Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. They are all property of the Wachowski brothers and Warner Bros.

Busy, busy, busy. But thank goodness I'm on leave now so I'll have a little time to write. I'll try to wrap this up. Oh, Mara Trinity Scully, thanks for all your lovely comments. The reason why I'm not a shipper of anyone in particular in the Matrix series is a very shallow one. The only ship I've ever liked for Keanu Reeves is the one with Sandra Bullock 10 years ago in Speed. I thought they had great chemistry and nothing ever held a candle to that for me to this day. .

Anyway, I stink at Greek names. Seeing how the W brothers borrow names from mythology, I've decided to do the same. Check out the homage paid to Greek mythology, the Illiad and even Season 3 of Xena, Warrior Princess.

Chapter 8: The Power of Three

Rated PG-13.

The woman flickered a look at Neo, still keeping her arrow trained on the brigand leader, and averted her gaze back to its focus. There was no sign of recognition in her eyes.

'I'll cut you a deal, Dahak,' she said emotionlessly. 'You let the boy and his father go, and I'll let you live.'

Some of the men tittered at this. Dahak smiled and spread his palms. 'Twelve of us and only one of you. You have always been bold, Trois. Do not underestimate my affection for you for foolishness.'

'It doesn't matter what my odds are or how many men you have.' She bent the belly of the bow with the drawstring and narrowed her gaze. 'This arrow still has your name on it and if your men move against either the boy or me, I'll let it fly. And what matters is you'd still be dead. Life means a lot more to you than it does to me, my beloved. Are you willing to take that risk?'

Neo held his breath. Beside him, Hermes held tightly to his hand, making no sound. The woman and Dahak locked gazes for what seemed like an eternity.

Then Dahak bowed with a flourish. 'Very well, you win this round, Trois. But I will take the horses, the cape and the jewelry.'

'That should keep you out of trouble for a while,' Trois replied. She beckoned to Neo and Hermes to get behind her.

They watched the brigands collect their possessions, bridle their horses and turn to leave. 'They're taking Wind, father,' Hermes whispered, gripping Neo's arm. The boy was very attached to his horse.

'It's all right,' Neo whispered back. 'We'll get him back one day, I promise.'

'Don't bet on it,' Trois, who overheard them, interjected. She turned her dark blue eyes on them, especially on him, to size them up. 'You're not from around here, are you? Richly dressed for these parts. Foolish too, I gather, if you go around wearing jewelry like that.'

'Do I know you from somewhere?' Neo found his heart beating fast. He suddenly realized he did want to know this. Very, very badly.

Trois ran a speculative eye over him. 'I don't think so.' She smiled mirthlessly. 'You would have remembered.'

'Yes, I would have.' Neo held her gaze. 'Was that your lover? Boyfriend? Are you an outlaw yourself?'

'So many questions. The sky darkens unfortunately, and I have to be off.'

She turned to walk away.

'Wait,' Neo said. 'We are lost, and my son is frightened and hungry. We owe you for saving us, and if you'll let us come with you, I'll find a way to reward you richly.'

Trois stopped in mid-stride. She made a striking figure in the dappled sunlight, Neo thought, like a sleek raven amidst the green-gold of the forest. Her angular bony curves, the proud tilt of her head - it was as though he had known it from memory. As though he had caressed the pale flesh beneath the black leather jerkin, and kissed those eyes that were now staring at him in bright blue repose.

He was aware he was extremely attracted to her in a way he had never experienced before, not even with his wife, the most beautiful woman in the queendom.

By the gods, what was happening to him? He was a happily married man with two children. And yet, this attraction he had for Trois seemed so..right. Like the way it was meant to be. For one revelatory moment, he suddenly grasped the meaning of soulmates.

'Very well,' she said. 'But only because of the boy. Quickly now, before he comes back.'

'Thank you.' Neo grabbed Hermes's hand and fell into stride with her. 'Before who comes back?'

'Dahak. My husband.'

So he was not the only one with complications.

'My name is Neo,' he said, meeting her gaze, wondering if his name held any meaning for her.

'I know,' she said simply.

*

They spent the night in Trois's modest hut because the southern winds had blown in a fine old storm from the sea. Neo knew Persephone would be scouring the ends of the earth for him and Hermes, and he felt terribly guilty for putting her through this. He hoped she wouldn't take it out on his guardsmen - she was an extremely fair monarch - but despair and frustration often led people to do ruthless things. Nevertheless, they would be in the nearest village by tomorrow, and he would be able to send word to her.

There was another reason for his guilt. The urge to act on his attraction was overwhelming. When he had tucked Hermes in the little makeshift bed Trois had made for him in one corner, he sat down with her at the fireplace to talk.

'You know who I am,' he said as a matter-of-factly.

'Yes.'

'Does that bother you?'

'It's the reason I saved you. 'Twould be a pity if you had to die before finishing all the things you said you'd do for the common people.'

He smiled grimly. 'It's a never-ending job. That would include cleaning up after folks like your husband.'

She shrugged. 'Makes no difference to me. We're separated.'

'Any reason in particular?'

'Irreconcilable differences.'

'You're not one for small talk, are you?'

'You're a married man.'

'And you don't make small talk with married men?'

'I see the way you look at me. Things can be...complicated.'

Was he that obvious? Then again, perhaps he was. He had never been too good at hiding his emotions, especially when they showed in his eyes. He knew he hadn't fooled Persephone for a minute, even after all these years. She knew he didn't love her as she should have been loved, wonderful wife and mother that she was.

'Are you offended? The fact I'm attracted to you?'

'No.' Her blue eyes were trained upon him steadfastly. 'It's flattering. And dangerous.'

Yes. He knew about the danger. But he couldn't help himself. For the first time as far as he could remember, thoughts about betraying his wife were crowding his mind. He had never been tempted before, but now - well into his middle age and the rest of his life - he felt a stirring in his heart matched only by that in his loins. It was a joyous emotion, one of summer and bright meadow romps, almost as though he was beginning to live for the very first time.

Then again, there was Persephone. She had done nothing to deserve this, but he couldn't help the way he felt.

Taking Trois's hand, he said, 'This may seem foolish to you, seeing as we've just met, but it's like I've been searching for you all my life. And now that I've found you, I think I'm in love with you.'

After a prolonged pause - and he was certain he had frightened her off - she lowered her eyes, seemingly unable to meet his. 'I know. And somehow, that doesn't surprise me.'

In shock, he realized she was as attracted to him as he was to her. The concept of soul mates and whatever he had discussed with Patroclus suddenly took flesh and became corporeal.

'So what do we do now?' he asked, more himself than her.

'I don't know. I guess that's entirely up to you.'

*

Since the day he came back ten years ago with Hermes in tow, tousled but safe, she had known. It was in the embrace he gave her when she swept into his arms after having her search patrols comb the entire countryside for him all night. She had been worried sick for both her son and for him, and when she held him again, vowing never to let him out of her sight again, she could discern something had changed. It was in the way he averted his eyes, the way he kissed her and made love to her later that night, with a sprightly gusto of a man half his age, as though he had been infused with new life.

As the months went by and he seemed to lose none of his vigor, she had sent Patroclus to trail him.

'Please, my Queen,' Patroclus had said, his face clouding, 'don't ask me to do this. He is like a brother to me.'

'That is why you have his confidence. If you love me, Patroclus, you would do it.'

And so he had. He had come back with reports of a dark-haired woman in the woods. When he had described her, Persephone felt her body stiffen all over. But surely -

She had to see this woman for herself.

'As far as I can tell, my Queen,' Patroclus said, 'they are not having an affair. He visits her. They take walks together and they talk. But their relationship is completely platonic.'

'Even you cannot see everything that goes on behind closed doors, Patroclus.'

Patroclus shook his head. 'Believe me, my Queen. I have been in this business most of my life. I have my ways. They have not been physically intimate, though I cannot comment on what goes on within their hearts.'

That was what she feared the most. If it had been pure lust, she would have been able to handle it. So she had hidden herself in the forest to look at the face of this woman for herself. Although she had prepared herself for it, the shock of seeing Trinity revealed again - or at least an aberrant program who looked, talked and moved like Trinity by some amazing computer glitch (or kismet) - was nothing short of terrifying.

How in the world

(oh my god she's haunting me)

had this happened? The odds were a million to one, unless the sim world program - being too large and unwieldy, almost as though it was a part of the Matrix itself - had run through its database of all known humans, and being unable to come up with any more preconceived manifestations, had adopted their forms and faces. Then again, perhaps there was something more to it, a kind of revelation here or some divine power at work, allowing her no escape from her trespass. It was as though the god of the computers was taunting her - 'You knew it was wrong to steal him away from her, and yet you did. So here is her revenge. She will take him back, in one life or another.'

It was like some sort of cosmic joke, and Persephone was more frightened than amused.

For a moment, she wondered if the real Trinity had hacked into her perfect sim world, and decided she had not. The warning scanners she had set all round the periphery would have gone off, and as of now, the world was still intact. No. This was a sign. And for the first time, Persephone began to wonder about the existence of a higher force.

She had allowed them to carry on, wondering if some deep, dark part of her reveled in this self-punishment. She was aware of how easy it would be to have Trois incapacitated, or even deleted. But her years of living with Neo and her children had changed her, filled her with an empathy she had not known possible, and she knew killing Trois was beneath the person she had now become, no matter how much their relationship wounded her.

It was all up to him now. She would not, and could not, do anything.

'Come back to me, Neo,' she whispered to him in his sleep. Outwardly, his relationship with her and the children had changed little. He still spoilt Demeter to death. He was still as proud of Hermes's scholarship skills as any father would be. And he was still the kind, attentive husband he had always been, only he was now more fulfilled. More complete.

Was it so wrong to want that for him?

So for ten years, she watched them as they all aged together, knowing that she deserved this somewhat and suffering the only way she knew how - in silence. In all that time, his relationship with the woman from the woods had never descended into a physical one, and for that, Persephone was grateful. Even when faced with the greatest challenge his heart had ever known, Neo remained faithful to his wife, noble till the very end.

How she regretted what must happen now. But she had no choice.

TBC

P/s: Hee hee, I'm finishing this story soon. Like it? Dislike it? Drop me a note.