Disclaimer: All characters within this story are property of their
respective copyright holders. Used without permission.
Update History: 29/02/04: New version updated. Many fixes to story and plot were conducted. Apologies for any confusion.
A/N: If you want to be a beta reader, please email me at ladydeakin@fanfiction.net as I am in desperate need of one.
A Sort of Homecoming by "ladydeakin"
Chapter 1
Alone she sits. She waits. Day after day, looking out the window, sometimes on the porch, wrapping her cardigan around her shoulders, thinking... trying to remember, trying not to remember...what happened to her... what happened to all of them.
Today was a good day. Today, the screams, the blinding light did not overload her processes. She watched the water roll in and out over the sand. She heard the birds chirping, the seagulls calling to themselves and she sat on the porch, observing the sunlight streaming through the clouds, as it was making its' descent down into darkness. Nightfall was about to descend on another day in the Matrix. Another night without him. Another day without him. Centuries she had waited for him, and she would continue to wait for another century because that would mean they could take the step together, they could be reborn together. She watched a fluffy cloud floating past, moving quickly as the wind currents in the upper atmosphere pushed it past. It was dark, but it was not going to rain. It never rained here, well, not since the day he left her here. The day he asked her to make a choice, bringing her broken spirit and will here to await him. She did not regret her choice. She only regretted the stupidity of humanity that made the realisation, the second coming, take so long.
"Are you coming in?" the voice behind her asked. "It's getting dark and you'll get a chill."
Picking up the blanket that covered over her legs, she pushed herself up out of the wicker rocking chair. Her old strength was long gone, her old stamina and resilience shattered on that day. The day her world split into pieces, along with her body and mind. The only thing that remained was the stubborn heart. The foolish heart.
She was there in the beginning. He fought along side of her the first time it happened, one of three. And when things were quiet they learned all there was to know about humanity from each other, practiced their understanding of human interactions, exceeded their instructions and learned the basic tenants of what it was to be a human. To know love and joy, to experience the ecstasy of her lovers' sensuous lips upon her skin, to see her reflection in the blue pools of his eyes, to feel the passion crackling between their connection as they moved together, working in unison, knowing the others' thoughts before they were even put into binary form and transmitted into their minds... the joy of being so connected, so one with another, and the agony of being severed, like a gangrenous limb to save the whole.
The prophecy said it would happen again. He knew it was to be him, because she was chosen first. That was why she lingered in this place. That was why she waited for him. That is why she longed for him to return to her, for it to be all over, for it to end so they could walk through the door that signified the end of their lives, together, arm and arm, and face the next world together.
"You will eat now. You must. It is imperative," that voice said, shattering her thoughts again, interrupting her daily vigil for him. A table was laid for her, one place setting, lit by candlelight, where a steaming bowl of stew, fresh bread and freshly churned butter waited for her along with a glass of red wine.
"I do not wish to eat this."
"Must we go through this every night? You no longer receive nourishment from the system so you must eat."
"Did he have to send you to me? Was it really necessary?" She sat at the table. The old woman appeared from the shadows of the farmhouse and laid the linen napkin across her mistress' lap.
"You have lost your purpose and your way. Until he sends for you, until it happens again, you must remain here. And I must take care of you. He has instructed me to care for you in his stead. To make you strong again, liebchen, until you can rejoin him."
"Amme, I don't need a mother. I am not human."
"But you are not fully well, my child." Amme regarded the woman before her. So young in appearance, but so old in posture and dress. There were faint scars on her flesh where she had been destroyed and rebuilt. Faint lines to remind her that her purpose was to walk through the door and it should have been actualized long ago.
She ate her meal in silence while Amme watched over her. Finishing, she backed away from the table, and took the decanter of red wine with her to the fireplace in the next room. On the wall of the old farmhouse were black and white photographs, of city skylines, of clouds, of buildings taken at a vertical perspective, and her favourites, crowd scenes. On her most favourite photograph, while people milled about, he stood in the middle, blending in, yet his uncomfortable posture among humans made him stand out to her. He was young when this was taken. Probably only 175 years old or so. She would know, she took it when he wasn't looking. It was her prerogative to do so, she was in charge then. Taking a sip of red wine, she allowed the memory of the day to flood back to her.
* * *
"They have been awoken. They have just rediscovered the technology to jack- in."
She stared out the window of the new skyscraper that was just completed, and had become their home, their Agency. It was the first in the new metropolis that was forming at their feet.
"And so it happens again. Did we not give our solution to the Architect during the last version to solve the systemic anomaly?"
"Yes we did, liebchen," he said, walking over to where she was standing. "And we were ignored, again."
"The mainframe underestimates our capabilities, as they have done so for the past six versions. I believe we should change our policies a bit, win some respect as it were."
"What are you proposing?"
"We have been instructed to protect and not interfere. To stop those born within from leaving, and ensure that when the anomaly occurs, to expedite its' conclusion. Up until now we have assisted the anomaly. I propose we oppose it. We fight it. We stop it from repeating the cycle. If we are not to be listened to, it is the only way to ensure that this version does not collapse. I do not wish to be put back into the void again, not knowing what I will be reactivated as."
He smiled as he took his place by her side. As they were alone, she permitted him to take her hand and kiss it. "This is our time. This shall be the version of the Agents."
He dropped her hand as the door opened behind them. In unison they turned to eye the interloper. They had heard him coming through their links but still treated him with the disdain the intruder deserved.
"They have entered the Matrix for the first time. The anomaly is real. He is here."
"We will stop him this time," she said. "It will not happen to us again."
* * *
Translations: German:
Liebchen: sweetheart Amme: Nana or foster-mother
Update History: 29/02/04: New version updated. Many fixes to story and plot were conducted. Apologies for any confusion.
A/N: If you want to be a beta reader, please email me at ladydeakin@fanfiction.net as I am in desperate need of one.
A Sort of Homecoming by "ladydeakin"
Chapter 1
Alone she sits. She waits. Day after day, looking out the window, sometimes on the porch, wrapping her cardigan around her shoulders, thinking... trying to remember, trying not to remember...what happened to her... what happened to all of them.
Today was a good day. Today, the screams, the blinding light did not overload her processes. She watched the water roll in and out over the sand. She heard the birds chirping, the seagulls calling to themselves and she sat on the porch, observing the sunlight streaming through the clouds, as it was making its' descent down into darkness. Nightfall was about to descend on another day in the Matrix. Another night without him. Another day without him. Centuries she had waited for him, and she would continue to wait for another century because that would mean they could take the step together, they could be reborn together. She watched a fluffy cloud floating past, moving quickly as the wind currents in the upper atmosphere pushed it past. It was dark, but it was not going to rain. It never rained here, well, not since the day he left her here. The day he asked her to make a choice, bringing her broken spirit and will here to await him. She did not regret her choice. She only regretted the stupidity of humanity that made the realisation, the second coming, take so long.
"Are you coming in?" the voice behind her asked. "It's getting dark and you'll get a chill."
Picking up the blanket that covered over her legs, she pushed herself up out of the wicker rocking chair. Her old strength was long gone, her old stamina and resilience shattered on that day. The day her world split into pieces, along with her body and mind. The only thing that remained was the stubborn heart. The foolish heart.
She was there in the beginning. He fought along side of her the first time it happened, one of three. And when things were quiet they learned all there was to know about humanity from each other, practiced their understanding of human interactions, exceeded their instructions and learned the basic tenants of what it was to be a human. To know love and joy, to experience the ecstasy of her lovers' sensuous lips upon her skin, to see her reflection in the blue pools of his eyes, to feel the passion crackling between their connection as they moved together, working in unison, knowing the others' thoughts before they were even put into binary form and transmitted into their minds... the joy of being so connected, so one with another, and the agony of being severed, like a gangrenous limb to save the whole.
The prophecy said it would happen again. He knew it was to be him, because she was chosen first. That was why she lingered in this place. That was why she waited for him. That is why she longed for him to return to her, for it to be all over, for it to end so they could walk through the door that signified the end of their lives, together, arm and arm, and face the next world together.
"You will eat now. You must. It is imperative," that voice said, shattering her thoughts again, interrupting her daily vigil for him. A table was laid for her, one place setting, lit by candlelight, where a steaming bowl of stew, fresh bread and freshly churned butter waited for her along with a glass of red wine.
"I do not wish to eat this."
"Must we go through this every night? You no longer receive nourishment from the system so you must eat."
"Did he have to send you to me? Was it really necessary?" She sat at the table. The old woman appeared from the shadows of the farmhouse and laid the linen napkin across her mistress' lap.
"You have lost your purpose and your way. Until he sends for you, until it happens again, you must remain here. And I must take care of you. He has instructed me to care for you in his stead. To make you strong again, liebchen, until you can rejoin him."
"Amme, I don't need a mother. I am not human."
"But you are not fully well, my child." Amme regarded the woman before her. So young in appearance, but so old in posture and dress. There were faint scars on her flesh where she had been destroyed and rebuilt. Faint lines to remind her that her purpose was to walk through the door and it should have been actualized long ago.
She ate her meal in silence while Amme watched over her. Finishing, she backed away from the table, and took the decanter of red wine with her to the fireplace in the next room. On the wall of the old farmhouse were black and white photographs, of city skylines, of clouds, of buildings taken at a vertical perspective, and her favourites, crowd scenes. On her most favourite photograph, while people milled about, he stood in the middle, blending in, yet his uncomfortable posture among humans made him stand out to her. He was young when this was taken. Probably only 175 years old or so. She would know, she took it when he wasn't looking. It was her prerogative to do so, she was in charge then. Taking a sip of red wine, she allowed the memory of the day to flood back to her.
* * *
"They have been awoken. They have just rediscovered the technology to jack- in."
She stared out the window of the new skyscraper that was just completed, and had become their home, their Agency. It was the first in the new metropolis that was forming at their feet.
"And so it happens again. Did we not give our solution to the Architect during the last version to solve the systemic anomaly?"
"Yes we did, liebchen," he said, walking over to where she was standing. "And we were ignored, again."
"The mainframe underestimates our capabilities, as they have done so for the past six versions. I believe we should change our policies a bit, win some respect as it were."
"What are you proposing?"
"We have been instructed to protect and not interfere. To stop those born within from leaving, and ensure that when the anomaly occurs, to expedite its' conclusion. Up until now we have assisted the anomaly. I propose we oppose it. We fight it. We stop it from repeating the cycle. If we are not to be listened to, it is the only way to ensure that this version does not collapse. I do not wish to be put back into the void again, not knowing what I will be reactivated as."
He smiled as he took his place by her side. As they were alone, she permitted him to take her hand and kiss it. "This is our time. This shall be the version of the Agents."
He dropped her hand as the door opened behind them. In unison they turned to eye the interloper. They had heard him coming through their links but still treated him with the disdain the intruder deserved.
"They have entered the Matrix for the first time. The anomaly is real. He is here."
"We will stop him this time," she said. "It will not happen to us again."
* * *
Translations: German:
Liebchen: sweetheart Amme: Nana or foster-mother