Author's Notes:

I went to see the movie Terminator Salvation and noticed the film was ambiguous about many things. Plots and ideas were introduced but never cultivated or elaborated on, there were huge holes in places, and by the end of the movie I was scratching my head wondering what the heck did I just watch?

Well one of my favorite parings is now Marcus Wright/Blair Williams. So naturally I decided to use some of the vagueness the film had and explore a possible "maybe" with the pair. Me personally, I felt like the two had so much potential, then Marcus had to be the good guy in the end and give up his heart to save Connor. They never did show Marcus dead, so this is me offering a possible explanation as to what happened next.

I am not sure how far this will go or how long it will be, but I felt the need to do those two some justice. There is not a lot of ficts about them, so I hope to rectify that a bit. I also wanted to explore the idea that Marcus does have (to a level) some humanity left in him; feelings, passions or hates, and that he would continue to try and prove that to his peers. Feel free to comment and review. I have not watched the other films, so those who want to help guide me in the right direction or correct me, go right a head. I enjoy enlightenment.

The story is told from both Blair's and Marcus' perspective and takes place at the tail end of Terminator Salvation and directly after.

Defeat felt inevitable. What would the resistance do without John Connor: the alleged messiah, the man that was supposed to be humanity's salvation?

It could have been some sick joke; Connor on his deathbed just after rescuing Kyle Reese and the other hundreds – maybe thousands – of people from the Skynet headquarters. This day should have been marked with celebration, emotions of joy and glee. Not remorse or despair that dulled the eyes of those standing just off to the side of John Connor's makeshift bed in a medical tent. What a cruel joke indeed.

Marcus looked on, his expressionless face revealing nothing to his peers around him. On the inside he was wrestling with an idea that held the potential to save the resistance leader's life: giving up his own beating heart to the other man in hopes that he would live on and salvage what was left of the human race. It would be his personal redemption and purpose, justifying why he lived.

Part of the hybrid wanted to cling to the hope that there was another way. His life was not completely worthless. There was the forming friendship with Kyle Reese and his partner, Star. Even more so, there was his relationship and growing affections towards one of the resistance fighters, Blair Williams.

Were they worth giving up?

There was also the flip-side to this dilemma. If he sacrificed his own life, and Connor lived to save them all, there was the slight possibility that the three – Blair, Kyle, and Star – would live on long after he did. Surely that was worth something, securing his friends' safety?

There isn't another way.

He tried thinking of at least one different alternative, but nothing came to mind.

Time was running out as they stood there. It had only been moments ago when Kate announced the ill news. Somehow to him it felt like hours ago. The rapid process at which his brain was filtering through his thoughts was to blame for the false sense of time.

Stepping forward, he addressed the doctor. "Kate—" He glanced down, looking at his chest once he gathered her attention. "—take mine."

"Marcus?" The questioning tone came from behind him.

Turning, he came face to face with Blair, who was sporting a less-than-enthusiastic expression. Her brow was furrowed, lips tugged down in a disproving frown.

"Everyone deserves a second chance" he explained, looking into her eyes in hopes of finding some sort of understanding. "This is mine."

She felt a sinking sensation in her chest. No – a mangling disintegration of her heart. Agony ripped through her like one of the many knifes and daggers she carried on her body. She could feel a lump growing in her throat and a bitter taste poisoning her mouth.

Blair comprehended Marcus' reasoning, but wished this wasn't the only solution. He had not explained much about himself to her on a personal level; she had managed to gather enough to know he presumably did something he was now regretting. Something he was seeking salvation for.

Events moved in a methodically rapid, mechanical way after that. Before she knew it her full lips were being plastered against his hard, unyielding ones. The bittersweet moment was much too short for her liking.

He pulled away and was then promptly laid on a bed beside John's were they were both then hooked up to IV's. The anesthesia was starting to cause both Marcus' and Connor's eyes to become heavy, drooping before completely lulling shut.

The first senses that came back to him were hearing and the ability to feel the temperature. Anesthetics that flowed through his body kept his eyes closed and a thick wave of drowsiness washed over him.

Hushed voices spun around his head, none of the words making sense. The only thing he knew for sure was that wherever he was, the climate was satisfactory. It wasn't until much later that he gained back the
strength to open his eyes.

Where was he? Was he not supposed to be dead? These questions began to plague his buzzing mind.

Lazily taking in the surroundings, Marcus came to realize that he was still in the medical tent. Shifting his neck to look to his left, he spotted John Connor lying next to him, just like when he was put under.

Perhaps the drugs were clouding his mind and better judgment. Even so, the man was confident that waking up alive was not part of the plan. He had every intention on finding his peace by willingly giving his life for the doomed resistance leader.

What the hell?

Struggling to sit up, Marcus propped himself up on his elbows, glancing around once more with a bewildered face. Confusion and anxiety kicked in, causing him to slump back down slightly in a stupor.

John's body was still there, and if his eyes were not playing tricks on him, the other man's chest was steadily rising and falling with breath.


Well, at least for the time being.

"Welcome back."

Kate was standing on the other side of his bed, a gentle smile gracing her once troubled face. Instead of a weary expression, the doctor's features were relaxed; tranquil he would even venture.

"We ended up not needing your heart," she explained before Marcus managed to open his now-dry mouth.

"What?" Were his ears playing tricks on him? Or did the woman before him just say her husband didn't require a heart donor?

Licking his lips, attempting to gain back a more steady voice then the squeak that just came out a moment ago, Marcus tried desperately to focus, the drowsiness still clinging to him at the corners of his mind, making it difficult to concentrate.

"Why? What happened?"

Kate looked over to her husband. She seemed lost in her own thoughts for some time. Moments ticked by. Marcus stared at her, she stared at John.

"We started the surgery," she began with a distant voice. "I was working on trying to prep him for when we transferred your heart. Once we were far enough along, I got a better look at where the damage was done. The metal beam missed his heart by roughly an inch and a half. It didn't even nick a major artery. The muscle tissue took the brunt of the attack."

She bit her biting lip, obviously trying to fight off overwhelming emotions. Apparently, the feelings were winning. One solitary tear slid from her eye down her cheek.

"We. . . I- I managed to save most of the cell tissue around the heart." Giving him a brief smile, she continued. "It's amazing what stitches and some skin graphs can do."

"Skin graphs? Where did you get the. . .?" He paused, not sure if the knowledge would be worth it. Did he really want to know the gruesome details? As long as John Connor was alive, did it matter?

"After watching your skin heal at such a rapid rate, an idea came to me. I tested some of the cells from your body—"

"Kate! We're moving out." One of the pilots had cut her off, thankfully. "Everything needed has been packed up. We're all waiting on you."

Packed up? Marcus shot her a disgruntled look.

"We are relocating our base," she informed, nodding towards the man still waiting at the entrance of the tent. "Help me get these two into some helicopters."