AN: Happy Belated Halloween! Hope everyone had plenty of spooky fun and got lots of candy. I spent my Halloween doing a presentation in my Neurobiology class. Not exactly a great time but I think the presentation went alright. I'm not comfortable talking in front of the room which is strange because I've been dancing on stage for like twenty years. I guess the difference is that, on stage, I can't see the people in the audience. In front of the classroom, I can see everyone. Anywho, as far as I can see, this is the next to the last chapter in this little misadventure. I hope everyone who's still out there enjoyed the ride! There is most definitely a sequel to this misadventure on the horizon, though. A sequel with more fighting, more Matrix-y action, and, maybe, even a bit more on the Pixie and Wheeler front. Please, keep reading and reviewing! This chapter was, definitely, harder to write than anything else!

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.

"I am unwritten,
Can't read my mind
I'm undefined
I'm just beginning
The pen's in my hand
Ending unplanned…" (from "Unwritten" by Natasha Bettingfield)

"Sit down" the only individual in the room stated, speaking but not looking at the medic-in-training, "I'll be with you in just a jiffy."

What Pixie could of the other person in the room was a floral dress- like a house dress that she'd seen older people in the Matrix wearing- standing behind the wide open door of a refrigerator. It was an old style refrigerator, the kind with rounded edges and only one door. Pixie couldn't tell if she was working in the freezer or the lower half of refrigerator.

She sighed and sat down at the table, taking in the rest of the room. Pixie was starting to see pattern in the way the house was decorated. The "vintage" look extended to this room, with brightly colored, wallpapered walls and old style cabinetry and appliances.

On the stove was a double boiler a metallic pot full of boiling water under a clear glass bowl. The bowl was empty at the moment but there were some chocolate looking stains on its inside. On the table was a white, plastic cutting board and a very large cutting knife. Both were covered in shavings of chocolate. A few wrapped bars of cocoa based substance sat on the table, tempting the medic. She hadn't had chocolate in what seemed like ages.

This, at least, explained why both Hawk and Mouse had come out munching on the treat. This woman- The Oracle, Pixie supposed- had given it to them at some point during their meeting.

Part of Pixie could only hope she'd be rewarded with the same sweet treat. Yes, she knew it was fake but chocolate was still chocolate. She could still want some, fake or otherwise.

The woman returned, carrying a tray of frozen chocolate. She was a grandmotherly sort of person, at least in Pixie's mind she was anyway. It was obvious she was older, her dark skinned face creased by many smiles and frowns throughout a long life. She was dressed in a flowery dress, green and orange that strangely matched the rest of the room, and what Pixie could only describe as nurses' shoes.

The older woman began to take the chocolate out of the molds, watching Pixie with a trained eye. The medic-in-training, suddenly, felt very small. She averted her eyes, looking anywhere in the room but at the older woman. There was something in that friendly but not quite gaze that made Pixie distinctly nervous.

It was like she wasn't so much looking at her but looking through her. As if she could see into the very recesses of Pixie's mind. It was not something Pixie was extremely comfortable with to say the very least. She rested her hands in her lap, fiddling with her fingers as her nervous energy tried to find a way to vent itself.

"They say making chocolate is very relaxing," the old woman commented casting a wary eye at the obviously nervous young woman, "I tend to agree with them."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but who are you?" Pixie asked, watching the older woman turn out the chocolate, focusing on that instead of the fact she, suddenly, felt see through and exposed.

It was shell shaped, slipping out of the clear plastic molds with ease. Not a single shell stuck to the mold nor did any of it crack on the way out. The older woman's hands moved with practiced motions, twisting and turning the clear plastic in order to get the candy out but not crack the chilled mold.

"Morpheus didn't tell you?" she retorted, sounding slightly amused.

Pixie just shook her head, not sure of where this old woman was going with this conversation. Much to the young woman's chagrin, there some vital piece of information missing here. Some name or title not given or something to that effect. Unless, it was and she'd missed it. Pixie fervently hoped it was the former and not the latter.

The old woman gave a short, good natured chuckle before replying, "I'm the Oracle."

Pixie looked at the woman in a whole new light. She'd heard about going to see an oracle from some of the others who had jobs on ships. Torrent had mentioned in passing claiming he didn't want to talk about it in front of her and Eli and Chian had just stated she'd gone. That had been the end of that conversation.

In Pixie's mind, it also seemed to be the only rational way to explain the feeling she'd had. Maybe she older woman- the Oracle- had been divining something about by looking into her head. Something to that effect, anyway.

"So, you're going to tell me my future, kind of like the Oracle at Delphi?" Pixie questioned, curiously.

"That's not what I'm going to do. I'm only here to help you understand the decisions you've already made. Your decisions have already been made. You just have to understand them," the Oracle told the young woman.

Pixie stared, confused, at the older woman. She didn't know what the older woman was talking about. How could she understand a decision she hadn't already made?

If she'd already made all her decisions already, then that made it seem like her future had already been decided. There was no free will involved in anything she did. Pixie figured it that was true, she was nothing more than a puppet, a slave to some ultimate fate she couldn't fight.

That idea wasn't appealing to Pixie at all. She was rather keen on the idea that her decisions were all made the moment she needed to make them. Her future wasn't already decided. She and her free will were shaping it as she went along.

"You're a good girl: loyal, dedicated to a fault, a hard worker, just as hard a fighter. Morpheus is lucky to have you on his ship," the Oracle told Pixie, ignoring the confused look on the girl's face, "and you need to learn to give yourself credit. You're worth far more than you believe you are."

She gave Pixie a gentle smile and added, "There's a certain someone out there who'd be inclined to agree with me. That's why he likes you. He wants to make sure you know you're worth more than you believe."

"Who? Someone on my ship?" Pixie asked, growing even more confused by the moment.

This woman didn't seem to be speaking any kind of prophecy but she was saying, well, things. Things that didn't really make sense to Pixie, no matter how she tried to rationalize them. Maybe they were supposed to make sense but in her confusion everything was just sort of settling in the dark haired young woman's mind and staying there.

This new information, if one could call it that, sort of piled up like so many parcels. It crowded up the corridors of her mind, not allowing any of her streamlined and carefully controlled thoughts slip past.

"No," the Oracle replied with a knowing shake of her head, "the person I'm talking about has liked you for quite sometime but he's just as scared as you. The two of you will come around in time. It's just going to take some coaxing for both of you to realize it."

Pixie's brow furrowed as she tried to puzzle out just who this woman was talking about. At the moment, her mind was drawing a blank. There wasn't anyone she could think of that felt that way about her. All of the people- except for Hawk but that was a whole other case- she could think of were just her friends. Even the ones back in Zion were just her friends.

"Now, on to other things," the Oracle announced, as if she hadn't given Pixie enough to think about, "I know you're a medic and that you're bent on keeping your crew safe and sound which is very honorable of you, dearie. Though you believe your hands were meant to heal, they can be used for other things. You'll come to terms with that, eventually, but, I'll tell you, it'll be hard."

"I don't understand what you're telling me," Pixie whined, in a small voice, "Please, can you tell me what you mean."

She wasn't fond of being confused. It went against everything she stood for as a medic. Everything could be rationalized in scientific terms; there was no need for confusion. If a medic was confused while treating someone, that was not a good thing.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head off, my dear. It'll all make sense to you in time. You'll do alright," the Oracle told Pixie, not helping the situation any.

Pixie wanted an explanation of what she was being told, not an assurance that she'd understand in time. It was frustrating to her that she couldn't just be told. Things would have been a whole lot simpler that way.

She handed a silent Pixie a piece of chocolate with a grandmother's smile. Pixie took the piece of candy, not wanting to be rude.

"Eat that. It'll help you think. Remember the past. Cherish the present. Fight the future," the Oracle told the silent rebel as she ushered her out of the room.

As Morpheus brought his three, now silent, rookies back down to the car. No one spoke. To Pixie, the car ride back to the phone was a lot longer than it should have been, even with the chocolate.

"Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten" (from "Unwritten" by Natasha Bettingfield)