A/N: I saw Terminator Salvation the other day and got an idea for this little fanfic. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Yes, I own Terminator. I also own Microsoft and invented microwave popcorn. Oh yeah, and I built the Statue of Liberty.

Rating: PG

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family

Summary: "We've been fighting a long time. We are out numbered by machines. Humans have a strength that cannot be measured. This is John Connor. If you are listening to this, you are the resistance."--Kyle and John share a moment after one of John's messages.

Tender

"We've been fighting a long time. We are out numbered by machines, working around the clock, without quit. But humans have a strength that cannot be measured. This is John Connor. If you are listening to this, you are the resistance."

John paused, feeling the tingling sensation he always had when he knew someone was watching him. He turned slowly, tensed for anything, but relaxed when he saw that it was only Kyle Reese, leaning against the doorway of his quarters, watching him. John turned back, holding the radio up again.

"You are not alone. There are pockets of resistance fighters scattered across the country. We will stay strong. We will win this war. Be careful out there." After a moment of silence, John set down the transmitter. He remained seated, resting his arms on the table in front of him, running his hands over his head.

It was a shabby room, thrown together like much of the rest of the place. However he and Kate had a bed, and although it was not comfortable, it was better than the floor. A small dresser stood in the corner, half of its drawers missing, and the wood finish peeling all over it. The table he sat at now was in the middle of the room, with two chairs, one facing the door, the other facing away. He was in that second chair now, having wanted some privacy. The door did not shut all the way.

Kyle took a step into the room, hesitant. He had not had much contact with John Connor since that initial meeting at the Skynet Factory, and then afterwards when Connor had given him the coat with the red band. It had almost seemed as though Connor was avoiding him. This seemed strange to Kyle however, since he could think of nothing he had done to be avoided for.

"You do that every day?" he asked finally, trying to find a conversation starter.

"Every time I get the chance," John said, his voice raspy with exhaustion. He looked up finally, meeting Kyle's gaze. He glanced over his shoulder towards the door, as if expecting someone else to be there. "Where's the kid?"

Kyle looked confused for a moment before he realized who Connor was talking about. "Oh Star? I put her to bed a little while ago." It had been hard. Ever since they had gotten out of Skynet's grasp, she had not wanted him to leave her sight. She had clung to his hand tightly while he stroked her thick hair, humming softly a made up tune until she had finally fallen asleep.

"You . . . seem good for her. You take good care of her," John said, wondering if it would always be this awkward for him to speak to Kyle. His mother had told him that he and Reese would be best friends, yet it felt so strange speaking to his father who was at least 21 years younger than him.

"Yeah well, I'm all she's got," Kyle said, taking Connor's attempt at conversation as an invitation to continue with his side of it. He walked over to the chair across from Connor and sat down.

"What happened to her?" John asked, sincerely curious. The girl had, after all, practically blown up the Skynet factory herself, having recovered the fallen detonator.

Kyle shrugged. "I wish I knew," he said, and ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling deeply. "I found her one day in LA, hiding out in an abandoned building. She had been living there alone for a while from what I could tell. I just kinda, you know, took her under my wing."

"Nice of you," John observed, thinking he liked this kid . . . at least, more personally now that he was getting to know him. He looked at him silently for a moment, tilting his head and nodded to him after a pause. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

Kyle, who had shifted his gaze down to the table during the, to him awkward, silence, looked up abruptly, his green eyes trying a little too hard to appear ignorant. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light. He cleared his throat uncomfortably when that look came into Connor's eyes. He never understood that look. He caught it every now and then, when he would find his leader staring at him out of the corner of his eye. It was a tender sort of look, with a feeling Kyle did not really understand. It was as if Connor knew him, or had met him before. There was some sort of connection between him and Connor; Kyle could feel it sometimes too. But it made no sense, so he tried his best to ignore it.

"You know what I mean," John said, staring seriously into Kyle's eyes. He felt a slight pull at his heart as he watched the eyes fill with pain and then turn away. Ironic, he then thought. Since it's really his heart . . . Knowing sentimentality on his part would not get him anywhere, John tried to concentrate on comforting his father without breaking the mold of aloofness he had tried to maintain with the boy. There was too much at stake for Kyle to find out their real relationship.

"People die," Kyle said, attempting to shrug it off as he had with ever other death he had encountered. It cost too much to care sometimes. He knew if he let an inch he would collapse completely. It was hard, especially when seeing war-torn LA, to keep the tears and heartbreak at bay, but he had, for Star's sake. He had to be strong for her.

However here, in this room, with only John Connor there to see him, he was feeling himself breaking. The heart transplant had occurred only days before and the memory was still fresh in both of their minds. He pressed his lips together tightly and stared down at the table, his vision blurring as tears rose unbidden to his eyes. Sniffing lightly, he held them back resolutely.

John watched with a growing tenderness in his gaze. It was interesting, and strange, watching his father cry. He really was just a kid, a child, thrown into this hellish future without as much as an "if you please." Reaching across the short table, he grabbed a hold of Kyle's shoulder, gripping him firmly.

"Hey," he said gruffly, waiting until the boy's red eyes lifted to meet his determined ones. "He gave his life for us. It's okay to mourn him. But you have to remember that we must keep fighting. He gave us the chance to win. We can't let him down."

Kyle nodded, his jaw setting, his expression resolute. John pulled away, unable to help smiling slightly. It felt strange on his face, the smile. It was not used to being there. A different look came into Kyle's eyes then, a somewhat confused one.

"What?" John asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, wondering what was on his father's mind.

"It's just that . . . I heard some of your men talking. They said you defied your commander's orders to bomb the factory because you said I was the key to everything. That if I died so did the future. That everyone was dead without me." He stared hard at Connor, trying to read his suddenly impassive expression. "What did you mean by that?" he asked slowly. "I mean, I'm just Kyle Reese. I'm not you. I'm a nobody."

"You're more important than you think, Kyle," John said, standing and walking over to the door. He looked out, pondering how much he could tell Kyle without ruining the future . . . past . . . whichever it was. He knew the kid had to be curious after hearing that, but he did not know how to satisfy that curiosity without causing damage to the already very delicate timeline they were in.

"You've seen the future or something? Cuz where I'm sitting, I've pretty much done nothing . . . besides helping you get out of that factory but anyone would do that." Kyle watched Connor's back. There was something in his stance that depressed Kyle sometimes. There was a weight there, as there was on everyone in the resistance. But on Connor it seemed heavier for some reason. As though he thought the fate of mankind rested in his hands and in his hands alone.

John turned back, looking slightly amused. "I wish I could tell you, Kyle. But I can't." He walked over and stood beside Kyle's chair, crouching down so that he was closer to the boy's eye level. He reached over and clasped the kid's shoulder companionably. "Just know that I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. You're essential in my plan to save this world, Kyle Reese. Never forget that. You are incredibly important."

Kyle seemed to perk up some at that. A new light came into his eyes and his body sat up straighter in the chair, a new resolve coming over him. He glanced over at the radio. "If that's the case . . . can I do the next shout out?" he asked, looking suddenly eager. John looked amused again as he stood, walking over to the radio and picking it up.

"Now why would you want to do something little like this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the kid. "I assumed you'd want to take command of your own squadron of men, or something equally as big."

Kyle looked thoughtful, not seeming to catch the teasing undertone that lay somewhat deep beneath John's words. "It is big," he said finally, staring off into the distance, a contemplative calm taking over his expression. "You bring hope to people. Talking to them over the radio like you do. Reminding them that they're not alone. Hope is what gives us the strength to keep fighting. And you give us that. Every time. You give us hope." He looked up at John then, meeting his eyes directly. This time, John could not keep the tenderness from leaking into his gaze as he stared across at his young father. And strangely enough, Kyle did not question it this time.

Slowly Connor handed the radio over to Kyle, and the boy took it reverently. He fiddled with the stations, finding the right frequency. Then he held the transmitter up to his lips and spoke softly, yet with an intensity that sent a slight shiver up John's spine.

"We've been fighting a long time. We are out numbered by machines, working around the clock, without quit. But humans have a strength that cannot be measured.

"I don't know where you are or what your situation is, but we've got to hold on. We've got to stay alive in our heads and in our hearts. Even when things look hopeless remember: we've got John Connor on our side. He is our savior. He will lead us to victory. He is our hope. And if we hang on to that hope, we cannot be stopped." Kyle paused, looking up at John. A slight quirk brought his lips up into a tiny smile. John slowly smiled back, pride shining in his eyes.

"This is Kyle Reese. If you are listening to this, you are the resistance."