Summary: Neo and Trinity are resurrected because Zion needs a leader for a new generation.
Usual disclaimers: I don't own The Matrix or associated characters and I'm not making a profit.
Shouldn't this come with a Manual?
Trin's on the other side of the door and I'd give anything to be there supporting her. But I know this is better, waiting out here. Zion's relatively new antenatal unit is low-key, softly lit and low-tech. She'll have the full support of a midwife, but there are no c-sections, unless the baby is at risk. She has to go through this.
If I were there, Trin would be hiding how much pain she was in, determined not to let me help, not to show any perceived weakness and I'd end up being a nuisance and if anything went wrong... no, I'm not going there. So I talked her into letting Niobe be there too.
I remembered the awkwardness of knowing and not being about to speak about it. She'd seemed tired but was refusing to take it any easier or give herself a break. Typical Trin: how often do I have to remind her she's not fighting anymore?
I'd also noticed her eyes, how the whites seemed brighter, her skin seemed that little bit softer. I knew she was late too and I knew how much she'd hate me telling her. I'd get an earful for not understanding. But I do.
One morning she seemed more tired than usual. I'd finally got fed up of holding a metaphorical TNT-detonator and waiting for a good time to set it off.
I leaned back against the door, blocking her exit. "You're calling in sick."
"Am not." She stood defiantly in front of me, waiting for me to move out of the way.
"Are."
"Neo, I'm not having this childish argument." She wasn't even looking at me.
"If you won't cut yourself some slack, I'll do it for you."
"How?"
"Like this." I picked her up. A risky strategy because if Trin didn't want to be picked up, she didn't get picked up. But she yielded. I had to resist grinning. The Trinity everyone else knows will pull rank. But, on rare occasions, she'll let me support her. And on those exact same occasions, I'll fall in love with her again. Every time.
"But, we're due to..."
It wasn't much of a protest. She knew I'd have it covered. "Not today." I carried her to our sleeping quarters, laid her on the bed.
"We can't spend all day in bed..."
I raised an eyebrow. "Trin..." I'd run out of words. I'd expected a fight. Now I didn't know what to say. So I did it without words. Pushed up her tunic and opened her pants. Kissed her stomach.
"You know." I felt her stiffen.
I propped myself up alongside her. "I know."
Before I could react, she'd pushed herself up and me down on my back. Her glare burned, felt as if it were scorching my skin. "No tricks. You're beautiful. You're late. And you're tired. What else could it be?"
"Stress."
"From what? You have a bad day, you hold up the building programme by, what, a few hours? A moment's indecision means nothing. It used to mean..." I didn't have to spell it out. I knocked her elbow and caught her as she slipped against me.
After a few seconds I looked down at her. "Trin!" She looked as if she was on the brink of tears.
"I'm..."
"...scared?"
She nodded, still not trusting herself to look at me.
"I'm scared too."
"Yeah, but you're allowed to be."
I had to stop myself play-punching her in the stomach. "Because I'm not Ms Invincible. Because in around seven month's time there'll be a little pink bundle wailing, 'Wah, I want to go back. Who lumbered me with these parents!'" I knew I was grinning, couldn't help it. "And everyone's gonna be saying, 'Look, he's The One who impregnated Trinity and somehow lived.'"
She was crying with laughter.
And all I could do was hold her and hope for a daughter just like her.
I glance at my watch: seven hours already. But it's been longer than that. First babies are always late, I was told. Last night I risked some of Tank's homebrew, after all baby Trinity wasn't due for another seven days. This morning I woke up hungover in an empty bed. Cursed. Splashed water on my face before I could even look at her. Wan but defiant. I slunk out and got Niobe. Niobe told Trin she was doing great. The pair of them shut me out for another hour before coming down here.
I remembered the doubts, well, her doubts. I trusted fate or instinct or something between the both would tell me what to do. Once I came home and our quarters were quiet. I assumed Trin had got held up somewhere. I flicked the kitchen light on and almost cried out.
"Trin!"
She sat at the table with her head in her hands. "Neo." She didn't look up.
I drew up a chair next to her. "Trin, what's wrong?" I knew it sounded lame, but what else could I say?
She looked up. Her face was pale but still softened with maternity. "Baby," she held out her hands as if holding one. "What do I do with it?"
"Cuddle it. Feed it. Change its diapers. Play with it. Watch it grow up. Teach it what you know. They don't stay little forever. Take a long, deep breath and you'll be handing out dating tips and I'll be watching her break my heart. Because she will."
She shot me a look which told me that had there been anything within picking up distance that she could have picked up and thrown, I'd be nursing a sore head.
"What do you expect me to say?"
"I've never changed a diaper."
"This from the woman who docks ships, dodges Agents and delves into databases for the hell of it."
That look again.
"Why don't you go and help out at one of the orphanages?"
"I can't."
"Why not? You won't be on your own. Then you can get a diaper-changing certificate and a feeding certificate and a playing certificate..."
That look. "You don't understand."
"No, I don't." Confess first, find out what for later invariably worked with Trin. "Relax. Our baby won't know you're a complete incompetent." Though Trin and incompetent don't belong in the same sentence. "Chill. You're tired and fretting."
She giggled.
It was infectious.
She grabbed my hand and moved it to her swollen stomach. Then I felt it, a little flickering motion. I pulled my chair even closer so I could put both my arms around them both.
Niobe's standing in front of the door. It takes me several seconds to realise she shouldn't be there. I know I'm putting off looking at her face. But it's her trademark ear-to-ear grin.
"She's fine. Go and see."
"Is it...?"
"Go and see. You two make your own announcements." She beams again and leaves.
I knock gently then walk in before waiting for a reply. Of course, I go to Trin first. She's propped up on pillows, looking tired but OK. I kiss her, a deep lingering, connecting kiss. Then she nods towards the crib.