#t-3000

Panic is the first thing he feels when he snaps back to consciousness. Chaotic, all-consuming panic that floods his mind and head, sending his instincts into overdrive. There's no pulse roaring in his ears, but a steadily increasing whirr, almost like a buzzing sound, inaudible except to him, takes its place, getting louder and louder as he becomes more and more confused. Eyes snapping open, his fear of what he doesn't know only spikes as he realizes he can't see, darkness surrounding him, suffocating and smothering. His body jerks, limbs uncoordinated, his skin feeling off...something has changed. 

Through the chaos in his mind, he feels a touch. It's light, barely there, ghosting over skin that doesn't feel normal, a ripple following in its wake before something realizes that that's not human. Small spikes of input suddenly register somewhere inside him and he arches into the stimulus, distinguishing that contact as good, safe. His limbs are still disjointed, something inside him struggling to calibrate coordinated movement, the whirring still loud in his ears as he works to get his body moving as one. 

The touch returns.

This time it's more deliberate, stroking over his forehead and back into his hair, pushing it back from his head. Yet again, impulses race from the contact into his head, prompting a positive response. 

All of a sudden, his body stills, mouth gaping open as he tries to force something out, anything, unsuccessful as he realizes his mouth and throat is too dry. Instantly,  a sensation fills his mouth and a liquid-esque film coats his tongue and trachea, lubricating the airways needed for speech. A small note is made somewhere of some vital function being completed, registering along with other inputs as regulated and continuously moderated. It's unnerving at first, knowing exactly what is and isn't functioning as it should be, unsure of what to make of the data until he suddenly becomes aware of the fact he can see.

Blinking moisture into his eyes, or what he thinks is moisture, he looks around, keeping his head still where it is, taking in his surroundings. All he can make out is a blank wall above him, artificial light illuminating it from some source a little way away, a shadow cast onto the wall beside him. He freezes as he sees this, eyes moving to look where the shadow should be coming from. 

"Hello John." A familiar, smooth voice greets him, emitting from a figure he can't quite make out. 

Unsuccessfully, he tries to speak. Who's John? 

Then it occurs to him.

That's him. He's John.

John Connor.

Or he used to be...vivid memories of something flooding his body, released from a surprisingly soft hand going through his head, the sensation still hot in his mind. It had felt odd, but it had been strangely euphoric, too, as if his body was filled with power and strength, becoming better. There had been a face close to his, one he had long admired…

"Stay in the present, John…" That voice...It's him, the one who had turned him, whispering to him now as the hand on his head continues to smooth back his hair, something in his physique rushing to create natural-feeling strands. 

Again, he tries to speak, groaning roughly now as he struggles to form the words in his mind. 

"Don't speak, John. There'll be plenty of time for that. Just let yourself rest; you don't rest enough." The voice is so soothing, so wonderfully reassuring as the fingers of the hand on his head push into his hair properly, carding locks through slender digits. 

Feeling returns to one arm and he suddenly knows how to lift it. Feebly, he attempts it, fingers clawed as he grasps at the air, reaching for something to hold, something to ground him. He doesn't have to wait long as a palm slips into his, grip tightening around his fist, squeezing ever so slightly to assure him of its presence. Again, something on his skin rushes to create human-feeling textures, the tactile information flooding his senses nearly euphoric to him, everything heightened and enhanced. 

A sound escapes him, something he's not managed in what feels like an age. It is indescribable, somewhere between a rasp and a moan of sorts, the calming sensations of the information gathering inside him amounting into audible energy output from his throat. 

"That's it, John, don't fight it, you know this is right. You know this is the best thing for you. I'm making you strong and beautiful, more so than before." The grip on his hand tightens, something making a noise beside him as his companion leans forward, bending over him. John can sense he's there, staring up into a face he knows very well, having traced the contours with his eyes many a time. 

"A...Alex…" John manages a coherent word, drawing out the end as his brain struggles to formulate his thoughts into speech.

A smile crosses the face above him, something warm flashing in the clear eyes staring down at him. 

"Shh, John. I need you to rest. You're doing so well…" The hand in his grip leaves and slides down his arm, ghosting over his shoulder to his collarbone, which he only now realizes is bare. A sigh manages to escape John as the fingers stroke over the bones and muscles of his upper chest, his back arching off the table into the touch, craving the positive stimulus. 

Alex chuckles and John wants to hear more of that, using his working hand to grasp at the being above him. He gives in, leaning down to press soft lips against John's forehead, trailing them down his face, whispering to him as pleasurable input begins to register somewhere deep inside him. He can barely concentrate as the kisses move to his neck, a nose brushing over his skin as the hand on his chest flattens and smooths down to his abdomen, stroking him carefully. 

"You're nearly there, John. I'm so proud of you...my brave soldier."

The praise spurs something to life within him and his other arm suddenly shoots up, hand grasping for his mentor. Sensitive fingers connect with fabric and latch on, pulling Alex in closer to him. 

Chuckling again, Alex pulls back, looking down at him with that same warmth in his eyes. 

"Rest now, John, or you will wear yourself out before you've even begun." Alex smiles, "I will be here when you awaken."