AN: Hey everyone! I sincerely apologize for the fact I haven't updated this story in quite some time. It was just that I was thrown into a situation that I had little control over. See, my sister decided to dump her five end of the semester term papers- All of them were between ten and twenty pages- on me in order to have more time for her to plan her twenty-first birthday party and go out with her friends. This was on top of the paper and two presentations I had to do for my classes. The funny thing was our mother saw nothing wrong with me having to do my sister's homework instead of my sister, actually, doing it herself. At least the semester's over now, so there are no papers hanging over my head. I'm going to try and get back to updating and everything again. I apologize again and thank everyone who's reading this for their patience. Please, let me know what you think of my little misadventure by leaving me a review! I greatly appreciate anything anyone has to say…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 in graduate school studying biology. All I own are my Pointe shoes.

"Hey butterfly open up your weary eyes, and realize it's a trip we're taking.
And the world will turn around again.
And your shattered heart is going to mend.
In the end…." (From "Shine" by Clay Aiken)

There were always two kinds of people in the universe, it seemed. There were those who always, no matter what the circumstances, did their jobs. Sick, injured, hurt, or any other condition, they were at their position doing whatever job they were supposed to do.

Then there were those who looked for any excuse not to work. If they could come up with an excuse- no matter how implausible the excuse might seem- to get out of working, they would. They were the types of people who owned medical dictionaries and lived by the idea that if a disease had more than four syllables you couldn't prove they didn't have it.

Wrapped in the blanked from her room, which was barely helping to stave off the chill she was feeling, Pixie sat at the Operator's console. It was an inhuman hour of the night and she'd already been excused from doing her normal shifts but Pixie had put up some resistance to being excused from doing work. Despite the fact she still wasn't feeling right, lingering guilt still wreaking havoc with her mind, she had opted to take her turn on watch.

Her stubborn instance that she could work, however, might not have been the brightest of Pixie's idea. Sitting in the Core, colder than she normally felt, it felt like the day was never, ever going to end. She had figured that if she focused on work, her mind and the guilt she was still feeling would leave her alone. The young woman just never banked on the fact that it might stretch an already long day out further.

Pixie sighed, her concentration wandering away from the task at hand. It was taking more than a small mental effort to keep her mind in one place. An extremely unusual occurrence for the medic-in-training who was noted for her ability to concentrate on a task.

This time though, her wandering attention seemed to be exactly what the situation called for. Near where her elbow should be- She was sitting in a ball on the chair, threadbare blanket wrapped around her entire body- a red light was flashing. It took Pixie a moment to realize what was going on. Someone was trying to get in contact with the ship she was stationed on.

She slipped the Operator's headset on, adjusting it so it fit properly on her head, and allowed the channel between the craft she was on and the one trying to get in contact with it to open. Given the time of night, Pixie was exactly sure who might try to get in contact with the ship she called home.

"Nebuchadnezzar here, Pixie speaking," she, softly, stated, identifying herself for the benefit of whoever was on the other end of the line.

She was working by rote, doing what she'd been told to do should another craft contact the one she worked on. Sometimes, she put her own personality into the greeting but, at the moment, she didn't really feel like it. It just seemed a whole lot easier to work by rote now. Allow parts of her brain to rest, so to speak, so she could get through her shift.

"Hold please," came the gravelly voice of an individual Pixie didn't recognize on the other end.

It wasn't the standard, acceptable response and that got Pixie interested. It drew her attention in and got her to start thinking. From the other end of the line, the medic-in-training heard a great deal of incoherent, from her point of hearing, mumbling and the banging of feet mixed with the rustling of clothing. She guessed that, maybe, the person on the other end of the line had to go or was allowing someone else access the line.

The sounds ended, though, just as quickly as they'd begun. Whatever was going on had played itself out on the other end of the line.

"Guess who?" asked a new voice.

This voice wasn't sand paper rough. Actually, it was tinged by a very slight Texan drawl. The drawl wasn't recognizable unless one knew it was there. This voice was a voice Pixie recognized so her ear was attuned to that particular accent. Though realization came slowly, her ear let her know who, exactly, she was talking to.

"Wheeler!" she quietly exclaimed, as realization set in, "How'd you know I'd be up?"

She punched a few buttons, hoping he was doing the same on his end. Sure enough, the screen off her right shoulder came up with an image of her friend. It seemed like an age since she'd last spoken to the scruffy blond young man, even longer since they'd actually seen each other face to face.

Though she was still feeling badly, Wheeler's voice brought a small smile to her face. For whatever reason, hearing him made her feel better. Pixie guessed that it had something to do with the fact she hadn't seen him face to face for some time. After all, the last time she was in Zion his ship- the Shatterpoint- was still out and about. Pixie had been able to spend some time hanging around with Aisling, Adoh, and Ngaio but Wheeler, much to her dismay, had been absent.

"One of the times we talked, you gave me your, as you called it, roundabout schedule. I was just hoping that Captain Morpheus stuck to that schedule. I guess he did," Wheeler answered, a small hint of pride in his voice because he'd gotten luck and caught Pixie keeping watch.

Pixie's smile widened just a fraction, feeling sheepish for forgetting that she'd told Wheeler when he'd most likely be able to contact her. Then, again, when she was around Wheeler, she tended to forget many things. She had no idea why that happened to her- why she'd forget things or, suddenly, find herself feeling very giddy or wearing a smile- so Pixie tried to understand it, rationalize it as best she could. It was still a work in progress, however, since she couldn't easily figure out the answer.

"I'm afraid, I'm not going to be very good company today," Pixie informed her friend, giving him fair warning before the conversation went on any further.

She knew that Wheeler was taking a chance talking to her now. If she remembered correctly, it was not Wheeler's turn to be on watch. His watches were usually just after hers ended. Sometimes they intersected- the start of his took place around the middle of hers- but today was not one of those days. For some reason, he'd gone out of his way to talk to her today.

"What happened? Did Hawk say something to you?" Wheeler questioned in rapid succession, sounding more than a little concerned concerned.

When it came to Pixie, Wheeler had an extremely protective streak, something like the streak he had back in the Matrix where his little brother Arthur was concerned. The young man really did wish he could be on the Nebuchadnezzar just to make sure Hawk- who Wheeler strongly disliked since that incident back in Zion's Academy- didn't do or say anything to Pixie that might be considered the least bit offensive.

Wheeler wasn't the type to, immediately, jump into a fight for any old reason but he did value those he held near and dear to him. Anyone that he considered a friend or a member of his family, really. If anyone dared to hurt, with actions or words, people that fell into those categories, well, Wheeler might be inclined to have words with them. If they didn't listen and kept doing whatever it was they were doing, then he might take other action. Still, he didn't spoil for fights or anything like that. He just didn't like the idea of someone hurting his friends, especially Pixie.

"No….it wasn't Hawk this time," Pixie answered with a shake of her head, "I, really, haven't seem much of him today."

"Then why so glum, Pix?" he wanted to know, seemingly trying to scrutinize her face through the barrier between them.

With a heavy sigh, Pixie gave her friend a shortened version of what had happened to her that day, from her conversation with a potential called Eurisko to the little incident that led to her to taking the life of a police officer. She mentioned the conversation that she'd had with Trinity but didn't go into any details about it. The details seemed like something that should stay on her own ship.

"I wasn't happy after the first time, either," Wheeler said, in a serious voice, "I spent the entire night talking to Luminari. I think she might have stayed in my room- sitting on the floor I think- the entire night just in case I woke up. I'm sorry, though, I know that this must be harder for you because of your medical training."

To Wheeler, his words sounded horribly clichéd and trite but he couldn't, at that exact moment, find words to use that sounded any better. What the young man wanted to do was hug Pixie. He couldn't explain why since he'd never hugged Pixie before but he wanted to. Still, that wasn't possible and words weren't cutting it either. Wheeler wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to do or what he could say to make it any better for Pixie and that made him feel worse about it.

He was her friend- and, since she used the word "friend" instead of "ally" he knew Pixie was being serious- and he could do nothing to help her feel better. At least, nothing he could think of at the moment, anyway.

"I feel bad because I believe I could have gotten away from this guy. I'm faster than that," she commented.

With a hollow sounding laugh, she added, "You're right. The whole medic thing is making it worse. I mean I signed up to protect people. I guess I kinda knew it was going to come down to this someday but…I don't know. I just figured that I had to protect life instead of taking it. I really could have gotten away."

Pixie saw the thoughtful expression on Wheeler's face. He was thinking about what he wanted to say next, maybe trying to find something he thought was better to say to her.

Suddenly, Wheeler's expression changed. It was almost like a light went on in his head. He'd come to some realization or figured something out.

"I know this sounds mean but you don't know that you would have gotten away from that cop. He was turning into an Agent and we both know stories about what Agents can do to people like us. If anything, don't you remember the story of what Agents did to Aisling and Adoh's father," Wheeler, carefully, admonished.

Giving her a gentle smile, so she knew he wasn't angry with her or anything like that, Wheeler continued, "I know you feel bad but think of all the people in Zion, people you actually know and who actually know the real you, that would have missed you if it had been you instead of that cop. Rain and Torrent would be out a daughter and Eli a big sister. Aisling and Ngaio would be missing the third member of their little trio. Adoh wouldn't have someone to make jokes with. Chian wouldn't have someone to treat like a wayward little sister and I...well...I'd be out you."

It was strange, towards the end of his pronouncement; Wheeler's seemed to have trouble speaking. He started talking slowly, tripping over his words. It was almost as if he was losing confidence in what he was saying.

Pixie was about to say something but Wheeler's words decided to replay themselves in her mind. She puzzled over them for a moment as if hearing them for the first time. He couldn't have said what she thought he'd said. She had to have heard him incorrectly.

"What do you mean, I'd be out you?" she questioned, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks even as she broached the question.

"Um...nothing," Wheeler stammered, trying to keep his cool even as his ears started to turn a pale shade of pink, "My point is you're very important to a lot of people. Losing you would have made a lot of people very unhappy."

"But, what if that guy was important to someone?" Pixie questioned, quickly thinking of a way to change the topic despite the fact she was blushing and it was chasing away the chill she'd been feeling.

"Luminari told me, when I asked her a question like that, that I should try not to think of those connections as real because the people were never physically meeting.

Because they were never meeting in the flesh, the connections weren't real. The only real connections made in the Matrix are the ones made between hackers and rebels since the rebels were real. I don't know why but it made sense to me," Wheeler answered, repeating by rote what the older female on his ship had told him.

Pixie was inclined to agree, only to make herself feel better. It was easier to think of herself and all those who made their homes in Zion as real because they could talk to each other and they were really talking to one another. They could hold hands, hug, and kiss and actually be doing so. In there, in the Matrix, bodies never actually touched one another. It was just an image. A very good image, with real implications, but an image nonetheless.

"It kind of makes sense," Pixie responded, "in a strange sot of way."

Wheeler shrugged and commented, "It made me feel better so I've been sticking by that theory."

"No, it really makes some kind of sense. It's easier, I guess, to think that way," Pixie added.

Before Wheeler could say anything more, the gravelly voice returned.

"Mace's coming, get going," said the gravelly voice, "Unless you don't want to go into the Matrix for the next few weeks."

"Look, Elan just let me on to talk to you. If Mace catches me, there'll be problems," Wheeler blurted, "He doesn't like us mucking around with his equipment, even though we all work on the ship together."

An unruly haired figure appeared over Wheeler's shoulder, giving Pixie a sly smile. Apparently that was Elan, the Operator on the Shatterpoint. She gave him a small smile in return, not wanting to seem rude.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to be code watching, not taking to you. I don't think Morpheus would be all that pleased to catch me," Pixie retorted, "We don't want anymore Agents finding Eurisko before we get him out of there."

"I hope you feel better, Pix. I don't want you miserable," Wheeler commented, speaking quickly now.

"I'm better now, I think. Thanks to your sage advice," Pixie retorted.

The two exchanged farewells and logged off, the screen returning to its display of green code. Pixie was, once again, left alone with the semi-silent ship and her thoughts. She could not explain why but talking to Wheeler had made her feel better. It had chased away many of the fears she had been feeling. Wheeler had always been a good listener, even when he was just a name on a screen back when they were younger. She felt like she could trust him, that he wouldn't have minded that she was a sickly kid with big glasses.

Things were slightly different now, considering the fact she was no longer sickly and glasses were not something she had to deal with. His comment about being out her still bothered him a bit as she was not quite sure what he had meant.

She had always considered him the closet of her friends, the one she could confide in and cry on, but she was not sure how he saw her. Maybe, if their conversation was any indication, he saw her in the same way. They were just close friends who helped each other.

Pixie's wandering mind went back to the screens around her, feeling strangely better now that she'd talked to Wheeler. Like any good friend- at least she figured it was like any good friend- would, he'd stepped up to the plate and helped her feel better.

Maybe it was best she'd survived, after all.