"Fucking gorgeous," said Switch. "Or will be, with more hair."
"Who?" Trinity filled a mug with water, sat down.
"We have more than one baldie round here?"
"Yeah." Trinity said. "Three, in fact."
"Oh, hilarious."
"Thank you. I thought so."
"I mean the Savior Child. Genuinely fucking beautiful. My advice, Trinity? Nail him while he's good and fresh, before he gets to Zion and the attention spoils him. Damn, if I were free I'd jump him myself."
"Hello?" said Apoc drily. "Remember me?"
"Yeah, and I just said I'd have to pass! What more d'you want? Blood? That boy's so off-the-goddamn-charts adorable it's like a movie star inserted his DNA into a Labrador puppy."
Apoc raised an eyebrow. "Now that's just kinky. Not to mention illegal. Any movie star in mind?"
"Careful. That's how rumors start."
"You started many?"
"Yep. Ask Richard Gere."
"God," said Trinity. "That was you?"
"And you thought the IRS was cool, huh? We all have our talents."
"You scare me sometimes, you know that?"
"I know you need to get laid. How long's it been, Trin?"
"What I need, is a new pad on the fourth port quadrant. It's not firing right. Again." She grimaced. "It never ends."
"All work and no play..."
"Keeps us the fuck alive?"
Switch looked at her for a moment, then brought her mug up, hid a smile. "So. You don't think he's pretty?"
"Who, Neo?" Trinity said, and shrugged, the picture of disinterest. "Can't really say I've noticed."
She's right, of course. Both counts. I couldn't be more aware of the man, and he really, really is. Beautiful is the only word. His bone structure, his extraordinary eyes, just the way he moves. His very awkwardness is endearing, it's the apologetic movement of a guy who doesn't know he's devastating. I used to wonder how someone who lived as he did had so many women falling over him, but once I met him, I knew. I knew absolutely. And I'm pathetically pleased that he was so completely oblivious to it; that he isn't the player he had opportunity to be.
I hardly know him, but I've never found anyone so easy to be with. He never makes me feel boxed in. He's so unassuming, never invades my space, but this morning I tripped slightly going down the ladder, Mouse had spilled some crap or other, and before I knew it his hand was on my arm. Steadying me. And suddenly I couldn't breathe.
I didn't even know he was there. Didn't know he had such good reflexes, either.
I'm not good at reading people. It's a problem, in this work. It's the one area I am close to disastrous. But with Neo, it's different. I don't know why. Maybe because we're alike. But I instinctively understand him, to the point it surprises me when the others can't. It seems so obvious. So easy, to read him. But it isn't easy, not to everyone else. Just me.
It's strange, how exhilarating that is.
"Hey."
She looks up. She must have been surprised – she'd evidently been miles away – but he can't discern any evidence of it. She as as calm, clear-eyed as ever.
"Neo."
"I'm sorry, I'll go..."
"No. No, I'm just surprised you're awake. That's all. Sit down." She stands, walks over to the counter. He can hear her pour something, and then she hands him a mug. "Here. It's only water, but at least it's hot. Cold wake you? There are more blankets if you need them."
He shakes his head as he takes the drink. "Thanks."
"Can't sleep?"
He takes a sip, shakes his head again. "You can't sleep either," he says. It is a statement, not a question.
She looks at him, waits for the inevitable inquiry, but it doesn't come.
"How old were you?" he says instead.
"When I was freed?"
"No. The IRS."
"Ah," she says. "I was fifteen."
"Christ." His eyes widen as he processes this. "When I was that age... God. I wasn't doing shit like that."
"It wasn't as hard as you'd expect." The tone is automatic.
"Sure. That's why nobody else's ever managed it."
She looks up at him then, and smiles, shrugs slightly. "Well, I had motive. Amazing what you can do when you're desperate. Anyway, a lot manage it once they're out. Just doesn't get advertised, that's all."
"Really?"
"Yeah. The Academy – that's where Zion trains us – hacking's core curriculum."
He is silent for a while, and then he says, "What motive?"
"Hmm?"
"You said you were desperate. That was the motivation."
"Oh." She pauses, and then she says, "I had to find Morpheus."
"He didn't look for you?"
She shakes her head. "They only picked me up after I did the IRS. Right after, actually. It's how I survived."
"The machines know it was you?"
She nods. "They know exactly who I am."
"Why do they not say, then? On the most wanted lists? Everyone's looking for a guy."
"They don't want potential targets knowing. They might look for me, as well as for Morpheus. Women might look for me instead, actually. Publicizing his face backfired. It was a screw up - they don't plan on a second. Especially as I'm the one making all initial approaches now."
"Oh," he says. "Right." He fidgets with a loose thread at the edge of one sleeve. "So... you approach all the targets."
"Sure. I'm First Mate. It's part of the job."
"So that white rabbit thing – the club – it's standard operating procedure?"
"Oh, that," she says. "No. No, I'd never done that before."
"You hadn't?" His eyes meet hers.
"No," she says. Her tone is crisp. "Every initial contact is different – safer that way."
The eyes fall again. "Right. So, fifteen. You went to the... Academy?"
She nods. "Yeah. We all did. Except Cypher, he was too old when he was freed. Rest of us, yeah."
"You went with Switch?"
"Uh huh."
"Was she... the same? Back then?"
She smiles suddenly, amused. "Oh, yeah. She's what you might call consistent. Always was."
"Right," he says, uncertain. She looks at him.
"You'll find she grows on you."
Her voice is as even as ever, but he suddenly appreciates that the women are close, almost wordless as their interaction around him has been. It reassures him, that Trinity can feel that much for someone. He wants to be this woman's friend; in this moment he suddenly wants it as much as he's ever wanted anything. He's never met anyone quite like her; he's an introvert, his preference has always been for solitude. But being with her, with that calm stillness, is somehow even more restorative. Perhaps he's just losing it. Perhaps he's just afraid he'll go crazy here if left alone too often. But he doesn't think so. When he talks to her, everything suddenly crystallizes into meaning. When he watches her – that efficient grace, that tranquil poise – he can believe that freedom is everything he hoped for.
He believes in her, he realizes. Whatever else is confusing, she isn't. Stranger she may be, but she makes sense to him.
"She's with Apoc, right?" he says, realizing he's been silent. Staring at her. He's afraid she'll leave.
"Yeah," she says. "Has been a decade, now. But we never mention it. There's a kind of don't ask, don't tell with ship relationships. It's just how it is. So they can shuffle people apart if it gets messy. Officially they ban couples, so they can do that. So it'd be, um, a kind of faux pas..."
"Got you."
She looks at him. "I didn't need to, did I. You won't go there."
"I don't like to... I don't know."
"Invade people's space? Yeah. I noticed."
He is seized by a sudden anxiety that she is subtly critical; that she, like so many women he's known, really means you never give a fuck about anyone but yourself. But looking up, he finds her eyes locked on his own, clear, unguarded, and there is unqualified approval in them.
"You don't either," he says suddenly, realizing how true that is. "That's how you know."
She shrugs, but it is not a dismissive gesture. It's an acknowledgement.
"It's why you're so restful to be around," he says, as if stumbling on a piece of a jigsaw. The answer to something he's been puzzling at. "No demands."
As soon as the words leave his mouth he could kick himself, for a myriad of reasons. He isn't sure what sounds worse – his seemingly preferring women to be undemanding, or sounding like he's trying to pay her some greasily insincere compliment. This is the Trinity, and he just described her as undemanding. And he's fully aware of just how demanding she can be. He's sparred with her now, and she went far harder on him than Morpheus. He has the bruises to prove it. But looking at her, she seems unruffled. She takes another sip of her drink. Then she clears her throat, and for the first time, he can see her struggling with something.
"Same," she says at last. Her voice is still even, but it's almost inaudible, too. "You, I mean."
Their eyes meet, and lock. There is absolute silence. Later, each will wonder if they remembered to breathe.
"Hey," a voice says, shattering the moment. They startle, and look anywhere but at each other.
"Cypher," Trinity says briskly, and rises. "Am I on?"
Cypher looks at her, and then at Neo.
"Trin, you were on fifteen minutes ago. I should be asleep. Guess Neo's quite the conversationalist, huh?" He drops a hand on Neo's shoulder. "Trinity," he says in his ear, his tone confiding, "is never late. For anything."
The first thing he knew was her voice screaming now! - and then her hair against his face as she flung herself across him. Then a rush of energy seared viciously through his cranial jack like a sudden, agonizingly explosive migraine.
Jesus. That's worse than the bullets.
He felt her flinch, rigid, and realized her own jack had taken the full impact, exposed, as she shielded him from the worst of it with her own body.
When he opened his eyes he was looking out at blackness, every light extinguished, the only illumination from leaping flames in the devastated core. But he could see her face by that firelight, a face shell-shocked and vulnerable as she looked into his eyes. And he realized that she was, finally, afraid. Afraid that he wouldn't know what she'd told him, and afraid that he would.
He ran his hand along her arm, up to the delicate slope of her shoulders, as he'd been wanting to do for days, finally bringing his palm to rest on the nape of her neck. Then he lifted his head, pulled her down to him, and kissed her.
Three weeks earlier, he'd woken to a world of war and hell and loss and fear, with only freedom and friendship to warm a bleak, unbelievable truth. Now he was reborn again, and this time, into love. He'd heard her voice in there as clearly as if she'd been standing next to him, and it was suddenly natural that he'd heard her, natural that he'd defied death just to return to her, and natural that they should kiss. His tongue was suddenly fluent in a language he'd always thought unreachably foreign, the texture of her skin and the taste of her mouth all he knew, until she abruptly broke away.
"Goddamnit."
"Trinity? What's... what is it?"
She bit her lip, then said gently, "The EMP killed all systems. Can't run any scans. But don't worry. I know what to do."
"Trinity..." he tried to pull her back into his arms, but she moved back, shook her head. She'd reverted to the coolly efficient soldier of the Matrix.
"No. Neo, you must take this seriously. Open your mouth and lie back."
"Huh?"
"I need to know if you're bleeding orally. It can be an indication of internal injury."
He blinked. "You've definitely examined my mouth, Trinity."
Her face briefly warmed into a smile, but then she nodded briskly, began tapping her way down his chest with precise, delicate fingertips. "Does this hurt?" she said, her voice even and controlled.
"No. Just bruising."
"This?"
"No. Trinity, it's fine." He tried to pull her back into another kiss, dismayed as she once again sidestepped out of his arms, and then he looked down and saw the sentinel, lying impotent at her feet. Talons outstretched, mere inches away.
"Oh Jesus Christ."
"It's okay, it's dead. Scrap metal."
"But it could've killed you!"
She shrugged. "It didn't."
"But it could have," he said, staring at the thing, at its horrifying proximity. He suddenly realized exactly why she'd flung herself across him, and, not for the first time, he was humbled by the totality of her courage. Agents, sentinels, death itself, she shrugged her slender shoulders at them all as they fell, wholly defeated. Making them, perhaps, not so very different to himself.
So you see, you can't be dead. You can't be, because I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. Now get up.
He had the suspicion that he'd always do anything she asked of him. Anything at all, no questions, no hesitations.
Let me tell you what I believe.
But looking at her, he also had the suspicion that she wouldn't ask. Not unless it was something vital. Conquering death. Ending the war. Loving her.
I believe you are going to need my help.
"Trinity..."
"Neo, you're shaking." She cupped her palm over his forehead.
"I'm just cold."
"No. You're in shock." She pulled away, angry with herself. "God, of course you're in shock. Wait here."
"No! No, stay. Please. Trinity..."
"I'll be back in a second."
She ran to the cabins, grabbed as many blankets as she could find, returned to the core and cocooned Neo in them, with swift, capable hands.
"There'll be a rescue ship soon," she said gently. "We sent an SOS before we blew it. Don't worry."
Neo put his hands out, took hers. "Trinity..."
"It's alright," she said soothingly, "It's all going to be alright. Don't be afraid, Neo."
"I'm not afraid," he said. "I just need you here. That's all."
