AN: Hiya everyone! I took a bit of a break for a while but I'm back with some more of Pixie's misadventures. You don't have to have read my other stories to know everything about this one. It's just another part of a larger story involving Pixie and her friends. Remember, I'm open to reviews…good, bad, or indifferent. Just let me know how I'm doing! I'm ready, and willing to read as much constructive criticism as needed to help make these misadventures a bit better.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the characters I made up and their Real World alter egos. I don't own The Matrix, The Animatrix, or any of that cool stuff. I'm broke and I just finished graduate school for my Master's Degree. All I own are my Pointe shoes.

"Once upon a time
Or so the story's told
Everyone lives happily
As the end unfolds

Forever sweet
And never ending

All I want is to know why
Life is not a lullaby…" (From "Lullaby" by Hypnogaja)

Pixie was only half listening to the eulogy the Councilman was giving. She was staring at the ground underneath her booted feet, her heart and her stomach someplace down around her feet at the moment. Dressed in black--- another dress with black sweater sleeves covering her shoulders that Rain had recently given her since she still couldn't wear pants and didn't own anything black other than her pants ---she sat and tried not to look too uncomfortable in her surroundings. Being uncomfortable had become the norm for her lately, with her panic attacks not getting any better. Then again, they weren't getting any worse so that had to be a good thing.

Her doctor, not Aisling much to Pixie's chagrin despite the fact Aisling was, well, Aisling, had told her that her panic attacks not getting worse was a good thing. It would take some time before she was fully cured, though Pixie knew one was never completely cured of panic attacks, but things not getting worse was a good sign. The doctor was more than a little confused by the fact Pixie refused any medication for her attacks but she wasn't bothering Pixie about it. It was, after all, the young woman's decision not to take anything for her attacks. She could suggest all she wanted but, in the end, it was up to Pixie and Pixie had elected not to take anything.

The only thing she was taking was a very, very mild painkiller for her back. Her doctor, nor any other doctor they brought in to look at her back, could tell how long she'd be bruised or how deep the bruising actually went. Her own body had to rid itself of the bruises and Pixie just had to live with that fact. The only reason she was taking a mild painkiller was that she found herself unable to sit up for long periods of time without her back bothering her. She'd taken one before going down to the funeral because she knew she'd have to sit up for a long while. Slouching or putting her elbows on her knees to hold her head up just seemed disrespectful.

Though she wasn't technically supposed to be working, due to her injuries and the fact she had yet to report for a psychological evaluation that was deemed necessary after all traumatic events, Pixie had snuck herself into Zion's Medical Center in order to check on Tank. It wasn't that she didn't trust Barriss--- She didn't much like Barriss nor did she much like Depa from the Shatterpoint crew but those were whole other stories. ---to take good care of the badly injured Operator. It was more that Pixie felt like she was partly responsible for Tank's care, being the interim Medic for the Nebuchadnezzar until someone told her otherwise.

That was partly why she wasn't entirely comfortable being at the funeral. Not that she was comfortable with funerals to begin with. The last one she's attended--- or thought she'd attended since she'd been only nine at the time and still in the Matrix ---was the one for her aunt and uncle. Her uncle's family didn't know her at all and had made a huge fuss at the affair. Her aunt, well, didn't have any family save one little girl who sat next to a tall, cold man from the state who glared at her every so often. Pixie didn't remember if she cried at her aunt and uncle's funeral. She'd been too scared; she though, of the man sitting next to her and of the prospect of what was going to happen to her next.

This funeral was different. It felt different to Pixie, if that made any sense. She wanted to cry--- Lots of people were crying and she knew she should have been crying too ---but the tears weren't coming, no matter how hard she tried. Instead, the bitter taste of failure had settled in her throat, choking her, making her feel sadder than she already felt.

The funeral was only supposed to be for Dozer, Switch, Apoc, and Mouse. Trinity had come by the Medical Center to give Pixie the specifics and, when Pixie had expressed veiled confusion about the large funeral, Trinity had explained to her that they were being considered heroes by the Council and given an "Official" funeral--- Something like a state's funeral in the Matrix ---instead of several private ones. The Council wanted to commemorate their bravery in life and in death as they brought the man who was supposed to the One to Zion. Cypher's body was being dealt with in a different manner, or so Trinity said. Pixie wasn't entirely sure what that meant but she didn't want to ask either. As long as he wasn't being treated like a hero, Pixie didn't care what happened to Cypher's corpse.

Cypher was, after all, the cause of the fifth coffin to be interred in the Gardens. Despite the best efforts both she and Barriss had put forth, Tank's infection was too severe. He'd gone into septic shock, even though they were giving him every antibiotic available in Zion, and he wound up going into sepsis which progressed into multiple organ dysfunction syndrome. Even with medical intervention, his body was just too weak to survive the inner battle that had been raging since Cypher's attack. He'd died on Pixie's watch, giving the medic the worst panic attack of her life and forcing her to be sent home to Wheeler and Rain's care.

She was still having nightmares about that day, about how helpless she'd been, but Pixie knew she had to come to the funeral. She was sitting in the front, at the end of a long row next to Trinity who kept peering over to her from time to time for some reason. Pixie didn't quite understand why but she wasn't trying to think too hard about that fact. Though her friends had come along--- Aisling and the others were keeping very close to her. Pixie appreciated that fact, even though she wasn't sure why. Usually, she knew, things like that would annoy her to no bitter end. ---they were sitting at the back of the crowd. The only who'd gotten special permission to sit towards the front with her was Wheeler and only because he refused to sit anywhere else.

Before, she might have been secretly embarrassed by Wheeler and his making a fuss over her. Now, though, she was glad that he was sitting quietly behind her. While she'd been weak because of injury, exhaustion, and panic, he'd been the stronger one. She'd been borrowing his strength to get through her panic attacks instead of using medicine. What they were going to do when they were separated was still up in the air. Neither one of them wanted to talk about that possibility at the moment.

There were other, bigger, things to get by first including funerals and Hawk's trial. The latter Pixie was dreading in the worst way. She knew she'd have to testify about the fight she and Hawk had without freaking out. Not one who liked speaking in front of others, Pixie knew it was going to be a real test of strength and nerves for her.

It was Wheeler who brought Pixie out of her silent, self-imposed reverie with a touch on the shoulder. The former pitcher was careful not to touch her should too hard, lest he touch one of her bruises. He still wanted to hurt Hawk, who was being kept in the stockade, every time he saw Pixie's bruises.

"I think your captain wants you, Pix," he whispered, pointing towards Morpheus.

"You're going to wait around, right?" Pixie asked, hating how that simple question made her sound like she was clingy.

Logically, Pixie knew it was the panic attacks talking. Having declared Wheeler her "safe" person--- one of the few people in Zion she trusted to be around while she was having a panic attack ---she stuck close to him in situations she knew might trigger a panic attack. Well, as often as was possible anyway. It was the main reason he was now living with her and why he'd sat in the front with her during the funeral. If she felt herself freaking out, every attack started with the same skin crawling sensation, she knew she had to just look at Wheeler and he'd help her out however he could.

Now she had to step into the middle of a crowd of people without her back-up. Crowds were something that set Pixie off in a big way. They made her feel trapped, closed in with no hope of escape. Morpheus was standing in the center of a large crowd--- Pixie could barely pick out the top of his head ---making Pixie's heart begin to race.

"I'll hang back here, Pix," Wheeler answered, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "While you do whatever it is you have to do."

Pixie nodded her head and, swallowing her panic, wandered over to where her captain was standing. It was a tight fit, even for someone as short and slight as she was, but the young woman managed to wend her way over to where Morpheus, along with Neo and Trinity much to her non-surprise, were standing. Standing with such illustrious company only served to make Pixie feel smaller. She reached behind her back, winding her fingers through the ends of her hair. It was a nervous gesture she'd had long before she'd started having panic attacks.

"There she is," Morpheus stated, going to put a hand on Pixie's shoulder but stopping the gesture halfway.

He still wasn't sure how badly bruised her shoulder was and he didn't want to cause the young woman further pain. Pixie was still a very young nineteen years old and the whole incident with Cypher and Hawk had hurt her as much as it did the rest of them. It was the kind of betrayal, Morpheus wagered, she'd read about during her Academy days but never thought she'd experience. The dark skinned captain only hoped that the incident didn't kill whatever innocence Pixie had managed to keep--- which was why everyone said she was a "young nineteen" years old. She was still very much an innocent natured individual, like a young girl. It didn't help she didn't really look her age either. ---and turn her hard and cold.

Hard and cold were necessary for survival as a member of the Resistance but, for Pixie who was quiet and kept to herself; it held the potential of turning her completely inward. She'd lock everyone out because she'd be afraid they'd betray her. Not a situation Morpheus wanted to see play out and not because she was his medic of choice. There was also the matter of a certain young man Pixie clearly trusted. The captain didn't want to watch the relationship she'd built with the young man from the Shatterpoint, Wheeler, fall victim to Cypher and Hawk's betrayal. There'd been enough causalities already.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Pixie asked, keeping her voice low out of respect for the bodies near her.

"I thought you would want to pay your respects to the families of our fallen comrades," Morpheus answered.

Pixie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her skin starting to crawl in an all too familiar sort of way. This was not something she was comfortable doing by any means. In truth, it was something Pixie was hoping she could avoid doing all together. Yes, she was well aware of the fact that it was rude not to pay respects to the families of the fallen at a funeral but Pixie just wasn't ready to face other people without her comfortable back up.

Besides, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Protocol said she was supposed to apologize but Pixie wasn't entirely sure what she was apologizing for. She hadn't done anything wrong, technically speaking. She did blame herself for Tank's death--- She had to have been able to do something more for him to save his life. What that something was, Pixie wasn't sure but there had to have been something. ---so maybe she was apologizing for that. For the others, she wasn't sure what to say or if she was supposed to say anything at all.

As she trailed behind Morpheus and the others, keeping one eye on where Wheeler was standing, Pixie wondered if she was going to have to say anything at all. Maybe Morpheus would do all the talking and she'd just have to stand there. After all, with the exception of Mouse, he'd known the others longer than she did.

"How are you holding up?" Trinity asked, stepping in stride with Pixie. "You're still walking, so that's a good thing."

"I'm alright, I guess," Pixie, quietly, answered. "This is a lot to take in. Being here makes it all seem that much more real. I'm not sure that makes any sense, though."

"No…it does," Trinity admitted as she started walking to catch up with Neo. "I'm surprised to see you over here without your bodyguard. I know he came with you."

Pixie shrugged, not really sure what to say. She wasn't ready to admit to having panic attacks to anyone since she wasn't sure what admitting that fact would do to her standing as part of the crew she worked for. Wheeler had come as her "good friend" and that was it. No one, apparently, took issue with him sitting close to the front since it had become common knowledge they were together in the more than friends sense of the word. Pixie was hoping no one had guessed that he was there because he was able to talk her out of a panic attack, should she have one.

Aside from Mouse's foster parents, who surprised Pixie by remembering who she was and how she and their foster son were friends when he was younger, Pixie found all she had to was offer her condolences. Morpheus and Trinity did most of the talking while she and Neo both stood by looking uncomfortable. Their reasons for looking uncomfortable were entirely different, off course--- Him being the supposed "One" and she being just uncomfortable in her own skin ---but the idea was the same. She'd politely offer her condolences and then stand quietly by until they moved on.

It wasn't until they ran into Tank and Dozer's family did Pixie find herself in trouble. Tank's little sister--- Pixie recalled her name being Zee but she'd never had the opportunity to talk to her in person until today. ---was angry, blaming Morpheus for killing her brothers. Not that Pixie couldn't blame her for her anger. Cypher, the man who had killed Dozer and critically injured Tank, was dead and the young woman needed someone to blame. The easiest person to blame was Morpheus since he was the captain of the ship. Pixie was, in a strange way, glad she hadn't rounded on her where Tank's death was concerned. Pixie was already feeling guilty enough about that one as it stood.

"I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am," Pixie said as she approached Dozer's wife.

Like Zee, Pixie had never met Dozer's wife Cas but she had heard of her. Dozer talked about his family in Zion quite often on the ship. If Pixie remembered correctly, he had two small children. She'd seen them--- a small boy and girl ---sitting with their mother when she came in. Where they were now, Pixie couldn't say. Maybe it was better they weren't around while people recited well worn platitudes to their mother. It was enough that they knew their father was a hero. Pixie was sure it wouldn't stop them from missing their father but it might give them some comfort.

Maybe, anyway. Pixie wasn't entirely sure since her own family memories were fleeting and the image her aunt had painted of her mother--- a young woman named Thora ---wasn't a good one. Maybe it would be different for Dozer's children.

"You're Pixie, aren't you?" the woman asked, catching Pixie off guard.

Pixie nodded and Cas almost smiled, stating, "Dozer…he talked about you quite often. He said he was amazed at how smart you were. I suppose you still are. He was very proud of you, you know? He said you were the best medic-in-training in the fleet because of how fast you learned."

"Your husband was a very good teacher, ma'am. The credit should be his, not mine," Pixie, quickly, pointed out. "He taught me a great deal and was very patient with me about everything we worked on."

"He also did once tell me you were overly modest," Cas countered. "I hope you're going to continue in his position on the Nebuchadnezzar."

"I'm going to have some very big shoes to fill then," Pixie said, trying to sound more confident than she looked. "Because I intend on going back to work once I'm medically cleared."

"I'm glad. I think Dozer would have liked that. Someone's going to have to look after Morpheus and the others," Cas told Pixie. "He'd be proud of you saying that."

Pixie gave the woman a small, sad smile, wondering if it was insanity that was driving her to go back to her old job or because she felt it was necessary. It took less than a second for Pixie to decided it was the latter. Hurt or not, the Nebuchadnezzar still needed a medic and, until told otherwise, that position was hers. She just hoped that "otherwise" never came.