Disclaimer: Characters that were in the film 'The Matrix don't belong to me, others do, yadda, yadda…
Author's Note: First, I'd like to apologise for taking so damn long to update. I've had a lot of stuff on my plate at the moment… Sorry! But to make up for it, an awful lot happens… :)
Next, this chapter is set around the British holiday of Bonfire Night on the 5th November. I know lots of people don't know about this holiday (apart from British people obviously), so here's a little background info, so you're not too confused :P
In 1605, a group of conspirators, including but not led by, Guy Fawkes (I can't remember who the leader was. Sir Robert something I think.). The basic plan was to blow up the Houses of Parliament on the 5th of November, when they were filled with MP's and Lords. However, because there were so many conspirators the plot was discovered and a group of soldiers went to investigate the cellars. There they found Guy Fawkes who attempted to bluff his way out of it, saying he was a night watchman or some such thing. Unfortunately for him, the soldiers didn't believe him and searched the room. Hidden behind some barrels they discovered a *lot* (36 barrels I think) of gunpowder and promptly arrested Fawkes and tortured him until he revealed the other conspirators whereabouts, who were tortured and executed as well.
So every year, we celebrate the failure of the Gunpowder Plot by letting of big fireworks and having big bonfires on November 5th. Some people build 'Guys' - something that looks a little like a scarecrow – and throw it on a big bonfire. It's a fairly random and violent holiday, but I quite like it – it's very cosy standing outside, warming yourself by a bonfire and going "ooh!" and "aah!" every five seconds as a firework goes off. And Sparklers are stupidly fun. :P
Anyway, more information on http://www.guy-fawkes.com/ if you're interested.
And finally, thanks to Lisa for helping me, quite literally, beat all my stories together and for having much better English grammar than I have. Thankies! :D
On with the fic!
* * * *
Remember, remember
The fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason,
Why gunpowder treason,
Should ever be forgot.
Traditional poem* * * *
"Are you sure?" asked Auriga.
"For the last time, yes," said Maria impatiently. "I can't sleep anyway, I might as well do something useful." She crossed her fingers behind her back for luck, willing Auriga to comply. She hadn't been able to sleep; the same images of her old life floated in front of her like demons in the dark, until she couldn't stand it. She had decided to go for a walk, try and find something on the ship to do. Thoughts twisted around like a blizzard in her head and all she wanted to do was sleep and forget it all. But she couldn't. She could only think and plot her way out of the mess she had created for herself. When she had finally made it up to the console area, she had found Auriga asleep, snoring loudly, his head resting on the desk.
He still looked rather guilty at her suggestion to take his shift. "Look, you can take my next shift instead, alright? Then we're even."
Auriga nodded, the call of bed suddenly too strong. He got up and yawned, waving an absent hand at her. Maria watched him descend the ladder and turned to look at the code. She still found it fascinating to look at. It was awe-inspiring to realise that this insignificant looking green jumble was life to millions of people, and that none of them could imagine that an 11-year-old girl was watching them, like a miniature Big Brother.
Or rather Little Sister, she thought absently typing in the codes for her hometown. She did this whenever she was on watch, having at least one screen open on to her street. She wasn't experienced enough with the code to be able to pick out definite people but she could at least make out its quiet hustle and bustle. It comforted her to know that life went on, with or without her.
She looked at the screen hungrily, almost wishing she could fall into it, to fall asleep again. Her life may have been a dream, but it had been a pleasant one… hadn't it? She knew she had been unhappy for her last few months in the Matrix, but was she really happier here? She massaged her forehead. It was so hard to tell now, alone with only the green code to light her surroundings…
Her head snapped up. She was suddenly very awake. Alone… She was finally alone. Heart pumping, she considered her options carefully. It was the middle of the night. The ship was quiet. Nobody would come to check on her until morning and by then… she could be having breakfast with her family. The thought made her feel light-headed and slightly drunk. She glanced nervously around her, licking her lips. She was teetering on the edge of a decision. Making and having plans was entirely different to actually carrying them out. She glanced back at her town. Her home. Where she belonged.
Setting her jaw, she made her decision. She quickly started looking for the closest exit to her family home. She found it, fingers fumbling slightly over the keys. She paused trying to remember all the times she had watched Tank do this. Memories of flicking through the manuals for this very purpose flickered back to her and, flexing her fingers, she typed in the commands, hoping she was correct. It seemed to work. She switched to manual plug-in and locked on the exit. She jumped lightly out of the seat and padded softly over to what she had privately dubbed as "the dentist chairs".
Maria did not think as she fastened her boots to the footrests. A deeper part of her knew that if she actually considered what she was about to do, she would see its folly and quail. But the ache inside of her had grown to such an extent that it sometimes made her want to retch. Time was not healing her wounds: it was exposing them to the flies.
She couldn't live like that, she decided, leaning her head back against the rest. Nobody could.
"I have to do this," she whispered and taking a deep breath, she plunged the needle into the back of her head.
* * * *
"Zion, come in. This is the Nebuchadnezzar. Do you read me?"
Morpheus groaned quietly to himself. He had been trying to contact Zion on the crappy radio link the Nebuchadnezzar had been equipped with the last time they had returned to the city full of holes. He had not really wanted to go to Zion that time: Neo had just destroyed the agent, and even at that early time, gossip had flown through the air waves about the skinny pale guy who was going to save them all. He had not wanted Zion to get their hands on Neo before he was ready. But the Neb had been so badly damaged there had been little choice. Still, while they had been there, he had made sure that they were well equipped enough to last a very long time indeed before having to head back to Zion. Of course, messages had been sent daily asking if they could return because, surely, the One did not want to spend his time on board a cramped and dirty ship when he could live in nice, clean Zion.
And, now, finally when they were running low on fuel and actually wanted to return, Zion ignored them. Typical. He dropped the radio back on the table, resolving to try again in the morning. If they ignored him then, he'd just have to arrive at Zion without permission. And then deal with all the bureaucratic nonsense they were bound to throw at him.
Morpheus wanted to kick something but his practical nature told him that that would achieve nothing but a sore foot. He sighed and ran a hand over his face and paused, listening. The ship was quiet. Too quiet. He stood up and left the communication room. He walked over to the hatchway and listened. Strange. Auriga was on watch tonight and usually his snores could be heard all over the ship.
Might as well go see if he's alright, thought Morpheus and started to climb the ladder.
* * * *
Maria hung the phone back up on its receiver and jumped at the sudden explosion that illuminated the tiny phone box with a red light. She twisted around and stared wildly out into the street. Shrieks and yells followed the explosion, and she could hear other, smaller bangs and screams rent the night sky.
There's been a mistake, I've gone to the wrong place. Oh god, what have I –
A shrill whistle interrupted her thoughts. Glancing up to the sky, she saw what looked like a green shooting star streak up from the ground. Maria felt her shoulders sag with relief as she realised what it was: a firework. The screams she had heard were from the excitement the colour and noise had created.
She leant back against the phone box's glass side and took a deep breath. Her heart was still pounding from shock, fear, excitement, nerves, and something else she couldn't quite place. She had never felt anything like this before, her emotions whirling around her so fast it was hard to make out exactly what they were.
Setting her jaw, feeling as though every muscle in her body had gripped her bones with an unnatural fierceness, she wrenched the box's door open and stepped out into the cold night air. Another firework whizzed up into the air on her left, and then another a few moments later. A group of people walked past, wrapped up in gloves and scarves, laughing and pointing upwards. Frowning, Maria tried to work out why so many people were celebrating in such cold weather and then it dawned on her – Bonfire Night.
I must have been out of the Matrix for almost a year now, she thought with a vague sense of amazement. It hadn't seemed that long… but then again, she had been unconscious for quite a while. She half smiled to herself.
As long as Maria could remember, she had loved Bonfire Night; watching the spectacles from her father's shoulder when she had been younger, running to find her friends, shrieking as they wrote their names in the air with sparklers. Despite the danger the explosives could hold, it was a safe and cosy night. One she had missed very much.
Maria felt a little better about her decision. Fireworks were exploding in the sky, people were cheering and laughing, and it was one of her favourite nights of the year: the perfect homecoming. The whirling vortex in her stomach calmed slightly as she realised that this was all this was. She was going home. She had faced the hard part, discovering and living a new reality. This would be easy. It would have to be. She wasn't sure if she could keep her emotions in check for much longer.
You can't go back. You know that, this homecoming, it won't work, it can't-
Maria clapped a lid on the traitorous voice, turned sharply on her heel and strode down the street, trying to exude a confidence she didn't feel.
You know the truth now, how can you possibly expect to just forget that -
"It'll be alright," she whispered to herself, walking quickly towards the churchyard at the end of the street. She tried very hard not to think about what had happened the last time she had walked through a graveyard. The phone box she had materialised out of was the nearest exit to her house, and it was still a good 10-minute walk away.
You cannot go back. Not to your house, not to your friends…not even to your parents.
Maria stopped in the middle of the road and breathed heavily. This was so hard. Harder than she could ever have imagined. Memories rose up within her and threatened to drown her, drag her down to the icy depths she had struggled to stay above of for months, if not years. A door, a feeling she had tried to shut out, was slowly opening in her mind.
She shook her head and continued walking. She would not, could not sink below those thoughts, would not open that door. It was going to be all right, she told herself. She would see her family again; after months of aching for them she could look upon them with her own (fake) eyes. They would smile and hug her, and it would all be all right.
It had to be.
* * * *
He loved to watch her sleep. To see her at almost peace with the world. Which was a joke really. One thing the real world was not was peaceful. And, to a certain extent, neither was Trinity. Neo knew what other people thought of her. The female warrior, the soldier. Cold, detached and brilliant. Everybody knew it. He knew it was true: she could be hard, unbreakable, and yet was so much more complex. Sometimes he felt that he hardly knew her but that it did not really matter. They understood each other and, more miraculously in his opinion, had found each other.
Trinity's lips moved slightly, whispering in her dreams. He wondered for a moment if she dreamt about the two of them, together, somewhere different from the cold ship and Zion and even the Matrix. A place where they could both finally be free. Those dreams came to him more and more frequently now, and he wondered if it meant anything other than an absent yearning for something that could probably never be. Perhaps he should talk to Morpheus or the Oracle about it… Neo smiled ruefully to himself. They were likely to give him some cryptic answer that would only cause him a headache.
Trinity stirred. He leant in close to her ear and whispered her name. She didn't react. He bent down and kissed her lightly, and then again when nothing happened.
"Neo, what are you doing?" she asked finally without opening her eyes.
"Kissing you," he replied, moving on to her neck.
"Why?"
"Because I love you. What?" he asked looking at her, chocolate brown eyes wide. "Don't you like it?"
She half smiled at him. "You don't usually wake me up in the middle of the night just to kiss me."
"No," he mused. "You don't usually wake up."
She laughed, a sound that was little heard outside their cabin and reminded Neo of a wine glass breaking against the floor. It rang in his ears for hours afterwards. He smiled at her and rested his head against her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat. She ran her hand through his hair. He shut his eyes. They were silent for a moment.
"Trinity?"
"Mmm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"You just did."
"Ha ha."
"You sound like a school boy."
"Do you believe in fate?" The question burst out of him before he had really meant it to. Trinity's hand stopped stroking his hair.
"Why do you want to know?" she asked sounding slightly suspicious.
"I don't know," he sighed, sitting up and looking down at her "I was just wondering."
Trinity remained silent. The room was dark but he could just make out the shape of her face, her eyes.
"I mean," he continued, suddenly strangely grateful he couldn't see her face, "Everyone's just waiting for me to do something impressive, like –"
"Destroying the machines?"
"Exactly. But I don't know how. I don't know what I should do."
"You're the One, Neo. You'll find a way. I have faith in you." Her voice was soft but did not comfort him. His heart managed the difficult feat of lifting and plummeting almost simultaneously. He felt relieved that she believed in him. He knew that some of the other ship captains were sceptical of his ability both in and out of the Matrix and wondered if it was not all some elaborate trick performed by Morpheus to gain accolade in Zion. Neo didn't need their doubt. He had plenty of his own.
But Trinity trusted him… what if he let them down? What if he let her down, and she left him? This relationship was so new and brittle... Could it stand a blow in her faith like that?
Although he did not doubt that she loved him, he was not as sure that she loved him as much as he loved her. It frightened him how much he had grown to depend on her because he had never depended on anybody before. He had always been independent, even from his family. A loner.
He couldn't imagine a life in the real world without her. She had always been there.
"Neo?"
He blinked. "Sorry. I was just…thinking."
She found his hand in the darkness and squeezed. "I know."
"Yeah. You do," he said thoughtfully, squeezing back. "You haven't answered my question yet."
"Why do you want to know?" she asked again, definitely sounding suspicious now.
"Because I want to know what you think." Neo wondered if that was the right thing to say. She was silent. Shit, he thought. Well done, Neo. Way to piss her off. Wake her up and ask personal questions. Right. Damage control.
"Like the Oracle. Do you believe that she knows what she's talking about?"
"I don't know."
"She predicted that I was the One."
"Neo, Morpheus predicted that that you were the One, and he's not psychic. He just saw something in you that nobody else did."
"The Oracle told him that he would find the One."
"I could have told you that. The man gets so damn fanatical…"
Neo shook his head. "Well, the Oracle predicted that you would fall in love with the One."
"She didn't explicitly say it. I had to work it out."
"She didn't?"
"Of course not. She's an Oracle. They're supposed to be cryptic."
"What did she say to you then?"
"She said that I would not believe who he was. That I would doubt him when he first arrived and try very hard not to fall in love with him."
"So how did you know that-?"
"Then she said as I was leaving that he would be my saviour. From the machines and… from myself."
Neo said nothing, but lay back down and embraced her. He could not think of the words to say to express what he felt for her. Perhaps there weren't any. Actions counted more than words in these moments.
"So," she said into his neck. "I guess that I don't believe in fate. You were bound to come along, or I would've lost myself… Am I making sense? Is that fate?"
Neo had a sneaking impression that she was only being this open with him because she was tired and he had caught her unprepared for such a strange question. And yet, it had seemed vital to him that he knew what she thought. That somehow he would know from her answer how much she loved him. And strangely enough, he thought that maybe he did feel like he knew now.
"I don't know," he said at last. "To be honest, I'm not sure what it is."
"If you don't know what fate is, then it was a silly question to ask." She stifled a yawn.
"True." He kissed her forehead. "Sorry to wake you."
"Don't worry. I'll get you back."
He laughed. "I'm sure you will."
She didn't reply and Neo stroked her hair. The conversation had been brief, and yet he felt that he had found out so much more than if they had been talking for hours. He felt closer to her than ever before. Sleep finally came to him, and he was grateful to it, sensing he would dream somewhat more pleasant dreams…
The cabin door was suddenly wrenched open. Light flooded the tiny room. They sat up quickly, Trinity swearing creatively. Morpheus stood in the doorway, eyebrows deeply furrowed.
"She's gone," he said enigmatically.
"What?"
"Who's gone?"
"Maria. She's gone into the Matrix."
Neo sat up suddenly feeling apprehensive. Trinity looked puzzled and more than a little annoyed.
"Let her do what she wants-"
"She's gone to her parents' house," interrupted Morpheus. Neo and Trinity gaped at him.
"Her parents…?"
"Fuck," said Trinity, reaching for her clothes.
Morpheus nodded. "I'll see you on the main deck. Sorry to… disturb your sleep." He left, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Neo glanced at Trinity: she looked very cross. She looked back at him bitterly, pulling her shirt over her head.
"Is it fate that I can't get a decent night's sleep in this place?"
Neo shrugged and pulled on his own. "Probably. I don't know much about fate though."
"Aargh," she muttered irately and raced out of the room, Neo at her heels.
* * * *
She walked down the empty streets, remembering every detail about them with frightening clarity – where the broken paving slabs were, the tiny alleyway snaking up between the main road and side street, the big chestnut tree that was beaten every autumn by children hoping for a monster conquer. Maria's head was spinning. There was so much detail, so many little things that she could recall easily, as if she had only gone away for a few days. There was too much information assaulting her senses for her to properly absorb it. It flittered like a brightly coloured insect in her mind, constantly evolving and changing.
Another firework streaked red hot up to the sky, accompanied by whoops from an unseen crowd. Maria's steps slowed down to a halt. She was standing at the end of her road, the road she had been brought up on. A group of teenagers stood someway ahead, laughing and cheering at the bonfire burning in the park opposite. Maria could actually see her house from here, something she had never really noticed before she had been unplugged.
The house was draped in darkness. Light could be seen through the front doors glass window but it seemed dim, shrouded in a thick, smoky haze. The whole house seemed to be drenched in grief.
Her heart beating painfully fast against her ribs, Maria started towards the house, vaguely aware that the teenagers were watching her curiously as she walked past. She supposed that she must have looked a little odd, grasping hold of the garden wall beside her in an effort to propel her feet forward, staring intently at her parent's house. It didn't occur to her that her outfit was slightly out of place here: young girls did not usually wear entirely black outfits in the small town. It looked for a moment that one of the girls might say something to her, but there was a loud cheer from her companions: the Guy had been thrown onto the bonfire.
Maria came to her old garden gate and quickly unlatched it, fearing that if she stopped moving for even a moment, her nerve would fail her.
What are you nervous of? she scolded herself. They're your family, you wanted this. They're not exactly going to turn around and say, sorry we don't want you anymore – Deciding that she didn't want to pursue this train of thought any longer, she marched up the gravel path and rang the doorbell. There was a moment's pause, long enough for her heart to try to leap out of her mouth. She saw a blurry shape through the rippled glass. It blocked the light as it reached the door and opened it wide.
Maria made a small, squeaky noise at the back of her throat.
The figure stood in the doorway, frozen, hand clutching the door handle. Her mother; who looked paler, more fragile than Maria remembered, stared at her blankly for a moment. It was only an instant, but Maria suddenly knew, as surely as a tiny part of her had known that this entire exercise was pointless because it was not her real mother, that she had never known her real mother, would probably never know her real mother, she knew that it had been a mistake. The fireworks shrieked and the teenagers outside screamed and she had been wrong about them too. The sounds that had comforted her, the lights that had made her feel that for a moment, one glorious moment, that perhaps this was real, were frightening, war-like.
Gunpowder plots. Torture. Burning. That was what this night was about, and Maria's blood burned in her veins, with sadness, anger and humiliation. She should have known, should have realised that this world could not hold any real meaning for her anymore, that nothing was real. And yet, she felt more real here, hands and feet frozen with the cold, blood boiling in her veins, then she had ever felt back on the Neb.
Maria knew that she should speak, should say something to this woman called mother, but no words would emerge. What could she say? Words seemed too vapid, they were not enough to explain what she would be allowed to, let alone what she wanted to say. She stood, unconsciously mirroring her mother's expression. Lips slightly parted in a thousand different questions, eyes large and round, reflecting the harsh light of the fireworks and the warm house lights, skin pale but flushing with blood slowly.
They stared for an eternity, or at least long enough to make the other people in the house curious as to the silence at the front door. Maria could hear the sound of people moving in the next room.
"Maria?" whispered her mother.
Maria gulped. Still no words would come. She nodded and tried to crack a smile. There was a flurry of footsteps, and her father and uncle appeared behind her mother in the hallway. Her father grasped her mother's arm; or at least he tried to, but caught her sleeve instead, looking like a small child clutching its parent's clothes in fear. Her uncle goggled at her, dark eyes blank. A firework exploded outside, shattering the oppressive silence for an instant.
There was something pitiful in that scene. Three grown men and women standing, clutching at each other, like children in a darkened room. Maria had the sudden dizzying sensation that she was more in control than the people she had once relied upon, that she knew far more than they could ever, she knew the truth behind this world. Morpheus had once told her that knowledge and truth gave wings to the mind, but she did not feel free. She was crippled, broken with it and now she had splintered any chance of freedom in the real world because she would see this scene imprinted under her eyes for the rest of her life. Guilt for the people and life she had left behind, the pain she had caused and for what? Her own happiness? She had never once considered the implications for the people she knew, how they would feel about her choice. Her motives had been entirely selfish, and she had made it worse by coming back. Now she would either live her life in the Matrix, knowing but never speaking the truth or going back, and causing the people she loved even more pain.
Maria shut her eyes and felt white-hot tears build inside of her. Everything had been ruined. There was no going back, not to either world. She knew too much about them both, how both felt and looked, how the real world seemed a dull copy of the Matrix because the Matrix was like a beautiful, terrible dream. It was how the real world should be but was not, would never be because humans and machines had destroyed it.
Arms enveloped her and she sank in to her mothers embrace, sobbing. She gave herself up to her tears, and allowed them to consume her. She did not think but only felt the way her mothers tears soaked her shoulder, the way her father squeezed them both so tight that she could not breathe, felt the vibrations of her uncle's footsteps as he circled around them, perhaps trying to take it all in. She heard the fireworks and crowds outside, but it did not frighten or concern her now.
There had been no right or wrong decision, but the only one she felt that she could have made. She was home.
For better or for worse.
* * * * * * *
Please r & r!