A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far... it means alot.


Answers

By Jaded Starlight


Chapter Eight:

Art

For the first time since her return to work, she was not nervous.  She had showered and picked out an outfit different from her usual attire.  She entered the building twenty minutes late, but did not care.  The eyes of her coworkers immediately fixed on her as she was accustomed to.  Their eyes this time were wide in disbelief.  Jade's hair hung loosely, curled at the ends down her back.  Her skirt was business appropriate in length.  Her jacket matched her skirt in material and color, as did the tank top she wore beneath it.  The color, however, deviated from the business norm.   By definition, it was rose.  By eye, it was bright pink.  Today she met their glances with her own.  With a smile.

She almost laughed as she finally made it to her desk.  She was ready to start typing when her boss approached her.

"Jade… I need to speak with you."

"Sure…"

"In my office."

"Okay."  She followed, maintaining her image.  She would not back down. She couldn't.  She stepped into the familiar office and the door closed behind them.  Mr. Westburg took a seat and advised her to do the same.

"I know what happened yesterday.  Don't try to explain."

Well, she was bound to get the axe sooner or later.

"Your government friend called, explained everything.  Not in detail of course, it's government business and I understand that.  But I want you to know that if you need anything at all, please come to me."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing and nodded.

"Now, because of your circumstances, I'd like to see you out of this office by three.  No exceptions.  I'm upping your paycheck."

She was shocked.  "Why?"

"We fired Elizabeth."

"Why?"

"What's-her-name… Fran, the tightass caught them- well, you know."

Jade laughed.  "Living well is the best revenge."

Her employer smiled. "That it is."

"Anything else for me?" She asked.

"Take care of yourself."

She nodded.  "I am."

He opened the door for her, and she immediately thought of Smith.  She smiled at her boss and again sat at her desk.  She saw the phone and tried to suppress the urge to call him.  Well, she had a reason, didn't she?

"Hello?"

"Were you planning on telling me that you got me off the hook, or was I gonna have to find out myself?"

He smiled.  "I thought it would be a nice surprise."

"You thought right.  What exactly did you tell him?"

"Something about a terrorist network linked to your attacker… I told him our organization needed to speak with you."

She laughed.  "Nice cover."

"Humans are easily manipulated.  With the exception of yourself."

"I'm touched."

"Ha, ha." He laughed dryly.

"Thanks though.  I got a raise and a shorter workday."

"Congratulations.  When does your workday conclude?"

"Three."

"Interesting."

"Uh oh.  It sounds like Smith has an idea…"

"As I recall, you seemed to enjoy my idea yesterday."

"I most definitely did.  Did you?"

"What?" He sounded confused.

"Yesterday.  Did you have fun?"

Pause.

"She began humming the "Jeopardy" theme song.

"Stop that infernal tune!"

She laughed.  "Did you have a good time?"

"…Yes.  I had the human equivalent of a 'good time'."

"Was that so hard?"

He growled.

She laughed.  She heard a door open and close.

"I must go.  My associates have just arrived."

"It's ok.  I'll talk to you later."

"Alright."

"Bye!"

Click.

Two faces looked at the third in perplexity.

"Are you going to stand there like idiots or say something?!"

Jones flustered.  "Erm… yes, of course.  We… um… hello?"

Smith reached for his gun and paused for a moment.  Gritting his teeth, he dropped his hands to his sides and sighed.  "Hello, Agent Jones."

Jones had recoiled into a defensive position, bracing himself for the inevitable gunshot, which to his surprise, didn't come. 

"We have a briefing." Brown said.

Smith nodded and joined his colleagues.  Agent Jones was still perplexed.  Thankful, but perplexed. 

Jade was busy typing when three of her coworkers interrupted.  She knew them; they had gone to lunch on several occasions and organized the office Christmas party.

"Jade, sweetie, you need a break." The redhead dressed in black said.

"Actually, I think I just needed to get back to work."  Well, this would be amusing.

The brunette laughed.  "You can't be serious.  This shit hole?"

"There's an art exhibit at the museum all week, we're all going on Friday night."  The blond one explained, "You wanna come?"

"Thanks Maureen, but I can't." Jade replied, feigning disappointment.

The three simultaneously pouted.

Jade tried not to laugh.

"Well, would you like to have lunch tomorrow?" The brunette tried.

"I have an appointment.  Sorry, Amy."

"Appointment?" The redhead asked.  "You're a secretary, since when to you have appointments?"

Ok.  Now she was pissed.

"It's probably with that guy she left with yesterday." Maureen chimed.

"The rich guy in a nice car with a business suit?" Amy added, rather obnoxiously.

"Actually," Jade said, "yes.  It is with him."

The three exchanged glances.

"Now, if you'll excuse me it's three and my workday is over." She said, standing up and grabbing her purse as she brushed past them without a second glance.   She stepped out of the building with an elated sigh.  That was… invigorating.

"Excuse me, Miss…" A familiar voice asked, "do you have the time?"

Her head whipped around and found its source.  "Smith, you're going to give me a heart attack!"

He smiled.  "I thought it was creative."

"Creative, yes.  But scary."

"My apologies."

"It's ok.  I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that you were in the neighborhood."

"I wanted to be sure your workday went smoothly.  It is my job, of course."

"Riiiight." She replied, catching sight of the three women behind the glass, watching her.  She smiled.  "Do you have anything to do this afternoon?"

"No.  Why?"

"Do you like art?" She asked with a smile.

"This is perhaps the most bizarre thing I have ever witnessed." A confused, frowning Agent Smith observed.

She laughed.  "This piece is a bit… strange."

"Strange?" He asked, "It's a boot glued to canvas!"

"Ok, so it's a bit unconventional."

He snorted.  "Understatement."

She sighed, rolling her eyes.  "I get it, you don't like it… sheesh." She said, "We'll look at another one."   They left the modern art wing.  "Here, it's Picasso.  You'll like him."

Smith cringed.  "What makes you think so?"

"… I don't know.  Just … be open minded, hard as that is for you." She reminded.

"Guerncia." Smith read.  "It looks worse than the shoe."

She laughed.  "It's named after the town Hitler bombed in Spain… when they were at war with France in the 30's."

The Agent looked at her curiously.  "How do you see that?"

"Just look," She said, "the women and children and the animals… the pain and chaos… over there," she said, pointing, "you see the flames?"

He did.

"The surrealism and use of double images… do you see the objects kind of metamorphosed into each other?  The horse and the bull?"

Smith downloaded information on this Picasso.  He had of course known of him but not in the depth Jade was explaining.  He then squinted at the painting, observing what she had referenced.  "How did you know that?"

"I was raised by Picasso, Monet, and Van Gough." She explained.

"Of the three, who do you prefer?" He asked as they strolled leisurely.

"Van Gough."

"Really?" He asked, screwing his face in confusion.

"Yeah.  What?" She responded to his facial expression.

"I just thought you would have been inclined to Monet." He replied.

"I love Monet and all but you don't get any emotion from his work until the end of his career.  Van Gough's stuff is just incredible."

"He was insane."

"All geniuses are."

"Monet was not insane.  He was respected as a genius."

She offered a glance, "Did you miss the part of his career when he became a misanthropic hermit?"

Smith remained silent.  "How did you come to know so much about art?  Are you involved in the field?"

She laughed.  "No, no, hell no." She said, "My mother.  She was… well, she called herself an artist."

He nodded.

"I say: just because no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist."

He smiled.

"Most of them are just Indie-wanna-be's who have no talent and walk around smoking cigarettes saying stuff," She paused dramatically, "'I'm, like, tortured and crap!'  But then you have those people who make art because of their vision and passion… and you can tell.  You can see that these people paint or draw or whatever for themselves, not for recognition."

He nodded.

"Maybe I'm cynical after living with my mother so long… but that's just how I feel."

"Your mother called herself an artist?" He questioned.

"Yeah."

"Would you say she was?"

She paused a moment, making eye contact and then avoiding it.  "No.  She had no passion." She replied quietly.  "The only reason they didn't divorce was my dad.  He knew she cheated.  He knew everything, but he wouldn't let her leave… because of us.  Me and Stel.  She'd be working on some excuse for a painting and I'd ask what it was and she'd be like, 'it's an impressionist neo-modern portrait of my caged soul' or something stupid like that.  I never understood any of her waste of paint.  It was always dark or moody or towards the end, streaks of red.  I asked her if she could draw a picture of us and she just laughed at me.  'art captures a thing of beauty.  Why would I waste it on us?'  Somehow, my dad put up with her.  I don't know how, but he did." She stopped walking and lingered idly before a painting.  "Out of everyone, though, I always appreciated Escher.  No one really knows much about him, but God his work is fascinating.  This one… the first one I'd ever seen, I always felt like it described me.  I know it's bizarre.  That and his Sinking Cathedral."

He observed what appeared to be a lithograph.  It was called "Relativity".  It was strange… staircases leading sideways, up, down and everywhere.  There were walls and floors and ceilings all serving the other's function.  The figured appeared to treat this scene with regularity, as if it were customary.  "It is certainly strange." He said, "Why do you choose this specific work?"

"You see how nonsensical it is.  Totally impossible.  The people in the picture are just acting like it's normal.  It creates a feeling of isolation, you know?  Kind of like, if life's a joke it's on you."

"You were undoubtedly overlooked, were you not?"

"Well, I wasn't neglected or anything." She replied.

"I did not mean it in that sense."

She knew what he was asking.  "It was hard for them, you know?  My dad had to take care of Stella because my mother was always running around like a nutcase. Guess it's a good thing I was easily amused."

He ignored her joke.  "I sense distain toward your mother." He replied, putting it mildly.

"I loved my mother.  I really did, even if I didn't like her.  She wasn't always a 'tortured artist'.  There were times she tried to be a parent, but anything that didn't come easily she generally avoided.  I learned a lot from her."

"And your father?  What was he like?"

"Well, Dr. Freud, my father played the piano, guitar and the violin.  He was in a rock band back in college and that was how he met my mother.  They played a gig at her school and the rest is history.  But he was a good man.  He wasn't always there, but he tried damn hard to be.  When my mother quit working he took two jobs and hadda raise us on the side.  He was calm, levelheaded.  Everything my mother wasn't, you know?"

"He is currently deceased?"

"Yeah.  He died when I was seventeen."

Smith referenced her file.  "That was the same year during which your sister and mother passed."

Jade nodded.  "Wasn't my favorite year."

Smith was still confused.  "What happened to them?"

She sighed.  "They said my mom was mugged, they found her in some alley with her wallet and everything.  It was an excuse.  My dad was hit by a car that didn't exist.  Stella just collapsed."

Smith was silent.

"I think it was the Resistance." She said in a whisper.

Smith's eyes grew wide. 

"Think about it.  A mugging with nothing taken, a hit-and-run without a licensed car, lying there like someone pulled the plug… it all screams Resistance."

"But why you?  Why would they target you in such a way?"

"I've always thought of it as punishment."

"For what?"

"Going back.  Nobody goes back, they can't.  It's a rule.  I guess they figured if they took everything away binding me to the Matrix, I'd want out."

"But you didn't."

She offered a small smile.  "There was nothing for me in either place.  So I opted for my pride and continued life in the Matrix.  A girl's gotta have something."

Smith agreed.  "I am sorry you had to go through that."

She waved her hand.  "Don't be.  Bad as it was, it could've been worse."

"That is one way to look at it."

"Everyone needs a raging optimist."

She'd said that before.  "I guess you are right."

"There's always two ways to see things… my mother saw them one way, I see them the other.  I always had confidence that everything just made me stronger." She explained, "Then again, 'what does not kill me postpones the inevitable'."

Smith laughed.  "Where did you hear that?"

"Some random magazine that I got in the mail… it had all these sarcastic lithographs and stuff.  It was pretty funny.  One of them made me think of you."

"Which was that?" He asked.

"'If a pretty poster and a cute saying are all it takes to motivate you, you probably have a very easy job.  The kind that robots will be doing soon.'"

Smith could not help but laugh.  He tried to stifle the noise, but could not.  The eyes of everyone in the quiet and somewhat somber room turned to him, offering a scornful glance.

"I'm sorry," He offered, "I was not aware we were at a funeral. Please, go back to your bongo drums, black eyeliner and suicidal poetry."  With that, he grabbed Jade's arm and ran out of the museum.

"I'm dying to know what that was about."  Jade asked, standing on the museum steps with her hands on her hips.

Smith grinned.  "I have absolutely no idea."

A smile began to form on Jade's lips.  She tried to suppress the grin, but she could not.  "Please, go back to your bongo drums, black eyeliner and suicidal poetry." She barreled over, laughing uncontrollably.

Smith could tell that Jade was what humans would call, "cracking up".  She had a nice laugh.  A bit loud, but not obnoxious.  Her eyes sparkled when she laughed, perhaps it could be the result of the tears she wiped away. 

"I can't believe you actually said that."

"Why?"

"…because!"

"Because?  Because I wanted to."

"I've wanted to say that to a lot of people, too."

"Why haven't you?"

"Because it's rude!"

"Maybe.  But you are entitled to your own opinion."

"They're opinionated too!"

"If you do not like or know them, why does it matter?"

She paused.  "You've got a point."

"Of course I do." He replied with a smile.

"Oh, is that how it is now?" She asked, a smirk on her face.

He returned the expression.  "Without question."

"Really?"

"Really."

"We'll see about that." She replied mischievously.

"That sounds like a challenge, Miss Turner." He replied, narrowing his eyes.

"Caught on to me, did ya?" She returned.

"You are undoubtedly brave to challenge me." He said, emphasizing the last word still playing along.

"I wouldn't say I'm brave," She said in a low voice, leaning up to his ear with one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder, "just very, very… crafty." She said, quickly reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket and grabbing his sunglasses before he realized what she had done.

As she waved the glasses tauntingly in front of him with an innocent look on her face he smiled huge.  "You may be crafty, but I ask you this: just how fast can you run?" 

After a pause, Jade knew what he meant and bolted into the park, the Agent trailing not far behind.  Smith was thoroughly enjoying this.  He was running slow enough to keep a distance between them, enough for Jade to assume she had the edge.  She was crafty, but only human.

She checked over her shoulder frequently, looking ahead only to ensure that she would not have a head-on with a tree or a child or some soccer mom.  She saw he was about to speed up and make a dive for her so she dug her heels into the ground and stepped to the side as the Agent collided with the ground.

He didn't move.

She sighed.  "I know you're fine, Smith.  This is the kind of stunt that third graders pull playing tag or something.  Plus, if you really were injured, you'd have switched bodies or something."

A hand came down on her shoulder and she gasped, dropping the glasses to the ground.  The hand reached down and took the shades and replaced them inside his jacket.  "Thanks!" he said.

Jade was in shock.  She watched the man on the ground as he stood, puzzled for a moment and scratched his head before walking off.  "Don't ever do that to me again!" She shouted, hitting his arm.

"Do what?"

"The switching bodies thing!  God, I thought it was… just please, don't do it."

He understood and the smile was gone from his face.  She'd had enough trauma, no need to make it worse over a pair of sunglasses.  "I am sorry."

"It's ok." She said, and in one fluid movement again took possession of the sunglasses.

"You…"

She giggled.  "Me."

"Keep them if you want." He said.

"Really?"

"Sure."

She tried them on and they slid down her nose, obviously too big for her.  She laughed and folded them before handing them to their owner.  "They're a little big."

He smiled and pocketed the glasses.

He saw her home and waited until he was certain that she was safely inside.  He spent a moment in the driver's seat, contemplating the day's events.  The art exhibit had been what humans would call 'fun', but surprisingly, the activity that proved most enjoyable was the short chase over his sunglasses.  He did not know why such a simple action had been the source of so much entertainment.  It was best not to analyze it.  He had to admit, Jade was indeed very crafty.  He shuddered, remembering her whispering to him.  It had obviously been part of her 'plan' to get his glasses, but there was something about it… something he couldn't place.  Human beings would see her behavior as flirtatious, but was that her intent?  Why did he care in the first place?