been just a humble prototype, a granddad of sorts to the next-gen of fully-automated, remote-controlled hybrid soldiers.'
Silverman now spoke uninterrupted by John's caustic questions. 'Skynet had nothing on the military's plans. In fact, where on earth do you think Skynet got the idea of the terminators from in the first place? It was all there, all on record. The chip implant, the interface with his organics… Skynet is one lazy bastard. It doesn't invent anything, or do anything from scratch. All it has to do is mine its system for a universe of crazy, dangerous ideas to keep it busy. Skynet just modifies, it amends...'
'Look, hang on,' John broke in finally. 'This – this chip interface… you said earlier that Serena wasn't out to do anything sinister and that all she wanted was to repair people's bodies… if so then why have a microchip embedded in someone's head?'
'She didn't!' Silverman snapped impatiently. 'Serena had nothing to do with Marcus ending up with a chip in his head. The control bit, that was where the military came in, don't you see? To make their super-soldier program successful, the military would have to ensure a 100 percent rate of obedience from each one of these superhuman hybrids. Otherwise just think what could go wrong. Just think,' he urged, 'Of what would happen if one of these guys went out, got drunk on a Friday night and got into bar brawl!'
The words, possibly funny in another context, were chilling to hear. John couldn't help thinking back to when he was thirteen…
'Of course, that was an unacceptable risk,' Silverman continued. 'So the only way for something like this to work was to have complete and utter control of the hybrids. Hence the chip.' Silverman sat back in his chair. 'Another division of Cyberdyne was responsible for developing that chip under military supervision. The technology would've ensured that no hybrid was capable of disobeying a direct order… no matter what that order was. They would be like… well, like machines. Just carrying out orders.'
There was dead silence.
'So in effect,' John finally spoke quietly, 'The first Terminators would have been created by our own military.'
Kate glanced at him; there was a heaviness in his voice that she knew meant he was deeply shaken by what Silverman was telling them. He wasn't the only one.
'That's crazy,' she said softly.
Silverman looked at her appraisingly. 'Is it? You tell me. Is it really so crazy that our governments, our military, the same men who were sworn to protect – and who in fact made a fat profit off of wars, and dropped nuclear bombs on entire populations – would to do this?'
Kate continued as if speaking to herself. 'But assuming they could have done this, where would they find men willing to sign on– ' she bit off her own words hard as the answer became starkly obvious. Of course. Where had they found Marcus? Kate's mouth tightened into a thin line.
Silverman nodded at her obvious realization. 'Men like Marcus. Condemned prisoners, criminals, men with no hope – they would have been recruited into the program and given a choice that wasn't really a choice; undergo the procedure, or proceed to their sentencing, which for most of them was death, or life imprisonment in the best of circumstances. It would be an offer they couldn't refuse. Of course, they wouldn't be told they were going to sign up for complete mind-control, just… a top-secret military project.' Silverman's voice was low with disgust. 'Most people would find that infinitely preferable to death by lethal injection.'
A long silence spun out again.
'Marcus didn't,' Kate murmured, rather irrelevantly.
'Yes, but most would,' Silverman said, in a tone that was almost gentle now. 'That's what those in power count on, always have; the human will to live. To survive, no matter what the cost.'
John took a deep breath. 'Fucking idiots,' he swore under his breath. 'Like children playing God with insects,' he muttered bitterly. He leaned forward and sat quietly for a while with his head in his hands, not moving.
Then he seemed to shake off his thoughts.
'Right,' he said crisply. 'So, if we're to believe you, the United States government was on the verge of authorizing the forced creation of an army of human-machine hybrid soldiers about the time when Judgment Day happened.'
Silverman nodded.
'So what? The United States no longer exists. No government in the world does. Every secret the military owned and guarded so fiercely now belongs to Skynet. What could be worse than that? What does any of this have to do with Marcus now?'
Silverman refused to meet his eyes. 'It has everything to do with Marcus because the people who would have been responsible for the super-soldier program were not all killed in the aftermath of Judgment Day. If he were to become part of the Resistance, to mix freely with your people, to live and fight alongside them, word would get out… and it would really only be a matter of time, do you understand? Before someone came looking for him. To claim him.'
The stars were out and the night was still and cold. And absolutely silent. It struck Marcus again how complete the silence was; there was an absence of any of the usual night sounds – no insects, no small animals.
They were in an area of the base he didn't recognize, but looking around at the large tarmacked area, Marcus realized it was an airstrip. Or what was left of it.
'Up there,' Blair pointed at a tall shadowy structure a few hundred yards away. She led the way and up close, Marcus saw the structure had clearly been a control tower; it had obviously been bombed at some point in the past, and was now little more than a hulk of wreckage standing defiantly tall in the night.
But the remnants of the structure seemed solid enough, and Blair started up the ladder along one side without hesitation. Marcus paused, watching her effortlessly ascend the ladder before following. He wasn't sure what the point of this was, but he followed anyway.
As he cleared the last rung though, his breath caught in his throat. They were standing on a concrete platform in the rubble-strewn remains of what had once been the main control room – blown to pieces by a missile from the looks of the decimated remnants of pillars and crumbling walls here and there. But that wasn't what caught his attention him; it was the view beyond.
From their vantage point, they could see clearly around them for miles in all directions. If you looked carefully, you could make out the desolate stretch of land that made up the minefields. But what really caught the eye were the woods beyond. Surprisingly lush and dense, they stretched on for acres, over the gradually undulating land. Here and there, between the trees, the cold moonlight glittered off of visible patches of the river beside which he and Connor had faced each other over the barrel of a gun. Far in the distance there were gently rolling hills. In the dead of night, with only the stars and a waning moon to light it, the landscape was eerily beautiful.
As he stood looking around in obvious surprise, Blair stepped up from behind him. 'Not a bad view huh?' she asked softly.
He shook his head. 'Not bad at all.'
She let out a deep breath. 'I like coming here when it feels like it's all going to hell,' she told him.
'It's peaceful,' he murmured in agreement. They were silent for a while, both taking in the strangely soothing view.
'Strange,' Marcus said thoughtfully after a while, as something occurred to him, 'Standing here it's almost like–'
'Judgment Day never happened?' Blair finished.
He nodded in surprise. 'Exactly.'
From the height they were at, it was clear that the surrounding area had escaped obvious destruction. It had obviously never been a populated stretch of land to begin with, so there were no charred remains of towns or neighborhoods, no ghostly hulks of skyscrapers standing silently in the distance. Marcus suddenly recalled looking out over the impossible ruins of the once-glittering city of Los Angeles, a sight that had left him largely numb, partly because at that point he had still honestly believed he was trapped in some hyper-realistic nightmare…
But now, looking out over the serene nightscape, he found that for the first time the reality of what had happened to the world hit him; it wasn't just him and this Resistance base in a desolate corner of California. It was the whole goddamned planet. The realization came at him full force: all the world's major cities, every single major symbol of human civilization, of prosperity, advancement, technology, art, science… it was all gone. Not just hundreds of millions of lives wiped out of existence, but everything they and countless generations before them had built from the ground up, over not just decades, but centuries… simply obliterated.
In his own life Marcus had never spared much thought for an abstract notion of the world, of humanity. If anything, he'd hated the world. As long as he could remember, he'd been angry at it. He resented it and everyone in it who went around so fucking normally, so apparently devoid of the coiled hate and despair he'd carried all his life. But now, suddenly, as the enormity of the disaster washed over him, Marcus was blindsided by a tremendous sense of loss. He found himself struggling to comprehend the scale of the devastation. They had lost everything…
Blair sensed his train of thought.
'I know,' she said softly. 'It's hard to accept.'
Marcus shook his head bitterly. 'I can't believe it. Can't believe it's all gone…' he trailed off, staring into the night. He realized with a jolt that no matter how shitty his life might have been, it had contained countless small random moments of pure pleasure that the inhabitants of this cold and barren world could never even dream of.
It shook him to the core now to remember these small things that he had taken so completely for granted. The fragments crowded in on him at random. Driving aimlessly on a sunny day with the stereo blaring. Fucking a girl on the beach at night, both of you reckless, laughing… delirious. Sleeping in on a Sunday, slightly hungover and without a care in the world. Ice-cold beer. The clean smell of soap filling your nose in the shower, the scent of freshly-laundered clothes warm from the dryer. Greasy French fries from the local drive-in. Passing out on the couch with some crappy TV show droning on in the background… the onslaught made his head spin.
His next words were barely audible: 'The world I knew is gone forever.' Saying it out loud made it real.
Patch Francais Terminator Salvation Full
Blair sighed. 'You think you've gotten used to it, that you've come to terms with it… and then sometimes, even after all these years, you wake up in the morning and it hits you all over again.'
Marcus turned to her. 'How did you do it?' he asked wonderingly. 'How do you survive the end of the world?'
A sad smile twisted her mouth as she looked at him. 'One day at a time, Marcus,' she said. 'One day at a time.' They both looked out over the landscape. 'After Judgment Day,' she continued softly, 'There was nothing left… just, absolute chaos. Hell. Fire everywhere. We don't call it Judgment Day for nothing.'
He glanced at her sideways as she spoke, listening carefully.
'Those of us who survived hid underground, in shelters, in bunkers, wherever we could…in the most appalling conditions, making do with whatever we could get our hands on; hardly any food, no medicine. So many more people died during that time that we lost count. Starvation, illness… and of course the radiation poisoning.'
Marcus shuddered inwardly a little at the lack of emotion in her voice. She spoke detachedly, as if recounting a story she'd heard once, not the unimaginable personal hell she herself had endured and survived.
'Probably hundreds of thousands more died after the day itself. It went on forever. Months felt like years. Then, slowly, we began coming out, finding safer areas, avoiding the fallout. Reclaiming little bits of land. Starting to live again… But then the machines came.' She looked at him at this, and Marcus thought she smiled a little at his stricken expression. 'They came and they killed God-knows how many more. It was a massacre. We had no choice but to fight if we wanted to stay alive. And so, we fought. I don't know how we did it, but we began organizing, began forming groups and banding together to fight back. That was the beginning of the Resistance.'
She turned to him, squared her shoulders slightly. 'And here we are today,' she finished, her voice brightening now, as if suddenly remembering where she was. 'Here we are, standing here. And just for a little while, on a night like this,' she gestured out at the landscape, 'it's possible to remember what it was like before it all happened.' She shrugged and smiled at him – a real smile this time, small but radiant. It made Marcus wonder, again, at the almost insane resilience of human beings. How can you still smile after living through something like that?
'And that, is how you survive the end of the world,' the familiar flippant edge was back in Blair's voice. 'Answer your question?'
Marcus considered. 'I guess so.'
Silence stretched out.
Blair wrapped her arms around herself against the chill in the air.
'You're cold,' he pointed out quietly.
There was a moment of awkward silence as the same memory struck them both.
She chuckled softly. 'Seems familiar doesn't it?'
He ducked his head to hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but her reference to their night in the desert quickly sobered him. It brought him back to his clumsy, painful attempts to come clean, and how he wasn't nearly done when she'd interrupted him…
Marcus took a moment to gather his thoughts. 'Blair. D'you remember, that night… when I asked you about second chances?'
She nodded.
'I barely knew you. But after you dozed off, I sat there, thinking. And for some reason I was tempted to tell you everything then. I really was.' He glanced at her. 'I wanted to tell you the nightmare I woke up to, how hellish the last few days had been.' He swallowed. 'That… that the last thing I remembered was lying strapped to a table in a county prison, waiting to die.'
She glanced sharply at him and this time he forced himself to hold her gaze.
'I wanted to tell you that I had no idea where I was, or how I got there, or why I was even alive.' He sighed. All this truth was exhausting. 'I dunno why. But maybe I thought… I don't know, that you might understand.'
He nudged at a bit of debris at his feet. 'But now I know that that was stupid,' he continued heavily, 'I'd no right to think you'd understand. And I'd no right to ask you about second chances.' He swallowed again against a rising ache in his throat. 'Cause I knew full well I didn't deserve one.'
Marcus exhaled in a kind of bitter relief. He felt wrung out, but he also felt lighter. It felt good, in a strange way, to be saying all these things. Maybe, he thought, in a sudden flash of understanding, this is what confession is supposed to feel like.
He thought back momentarily to the padre, the old prison priest who insisted on coming to his cell every day for two weeks before the execution. He'd tried so hard to get Marcus to consider opening up, to at least accept his blessing. But Marcus had just sat looking at him stone-faced and silent, and every day the man went away with nothing accomplished. It was only on the last day that his presence had actually angered Marcus. He wanted to yell at the priest, wanted to physically shove him against a wall. Is that all it takes? He'd wanted to demand. A few little prayers and you believe I'll be forgiven? Fuck you and anyone simple-minded enough to believe in that kind of redemption.I don't need your fucking prayers. I know where I'm going. Instead he'd gritted his teeth and waited patiently, zoning out as the man intoned the words that were supposed to deliver him to salvation. 'Father, please,' he'd said finally, when he couldn't take it anymore. That was all he'd said.
There is no salvation.
After what seemed like an eternity, Blair gripped his arm. Her hold was surprisingly strong, almost painful. 'There is,' she said quietly, almost angrily. 'You just don't want to let yourself see it.'
Marcus looked at her, startled. He hadn't realized he'd spoken the last words aloud. He opened his mouth to speak, to argue, but she stopped him with a deadly look.
'Marcus. I know you'll never forgive yourself for the things you've done,' she began. 'But you can't change any of that now. It happened. And you just have to find a way to live with it, just like we all do; we all live with the past, whatever it is, no matter how bad.'
He tried again, his mouth opened but there were no words.
Ignoring him, Blair continued. 'But what you can control,' she told him fiercely, 'Is what happens from here on in. You can control your future. And maybe, just maybe if you do it right, one day the past will seem almost forgivable.'
Marcus clenched his jaw. She was echoing John Connor. If he hadn't known better he would have thought they'd planned this. An ambush. Operation Kill-him-with-Kindness.
But her words filled him with a sudden unbearable sadness that he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Tyler's death. 'How can you say that?' he asked softly. 'I killed people. I killed my own brother. I mean, he died because of me. That's not something you just forgive.'
To his surprise, Blair stepped closer, cupped his face gently in her hands. Marcus stood frozen as her thumb grazed lightly over his cheekbone. 'It's not,' she agreed. 'But I do anyway.'
At these words, he felt something that had been wadded up deep inside finally give way. As it sank in that Blair didn't hate him, that if anything, she was willing to stand by him more than ever, Marcus felt a wave of something building up in him… he found himself staring at Blair with a hundred questions in his eyes, and it wasn't till the feeling built up into a tidal wave and slammed into him that he realized what it was; immense and deep gratitude.
Gratitude was something he was becoming familiar with lately, though however grudgingly. He'd felt grateful to Connor earlier, sure. And lately, he'd found small things stirred up the unfamiliar, awkward emotion; hugs from Star, Kyle's quiet camaraderie, Kate's strange, silent solidarity… But this was different. Blair's inexplicable, dogged faith in him floored him. Maybe it was a little pathetic how grateful he felt, but he didn't care. Nobody had ever believed in him this way. And all his life he'd trained himself to believe that he didn't want it or need it from anybody. But this, Marcus realized, was what it felt like to have someone really care.
Blinking furiously, he stared over her shoulder into the darkness. He couldn't look at her because his eyes kept trying to fill up and he had to get a grip or he was going to cry. And there was no way he was going to cry. Not even in front of her.
'It's okay,' she told him, continuing to stroke his cheek.
She couldn't possibly know what was going through him. Or could she? Impulsively, he put his arms around her and pulled her close. It was the only way he could think of to express any fraction of what he was feeling. As Blair's arms encircled his neck in return, he hugged her as tight as he dared and pressed his face into the warm hollow between her shoulder and her neck, inhaling deeply. It felt so good to hold her that he squeezed his eyes shut in a kind of agonized longing. He hadn't even been aware of what he really felt for her, he realized, up until this moment, up until he risked losing her friendship and her trust…
Blair was lightly stroking his head, the way her fingers ran over his cropped hair suggesting it was something she'd wanted to do for a long time. 'I don't know why you're so surprised,' she said lightly, though her voice sounded just ever so slightly raw. 'Did you think I was going to condemn you just because I learned an ugly truth about you?'
Much as he didn't want to, Marcus pulled back just enough to look at her. 'I guess so,' he whispered. He shrugged. 'Wouldn't blame you.'
She smiled sadly. 'Marcus I knew the night I met you that you were carrying some great big burden around. I've seen enough to recognize a man carrying a lifetime of regret.'
He found himself touching her hair tentatively, smoothing it away from jaw, picking a stray lock from the zipper of her jacket at the base of her neck. 'I still think you're letting me off the hook too easy,' he countered softly.
'I'm not letting you off the hook at all,' she replied honestly, 'But that's because I'm not the one that has to. It's you that has to come to terms with what you did. But it's like I said. People deserve to be given a chance. I can't turn away from who you are now because of what you were then. I won't.'
His hands found their way to her face. 'Thank you,' he whispered earnestly, his voice heavy with gratitude.
And in that instant there it was, the moment that he knew he wanted to kiss her, and that, in the way she looked back at him, he knew she wanted it too. There was suddenly, he realized nothing he wanted more. He just wanted to lean in, close the gap of the few inches between them, and put his mouth to hers. If he could just do that, he decided, all of this would be worth it.
Terminator Salvation Game
Except that he couldn't.
As he stared at her and she back at him, it hit Marcus with terrible and complete clarity that if he kissed Blair now, he risked losing her all over again. If he kissed her, there was no going back. Because he didn't just want to stop at one kiss. He wanted to take her in his arms, pull her gently down onto the dusty, rubble-lined concrete platform and make love to her right there under the sky. And that was just something he could not do. He would not.
He remembered his words to Barnes. Nobody would hurt Blair, especially not him. And if they crossed this line, hurt was all that would come from it. One furtive night with Blair was not going to be enough, he realized now, but he knew without doubt that anything more was impossible.
Blair deserved so much better. Someone worthy of her, a decent, honest man who, like her, spent his days putting his life on the line fighting the machines, a man who would value and honor her. A man how actually knew how to love. Not a career criminal, a cop-killing death-row veteran who'd wasted his life chasing all the wrong goals, whose heart was so closed off to all feeling that he hadn't shed a tear even for his own brother.
But most of all, she deserved a real man, one who was fully, completely human. It was one thing for Marcus to live alongside them, to let most aspects of his life assume some semblance of normalcy in these utterly abnormal circumstances. But to presume that he could have a relationship with Blair? That he could pretend to be everything she needed and deserved… including an ordinary human male? No, that was just wrong.
She believed in him. She'd seen past everything else and somehow, some way, she'd decided there was good in him. It was time he started living up to her belief. Even if that meant doing the most painful thing he could think of right now, and stepping away from her.
As the seconds stretched out, the moment passed unfulfilled. Blair was watching him quietly as he silently battled with himself, and saw the urgent longing in his eyes change to pain. She must have guessed at his thoughts, because slowly, he saw his own pain reflected in her face.
'Marcus,' she began softly, but he cut her off.
'Shh,' he soothed. 'It's okay. Don't.'
She seemed to understand. For a moment, he thought she would turn away from him, that she might be angry, but she hugged him suddenly, impulsively, and Marcus rocked a little at the force with which she embraced him. Frozen for a second, he recovered and slowly wrapped his arms around her, trying not to let the sense of loss overwhelm him, telling himself to make the most of this moment, because this was as good as it was going.