AN: This mini-story sort of came about while playing "The Matrix: Path of Neo." See, there's one training level where Neo trains with Trinity. That got me thinking about the parts of his training they don't show in the movie. Maybe he got to train with other members of the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar like in the video game. The idea kept bouncing around in my brain until this wandered out. Again, like all my other stories about Pixie, this was just written to pass the time and to get an idea out of my head. As for where it fits into Pixie's story, it happens sometime during "In the Fairy's Ring" but after Neo's freed from the Matrix….except the last part. That takes places after "In the Fairy's Ring." As before, I'm open to any and all constructive criticism! I want to hear what you're thinking…good, bad, or indifferent!

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.

"You're sorta stuck where you are
But, in your dreams you can buy expensive cars,
or live on Mars and have it your way…" (From "Bad Days" by The Flaming Lips)

Pixie, halfway through what was proving to be one of the longest days in recent memory, had come to the conclusion what she wanted to do was run through some kind of complicated, puzzle ridden maze until she felt better. Using her head--using her brain more appropriately --was one of the few ways Pixie knew to de-stress, so to speak. Most people her age, nineteen years of age, found thinking to be stressful but Pixie enjoyed it. It was one of the few hobbies she had during her days on the floating tin can that was the Nebuchadnezzar. If she wasn't working, Pixie spent much of her free time studying, as silly as that sounded because she was a Pod Born, or thinking about things that had little to do with her current job.

Every so often there were puzzles thrown in but those made her think so Pixie wasn't sure if that counted as a different activity or not. She liked to, sometimes, think it was a different activity just so she had one more thing to do while she wasn't working.

She figured she needed a good run through a program that involved more puzzles than actual martial arts or weapons practice, after the sort of day she'd been having.

It wasn't a bad day-- She'd had worse days than the one she was having. Days that were so awful that she didn't like to think about them now. Hospital bed bound bad days in a previous life as a person she, some days, wanted to pretend didn't exist. --but it wasn't a banner day either. It wasn't the type of day she'd call home and tell Rain or whoever was on the other end of the line about.

It might have been the type of day she talked to Wheeler about but his ship, the Shatterpoint, wasn't at the same broadcast depth as the Nebuchadnezzar. Pixie knew she'd have to wait a while to tell him about this day. She knew he'd not so much like to hear about it but Pixie had a funny feeling this story would interest him for other reasons.

The young woman's day started off just like any other day on the Nebuchadnezzar. She woke herself up, shoveled down what could creatively be called a meal-- All the while physically reminding herself not to think of mashed human brains since that was what the goop they ate reminded her of for some reason. She'd never actually seen mashed human brains but that was what her mind decided to equate the single celled protein with no matter how hard she tried to think otherwise. --and went on her merry way.

Pixie had always been good at doing what she was told to do, at least that was what her professors in the Academy had written on her evaluation sheets. Following orders to the letter was one of the few services she felt she was able to provide.

Though she was quite good with following orders to their letter, Pixie was entirely capable of free thinking, as was everyone else in Zion as opposed to those trapped in the Matrix. She wasn't the type to sit and blindly follow orders because that was what she was told to do, especially if said orders went against her own feelings or instincts. The young woman wouldn't do things she found morally objectionable as she couldn't bring herself to do such things. There were a few practices that doctors of Nordic extraction undertook that Pixie, herself, knew she'd never be able to do even if she was told. They were just too physically and morally disgusting that she couldn't bring herself to do them.

Sure it seemed to work against the fact she was so good at following orders given to her but according to a certain tall, dark skinned, bald captain she worked under, her ability to think for herself was paramount to her ability to follow the orders she was given. Since Pixie thought for herself, had her own ideas and thoughts in her head, she was able to follow only the orders that felt right and change the ones that felt wrong to more...agreeable...versions of said orders.

Pixie wasn't sure if that was true or not but she didn't say anything. Everyone was allowed to have their own thoughts. Everyone was allowed to make their own assumptions, whether they were right or wrong. She figured it was part of human nature to make such assumptions, despite the fact they were, often, unfairly made. It seemed engrained in the human mind to make snap decisions whether they wanted to or not.

Either way, there was a very small part of her was secretly pleased to earn such praise from her captain. Morpheus was one of the most famous-- and, probably, the most infamous, --captains in the fleet so him saying something like that was major since Pixie felt she was just, well, Pixie. She wasn't quite as skilled as the individuals she worked with so earning any kind of praise from her captain was a big deal to her, even if she celebrated it in secret.

Pixie's day was no different from any other day on the ship she called home; at least it started that way anyway. She'd been working in the bowels of the Nebuchadnezzar, her small and wiry frame made her more than able to fit into tight corners to do repair work there, when a call came up for her to report to the medical bay. Wiping her hands on an already filthy rag, counterproductive but the best she could do given the circumstances, the medic-in-training trotted off to see what new task she was being called to do.

Despite the fact a great deal of her time was spent doing repair work and wandering around the Matrix trying not to draw anyone's attention--something she was extremely good at for some very odd reason --, Pixie had trained to be an on-ship medical officer. Technically speaking, at the moment, her title was "medic-in-training".

She'd had all the proper programs for being an on-ship medic uploaded into her waiting brain but nothing could replace the practical, hands on training. The logic was not lost on Pixie who'd been more than a little nervous when it came to working with live patients. Downloads could only teach someone so much. People were a whole lot more unpredictable than the computer models made them seem.



What waited for her in the medical bay, however, was not something Pixie expected. A prime example as to why the practical was just as important as the uploaded lessons in her head.

The way the voice on the on-ship communicator-- Pixie was tempted to say it had been Morpheus who summoned her but she wasn't entirely sure. There was quite a bit of static on the line. --made it sound, there was some big injury for her to help tend to. Pixie had come running expecting to see the worst.

It wasn't the worst, what she was now seeing. Instead, what she saw before her was more a testament to human stupidity-- one thing that managed to exist in the programmed reality of the Matrix and the Real World, much to her disappointment --than anything else.

Pixie was one of three rookies-- Though she'd grown uncomfortable with the title now. The young woman and her two peers been on the craft for almost a year and they'd recently unplugged someone new. In Pixie's mind, he should be the rookie. Not that she'd saying anything, of course. --who'd been accepted on the Nebuchadnezzar. Standing before her was one of her fellow rookies in a rather sticky situation, literally speaking.

Hawk, a boy she'd thought she'd known from her Matrix days, had wound up covered in some sort of tacky, tar like substance. She hadn't a clue what the substance was nor where it came from. Pixie wracked her brain for what it could, possibly, be but found that she was coming up empty. The best she could come up with was some sort of sealant used between pipes or in cracks or something like that.

Whatever the mystery substance was, though, it had caused some sort of massive rash on the exposed parts of the young man's body. Since he hadn't been wear gloves-- Pixie suspected he probably should have been but he was ignoring that rule. --both his hands had swollen up to the point where he couldn't bend or flex his fingers to treat himself. Not that Hawk knew how to treat himself but that wasn't the point.

Given the situation, it was up to Pixie to treat him. Dozer, the ship's medic and her mentor, was busy piloting the Nebuchadnezzar with Morpheus. He'd put in the call for Pixie to treat Hawk, stating that it was easy enough for her to do. Besides, he told her, it was high time she started working alone.

Though she was nervous, Pixie was more than willing to try working alone, especially if it was something not too life threatening. There was just one problem with the situation she was being put in.

She and Hawk had been friends once upon a time but their friendship had fizzled when they were still in the Academy together. In Pixie's mind, "fizzled" was too weak a word for what had happened to the situation that could have been deemed their "friendship".

"Violent Explosion" was more a better turn of phrase to use for what happened between her and Hawk. Hawk had threatened to leave Pixie in a billion broken pieces but her real friends-- People who worked on other ships --had put her back together. It was around that time she stopped calling Wheeler, Aisling, Adoh, and Ngaio "friends" instead of "allies." She'd learned from Hawk that friends, real friends, wouldn't run someone down as badly as he tried to that day.

Then there was the fight the pair had during their early days on the Nebuchadnezzar. What was supposed to be an honorable spar between two rookies had taken an ugly turn when a 

frustrated Hawk had used floorboards from the virtual dojo to try and knock Pixie out. It was from then on the two had been banned from sparring together.

This wasn't the Construct-- it wasn't a virtual training program. --though nor was it the cafeteria in the Academy. They were someplace in a tunnel and Pixie was the medic. Hawk could do little to her in his current condition, or so she figured.

Pixie had spent the better part of what she assumed was the day-- The young woman was still working on the whole timing thing when she didn't have a clock around to tell her the exact time. --on the Nebuchadnezzar trying to ease Hawk's itchy rashes and get the swelling to go down to a manageable level. She was just trying to get him comfortable so the medication she was giving him could get to work and she could go on her merry way.

More than once, Pixie had been tempted to just knock the boy out just to stop his running narrative about how the accident that left him covered in the tar like substance wasn't his fault. That was the only reason she wanted to finish up as quickly and efficiently as she could. It wasn't her place to decide who was at fault; it wasn't her place to judge. However, Hawk felt she needed to hear the story anyway.

Knocking Hawk out wasn't a viable option, medically speaking. As long as Hawk could talk she knew the swelling hadn't reached his exposed throat. If he could speak, then he could breathe and that was a very good thing. She'd just have to put up with the narrative so she could make sure he could breathe without hooking Hawk up to a monitor for that purpose.

With Hawk back in his bunk, an IV full of corticosteroids running into his left arm to counteract the swelling, Pixie went in search of a way to relax her mind. Alright, maybe a maze full of puzzles and traps and tricks wasn't exactly conductive to resting one's mind but, for Pixie, it was fun. It was the topic of much joking among her friends back in Zion, how Pixie used puzzles to relax her mind.

For some strange reason, Pixie, even in her Matrix days, had the uncanny ability to solve puzzles. Most puzzles anyway. Puzzles involving numbers and math held little enjoyment for Pixie. The solutions to those types of puzzles didn't come quite as easily to Pixie as to the solution of a puzzle using symbols or letters.

"Tank, can I…" Pixie started, tailing off once she saw what was going on in the ship's Core.

The room was quiet, which was normal unless there was a freeing or an emergency taking place, save for the muted tapping of computer keys on the part of Tank the Operator. There was a certain stillness about the room that made Pixie almost sorry she'd disturbed it. The young woman wasn't prone to being a noisy person so breaking the stillness and silence in the room was a bit of a big deal for her.

One look around the metallic space was enough to make Pixie realize just why the room was still and just why her query had died even before she'd gotten around to asking it. Strapped into one of the hanging chairs-- Chairs that, for some strange reason, always reminded Pixie of dentist's chairs. --was the newest member of their crew, Neo. Pixie couldn't tell, not from the entrance way of the Core anyway, what he was doing but she figured he was probably jacked into some training program.

Pixie knew the ship's training programs very, very well. Even after spending a year aboard the Nebuchadnezzar, she made frequent use of the programs. Though her formal training, if it could be called that, had been completed within days of her arrival on the craft, the young woman continued to use the programs in an effort to try and improve the skills she had.

The other individuals she worked with on a daily basis were rather famous in their field, so to speak. They were well known both in Zion and in the false reality that was the Matrix. Compared to them, Pixie knew she was small potatoes. She was no really big deal when it came to feats in the Matrix.

Still, that knowledge didn't stop Pixie from pushing herself. She wanted to make herself better, stronger, and faster so she could, at least, attempt to be on par with the others. Pixie didn't enjoy the idea of being the weak link in the chain, even in her own mind. She wanted to be able to pull her own weight, do her part, and never be the cause of anyone getting hurt. The Matrix was a dangerous place for people like them and she wanted to be able to protect not only herself but the people she worked with as well.

She'd been weak once before, been at the mercy of others and Pixie hadn't liked it. The young woman figured since she was able to push herself now, she should take every opportunity she could to work as hard as humanly possible. Make up for all those years when she'd been weak.

"Sorry I asked," Pixie murmured, wandering over to where Tank was sitting. "What's he doing?"

The Operator swiveled in his chair, regarding the young woman his older brother was training. Pixie was the quietest of the three rookies Morpheus had brought onto the ship the year before. She rarely spoke and, when she did, it was in an almost whisper. The fact she was so quiet and kept to herself could have been taken as her being snobby but Tank decided she was just shy. After all, she'd been shy when they freed her at fifteen so he assumed that didn't change all that much.

Pixie was mildly infamous on the Nebuchadnezzar but not for her actions within the Matrix like the others. Sure her freeing a few years ago her freeing had been a rather interesting event-- Tank couldn't remember anyone under the age of twenty-one nearly dying of heart failure as they were released from the Power Plant. --but, other than that, Pixie was known for just one thing.

Pixie was the only member of the resistance that anyone could think of that kept their hair as long as she did. The young woman was known for her waist length black-brown hair. Keeping her hair as long as she did was seen as a bit odd-- after all hair that long was hard to care for on a ship --but Pixie still wore it that way.

More often than not, Pixie kept her hair loose. There were a rare few times, though, when she wore it pulled back and away from her pale face. At the moment, it was in a long, whip-like braid that hung down the center of her back. The way she wore her hair whenever she was doing repair work around the ship.

"Video game training," Tank answered, around a small chuckle.

A laugh that Pixie echoed when she turned her attention towards screens that surrounded the Operator's console. Dressed in something that sharply reminded the Pod Born young woman of something out of any number of ninja movies that had been shown in the group home she lived in, Neo ran to and fro in a tunnel like world, trying to avoid being seen by white or red clad opposing ninjas.

The program-- Pixie wasn't sure who created it. It had been on the ship before her assignment and she'd trained with the program just as Neo was doing. --could have also 

been taken out of any video game from the Matrix. That was probably why is had the moniker it did.

It just always struck Pixie as funny because Tank had never played Matrix video games so, in theory, the name shouldn't have made him laugh. It did though and despite the fact he might have never played them Tank knew more Matrix popular culture than Pixie did and Pixie had come from the Matrix.

"Oh..." the medic-in-training sighed, a small hint of disappointment seeping into her voice.

Pixie was, generally, unreadable or, at the very least, figured she was hard to read. She kept to herself most of the time, trying not to bother anyone. It was a privacy issue since she'd grown up in a world without any privacy. Her life in the Matrix hadn't exactly been her own. It was a parade of hospital visits, where she was poked and prodded, and living in a group home with kids in her age group. Sure, they left her alone but it wasn't exactly privacy.

Though they, basically, lived on top of each other Pixie found that she had more privacy on the Nebuchadnezzar than she ever had in her entire life. It was something she was thankful for and something she valued. The young woman wasn't sure how much of said privacy was imagined but, still, she was grateful for it. She enjoyed being able to call even her small room her own space.

"You can go in with him, you know," Tank pointed out, noticing the small change in Pixie's voice.

Pixie gave the Operator a strange look, half shocked, half curious. She knew what Morpheus thought Neo was. He had to be something special otherwise they wouldn't have tried to free him at an older age. Pixie wasn't sure if she thought he was the One-- She was a creature of logic, at her roots --but she figured he had to be something amazing. After all, he'd not only survived his unplugging but learned so much in the few weeks he'd been awake.

"Are you sure it's alright? I don't want Morpheus getting angry or anything," Pixie rambled. "I mean, I know he wants Neo well trained and everything. I don't want to mess that up with him."

Putting her hands behind her back and messing with her hair and the back of her sack-like sweater, Pixie added, "That is, I don't want him getting hurt because of something I did in there. Besides, we all know that my preference is for puzzles and I don't want Neo getting all baffled and stuff because of them. Not that I'm saying he would have trouble with them but...I don't know. I mean there's no question he's intelligent and could probably handle the puzzles I like but….what if something went wrong. Besides, I don't know if puzzles are what Morpheus wants Neo trained for. It's not exactly common to come across them in the Matrix or, at least I haven't but, again, that's just me."

Tank gave the young woman a bit of a strange look-- There were times when he had to forcibly remind himself that Pixie was nineteen and not younger. --and pointed out, "Morpheus wants Neo prepared for anything the Matrix might throw at him. You never know what puzzles it might present him with. Besides, I think he hasn't had the chance to train with the resident mistress of puzzle solving."

A blush crossed Pixie's face, staining her cheeks a bright shade of pink. She looked away, eyes focusing on the tops of her boots instead of the Operator sitting before her. Pixie 

wasn't sure she was that good with puzzles. It was just something she happened to have a slight skill with. It wasn't anything special in her mind.

"Are you sure?" she repeated; just to be sure it was alright for her to enter the Construct while Neo was making use of one of the programs. "I don't want to mess up his training or anything."

"It's fine, Pix," Tank assured her. "Go get yourself loaded up."