I exhaled softly as I opened my eyes, unsure if I was truly alright; my eyes strained as though the oncoming headlights of the garbage truck were still glaring at me. I knew that that had been close and I wasn't sure if I had made it back until Morpheus' calm voice broke the silence, confirming that I was home in the Real.
"You're safe, Trinity," he said as he pulled the data jack from my head, allowing me to sit up while his sinewy hand ran comfortingly down my back.
I nodded in response. These last few trips into the Matrix had been much more dangerous and high stakes and I knew I was lucky to get out alive. The danger didn't surprise me; each trip had been more dangerous than the last with either a police raid, Agents or, like this most recent incident, both.
"How was the line traced?" I asked him, shrugging his hand away.
"Some questions do not have answers," came the reply. "A question that I hope has an answer, however; is why my first officer had taken yet another shift after being ordered to get some rest."
My jaw tightened, but I maintained my composure. It was true; I had been ordered to get rest. Probably much needed rest, but that was besides the point. Morpheus believed that our target was the One and, although there had been others before him, something was different this time; Morpheus had become so enraptured by him that he almost had me convinced, but not fully. I had taken it upon myself to keep a watchful eye over his every move, choosing night duty over sleep. If we wanted things done right, I had better take over regardless of the consequences – so here I was, yet again, caught in the act.
Thomas A. Anderson. A lowly desk jockey who, day after day, did enough work to stay out of trouble but not too much as to avoid attention. At night, he became Neo, an expert hacker who, over countless takeout boxes of noodles, spent hours searching for answers. His skills and dedication were remarkable and ideal for any target of the Resistance, but he was old. Too old. He's in his thirties, for God's sake. Our previous targets had been at least half his age and yet Morpheus was convinced that this man was our future Saviour.
With all that said, I'll never know what compels Morpheus to continue with this mission. Sure, the man is talented at what he does, but what good is talent if he's dead, as Cypher has so eloquently put. Despite this, I still took the graveyard shift from the crew. They would not question me, either too tired to protest or too understanding of my position on the ship. They would leave, and I would take my usual position in the operator's chair, knees drawn up with my chin resting in my hands.
And like that, I would watch, sleeping three short hours between shifts. I wouldn't admit that I was overworked and tired; this mission was complicated and needed to be executed with expert precision, even if all Neo did was get noodles from the same goddamn place every night, dropping his ill-fitting suit jacket on the already messy floor while throwing his tie in the opposite direction. By now, I knew his routine: work clothes off, pyjamas on, feet up on the desk while running searches all while shovelling his takeout into his mouth.
I often found myself wondering what if would be like to meet him. The silence of night amplifying the ship's low hum, the soundtrack to my thoughts. I would watch with my own strained eyes as his strained back.
Those eyes. Those big, brown, eyes. They were a soft and inviting shade of cocoa. The passion and intrigue behind them was mesmerizing and I had trouble tearing myself away from the code that represented them.
It worried me, how fascinating I found this man. I knew that we would kill him; there was absolutely no way that he would survive, especially not after tonight's incident. And even we did manage to unplug him, if he survived the impossible, I would be his ultimate demise. There was no winning.
I looked back to Morpheus. He had unplugged me twelve years ago and our relationship had developed accordingly. He wasn't just my captain – he was a father, and he had just caught me sneaking out. Concern seemed to ooze from his stature, but it was mixed with something else. I knew him too well.
Concern, disappointment, and...pride?
Before I had a chance to reply, Tank came to my rescue, allowing a wave of relief to wash over me.
"Choi called. The meeting is a go."
My eye's met Morpheus' once again. The concern hadn't left them, but we both knew that this wasn't the time to discuss my disobedience and the danger at hand, as I had proven time and time again, it was nothing I couldn't handle.
I laid back in the worn, dental-like chair, awaiting the familiar scrap of metal on metal, but it didn't come. Instead, a warm hand gently squeezed my forearm.
"Please be careful, Trinity," was the last thing I heard before reopening my eyes in the Construct.
"So what does the femme fatale wear to seduce a man?" Tank asked.
I scowled. I wasn't planning on seducing anyone. Not that I hadn't before, but I knew better now and had burned the reason to memory. Now, I subscribed to the idea that seducing a potential target was manipulative and conniving; they have to choose their path by their own will. I had learned that the hard way with Cypher, whose unnerving gaze followed my every move since they day we unplugged him.
His constant flirting was irritating. The jokes and comments were one thing, but the touching was another. He never crossed the line, knowing that I could easily have him transferred from the Neb. Cypher was vile, but I would not react, knowing that a reaction was what he was hoping for.
Cypher wanted to get under my skin, figuratively and literally; far too often he would brush past me as he made his way to the mess hall, upper arm positioned to graze my breast. I could almost feel him shiver at the contact. He'd saunter away and I could swear I could feel the smug grin on that bastard's face. It was harassment, I knew, but I knew I had little argument. It was a case of "he said, she said," and he was far too good at making his physical advances seem like accidents.
He was my first target and I had something to prove. Morpheus had been skeptical, but he had trusted me and I could not fail him. When we had first met, I had flirted shamelessly, almost desperately so that he would say yes. But I knew he would. Cypher's detective services had been employed by agents to find me, and when I watched from the safety of the ship, it was clear that he no longer cared about the money. He wanted out.
Our meeting had been arranged in an old bookstore and I had found him in the far back corner of the shop, in the erotic fiction section. I had wrapped my arms around his neck, as if we were playing a mysterious, sex-laced role-playing game; a man and a woman, searching for excitement in the unknown. In a way, I guess we both were: he searched for the truth while I searched for validation. I had whispered in his ear, arms still wrapped around him. After the message had been delivered, I made sure to emphasize the sway in my hips, feeling his gaze sear into me. His eyes followed me out of the bookstore well before his mind and body did.
Cypher had taken the red pill without question, barely letting Morpheus finish his speech. Once he was freed, I made it my personal duty to train him myself, pushing him beyond his limits. He tried his best to meet my demands, hoping to meet my expectations. Cypher had persisted, despite being battered and blue. He retried the jump program eight times in one session. He sought my approval – no, he wanted the attention I had given him in the bookstore, but I denied him.
Even when he had become a testament of my skill and ability, I never gave him the reward that he had worked so hard for. He continued to persist, promising me that one day I would break, telling me that one day he would find me on my knees outside his door, begging for him to take me. That was the night that Cypher received his first real black eye.
I have since learned that my pride was, and still is, my greatest hindrance.
I took a deep breath of the false air in the Construct. Somehow, despite my past and my better judgement, I still wanted, needed Neo to say yes. My old rule crumbled away as if I had had no reason behind its inception. I wanted his warm, brown eyes to linger on my body. I wanted him to hang onto my every word, begging to hear and see more. It could be Neo's arm that would brush against my chest in the narrow halls of the ship – better yet, it would be his hands, his lips...
When I did sleep, I dreamt of him, and in my dreams I would push myself against him, pinning him to the wall, my mouth devouring his. I'd be aggressive, yet submissive, allowing his hands to roam, inviting the skin on skin contact. Neo would then guide me to our room, barely breaking our connection. He would lead me inside and slam the door behind us, pulling my shirt over my head and throwing it to the floor. I would gasp as he pinned my against the cold, metal door as his lips dragged along my neck. He would cup my breasts in his hands.
"You think you can handle me?" I would challenge. He wouldn't say anything in response. Instead, his hands would knead the skin below as he smirked at the moan that would escape my lips. He'd whisper in my ear, making sure I knew that I was his. In a flurry of clothing, we would find our way to the bed. In my dreams, he knew how, where, and when to touch me, ordering me moan his name.
Neo.
I would wake up gasping, alone in my small cabin. This needed to stop, but I didn't want it to. I couldn't help myself but then the memories of my trip to the Oracle would come rushing back. Neo was going to die regardless of what choice I made. He would find out what a mess he made of me and he would be gone. My mind would flip between desire and fear.
There was something about him and I wanted, no, I needed to find out what it was.
I tried to ignore this desire, pushing it to the far corners of my mind. Try as I may, my fantasies could not be ignored. I tried everything in my power to convince myself that my motivation was purely the need to follow the orders of my Captain, to aide him in freeing the One, but my dreams told me otherwise. I was tainted with love, lust, and intrigue, whether I liked it or not.
"Trinity? You still there?" Tank asked, bringing me back to the present.
"Yeah," I replied, masking my emotions.
I had made my decision.
"Something eye-catching."
Leaving my leather motorcycle jacket with the scantily-clad coat check girl, I sauntered into the club. I was pleased with what Tank had given me to wear. I wasn't used to wearing dresses, but Tank had insisted on the short, leather dress; the familiarity of the leather eased my discomfort while the style excited me. The dress clung to me in all the right ways, in all the right places and I could feel the eyes of every man and woman as I walked by. I shivered, not yet used to how much the dress exposed; where black leather ended, pale shoulders began, hinting at onlookers to what was underneath.
I spotted Choi lounging in the corner, he arm wrapped tightly around DuJour. We exchanged nods and he gestured towards the back with his cigarette. I continued on my way, weaving between the club patrons, until I found an empty spot against a wall from where I could scan the room, taking in the scene.
The club was housed in a warehouse. It was dark, only illuminated by green laser lights. The music pulsed, systematically, while the bondage-clad dancers lost themselves in the beat; the club was an embodiment of the Matrix. I continued to scan the room, searching for the figure of the man I had religiously watched for weeks. A figure with his back turned caught my eye on my second sweep.
Neo.
He stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd, dressed far too casually in a dark brown sweater, forest green shirt peaking out from underneath. His was wearing loose-fitting black sweatpants. This outfit was all too familiar; he was wearing the same outfit he usually did when he got home from work.
He's still in his pyjamas.
I clenched my jaw only to keep it from dropping. Unbelievable. Morpheus thought this man was the One. I had dreamt about him in ways he would never know. I had risked my life not an hour earlier to contact him and yet he couldn't even dress himself when he went out in public. Somehow, this added to my intrigue and I couldn't help but smile. Even being in the same room, he was still unaware that I was watching.
He ran his hand through a mess of dark brown, almost black hair. He slouched against the wall waiting for something, someone, crossing his arms. His body language betrayed him; Neo was tired of waiting, but was he tired of waiting for me or was he tired of waiting for answers? His shoulders drooped in fatigue as he rested his head against the wall.
Poor Neo. He had to get up early for work and it was late. He wasn't a morning person and he was on the verge of losing his job if he kept showing up late and yet, he was here.
He turned his head, looking towards the door, and I saw his profile for the first time. No longer was this man in code; he was real, as real as this world would allow. Those soft, brown eyes I had seen in green code were real. They were warm yet withdrawn, revealing his inner turmoil. They were hopeful but, for what, I doubt he truly knew.
He's adorable.
I was moving towards him, no longer in control of my actions. I needed to talk to him. Now.
"Hello, Neo."
He turned around, completely taken aback. Brown met blue and in that moment, I nearly forgot what I had planned to say.
"How do you know that name?"
"I know a lot about you."
He paused, perhaps unsure of how to continue the conversation.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Trinity."
His eyes grew wide as he looked away, the gears inside his head seemed to spin a million miles a second. He mumbled something to himself...was that my name that came from his lips? He repeated it with recognition.
"The Trinity? That cracked the IRS D-base?"
I felt a smile play at my lips.
"That was a long time ago."
"Jesus." He looked away again.
"What?" I asked, but I knew what was coming.
"I just thought, um, that you were a guy."
"Most guys do."
I don't know why I was acting this way. I wasn't new to this conversation and each time I would respond coldly, almost offended. But not this time. Maybe I am flirting with him and if I was, I most definitely was, he was responding accordingly. I pretended not to notice his gaze moving from my eyes, following the curve of my neck, down to my exposed shoulders, to my collarbone and back up again.
Realization seemed to wash over him.
"That was you on my computer...how did you do that?"
I took a step towards him and he uncrossed his arms as if he was welcoming the movement.
"Right now, all I can tell you is that you're in danger. I brought you here to warn you."
Shock. He was so easy to read in here and on the screens.
"Of what?"
"They're watching you, Neo."
"Who is?"
He was so naive. I don't think he's spoken a single phrase that wasn't a question.
"Please, just listen." I took another desperate step towards him, closing the gap between us.
We were so close, mere inches apart. I could feel his body heat radiating towards me, his hot breath on my neck sending tingles down my spine as it cooled. I only found my voice when my lips where inches away from his skin. I spoke in a hushed tone, forcing him to listen carefully, forcing him to get closer.
"I know why you're here, Neo. I know what you've been doing. I know why you hardly sleep. Why you live alone and why night after night you sit at your computer. You're looking for him. I know because I was once looking for the same thing, and when he found me he told me I wasn't really looking for him. I was looking for an answer. It's the question that drives us, Neo. It's the question that brought you here."
I paused, too aware that our lips would collide if either of us tilted our heads a fraction of a degree. I wanted to savour this moment.
"You know the question, just as I did."
"What is the Matrix?"
"The answer is out there, Neo. It's looking for you, and it will find you – if you want it to."
I snuck one more glance at his bewildered eyes as I pulled away, disappearing into the crowd. It was almost too much, being so close to the man that kept me up at night. The man who, unbeknownst to him, had me under his spell. He was a distraction, a splinter in my mind and try as I might, I knew that the Oracle had been right: I was falling for him, hard. I hoped that he never know. I will not be responsible for his death; killing him would kill me, too.
But a part of me couldn't let him go. I felt it through and through. I needed him, even if only from afar. A glimmer of hope still remained, locked deep in my heart. Maybe he would...we would, beat the odds.