Disclaimer and A/N: I own nothing in this fic. All characters owned by the WB and Wachowski Bros. The plot of this fic was inspired by – er, modeled on – oh, fine, blatantly stolen from Terry Pratchett's Witches Abroad. What do you mean you haven't read it? Go and do so. At once. Oh alright, read this first and review, and then go and read Witches Abroad. While you're at it, read the rest of the series. Great writer, Pterry.
Faster. She had to go faster. She had to get there, to help him – he couldn't defeat them all alone. Why had he left her in the middle of the night to go off on a suicidal mission? To protect her. He hadn't wanted to endanger her. But she had missed his warmth and come looking for him. Link, true to his word to Neo, had hidden the truth from her as long as possible. She wasn't angry. She should have been, but she wasn't. There wasn't room for anger, only fear and the will to move…
Faster. She had totaled her bike several miles back. Why had had chosen a spot so damned far from the nearest exit? To stall her for as long as possible. He knew she'd come after him, and he didn't want her to. Couldn't stop her, but tried to slow her down. To keep her out of danger. Fuck danger. Fuck death, fuck life without him. If he was going off to get himself killed, she wasn't just going to sit back and let him.
Faster. Her feet were a blur now, she was going almost as fast as she had on the bike, and it wasn't fast enough. The bag on her back was hitting her painfully in the hip with every step she took, and her breath was coming in short, painful gasps, but she ran as fast as she could, pulling her phone from her hip.
"Where is he?"
"Just up ahead, turn right. Can't miss it, there's fucking hundreds of them. Are you sure… Oh, no!" The line went dead.
Shit.
She rounded the corner, the machine gun already free of the bag and up ready to shoot, but she was too late.
The two stood facing each other like in a Mexican standoff, turned slightly away to present less of a target, guns up. As she skidded to a stop, they fired.
And the world exploded into blinding green code.
Smith looked out at the multi-layered, silvery world. He looked down at himself, smoothing his immaculate suit. His infinite reflections echoed the movement.
The Oracle stood before him, no longer the harmless-looking old woman she had been, but revealed as a shining figure of power.
"Where am I?"
"Inside the mirror," she replied, and her voice was different from the gravelly smoker's drawl, now the strong clear alto it must have started out as.
He sneered at her, hating her. He turned, and a billion copies of himself turned with him. "How do I get out?"
She looked at him calmly. "Find the one that's real."
He looked around helplessly. A billion copies of himself, a billion copies of each of those copies, on and on into infinity.
He began to run through the mirrors, searching.
Trinity opened her eyes with a gasp, back on the ship. Link looked at her, his face set to 'shocked'. "Are you okay, girl?"
She scrambled out of the chair, with a quick glance at the monitors over Neo's prone form proving he was still alive.
"What happened?" she gasped, stumbling over to Link in the operator's chair.
"I have no clue," he said helplessly. "They both fired, and then everything just stopped. They're just standing there, frozen. People are walking through them – yes, through them, not around them, like they're not even there."
"How did I get out?" asked Trinity, intent on the code.
"Don't know that either. You disappeared at the exact same instant, and I had to pull you out."
"Shit."
Neo looked out at the multi-layered, silvery world. He looked down at himself, twitching his jacket into place. His infinite reflections echoed the movement.
The Oracle stood before him, no longer the harmless-looking old woman she had been, but revealed as a shining figure of power.
"Where am I?"
"Inside the mirror," she replied, and her voice was different from the gravelly smoker's drawl, now the strong clear alto it must have started out as.
He looked at her, and loved her suddenly. He turned, and a billion copies of himself turned with him. "How do I get out?"
She looked at him calmly. "Find the one that's real."
He looked around. A billion copies of himself, a billion copies of each of those copies, on and on into infinity.
"Is this a trick question?"
"No."
He thought of home, of the cold lonely ship and warm embrace of the woman he loved. He looked down at himself.
"This one."
Trinity gasped with relief as he opened his eyes. For a moment, he just stared blankly at her, but then his face softened. "Trin," he whispered. She smiled wetly, tears dripping onto his face, unable to speak. "Trin, I understand now. It isn't black and white. There's so much… so many different paths. So many choices. But only one reality. Only one route. I get it… I can do this. I know what to do."
A/N and review whoring: Terry Pratchett for President! Review.