A note from the Hime no Argh herself–
Thanks as always to those who are reading/reviewing, it's really appreciated. Hope you'll continue to do so. ^^ This is probably my favorite chapter out of the whole fic, hope you enjoy.
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## UNAUTHORIZED USER LOGON @ 11:57 PM 10.2.92
SENT MESSAGE @ 11:58 PM 10.2.92
redqueen: I know you're out there. Please, help me.
SENT MESSAGE @ 12:02 AM 10.3.92
redqueen: Please.
## UNAUTHORIZED USER LOGOFF @ 1:36 AM 10.3.92
* * *
Days passed, then weeks. I didn't hear from Morpheus.
Every day I went to work, and every night I went to the club or stayed home and joined hacker circles, all in the throes of a hallucinogenic drug-induced state. I became more self-destructive, carving little marks into my skin with a small razor. The pain distracted me from the crushing loneliness I'd felt since meeting Morpheus face-to-face.
One night, I sat at home trying to choose from a veritable feast of drugs and cutting. At some point I glanced down and realized that I had carved, on the underside of my forearm, a jagged, bloody M.
I flipped out and underlined the M with a deep and long gash. For a moment there was only sharp, stinging, razor pain. Then the blood came in a rush so fast that within moments my arm was drenched in scarlet. Shrieking with delight, I ran to the bathroom for a roll of gauze. It became a race to see if I could stop the flow before I died of blood loss. Within moments the gauze was soaked, but I continued wrapping the wound and in a few minutes, no more blood soaked through. I was lucky I hadn't hit any big veins.
The weight of pain and horrible, soul-killing loneliness came over me again. I went back to my desk and picked up the razor, fully intending to kill myself this time. Then Daffodil butted against my legs. She was hungry.
I fed her. I returned to the computer. I logged on and typed blindly, a message of anguish and desperation.
"I know you're out there. Please help me. Please."
I waited more than an hour, but there was no reply. At last I shut the monitor off and flung myself into bed.
I was awakened some hours before dawn by the jangling of my phone.
"Yeah?"
"Hello, Trinity."
I bolted upright. "Morpheus!"
"I'd like to meet with you again. The Sumer Hotel downtown. Can you make it?"
"Yes. Yes, I'll be there."
The phone went dead. I put the cradle down. A hotel again–briefly I wondered if he wanted sex, then decided I didn't care either way. I wanted to be with him, no matter what. I threw on a black leather ensemble that I would normally have worn to the club and headed downtown.
He met me outside the hotel. "Come with me."
"I thought..."
"Just a meeting place."
We walked, shoulder to shoulder, through the abandoned city streets. The sky was slowly beginning to lighten, but the workday had not yet started. I didn't speak and neither did he. It was enough, for me, just to be in his presence. Perhaps he felt the same.
After some time, however, I started to grow anxious, and the silence became unbearable. "You didn't contact me for so long."
"Yes, I know. I apologize. It wasn't safe."
"Why not?"
"You were watched."
"Watched?" Paranoia swept over me, acute and incisive. I had to look around to make sure we weren't being followed. "By whom?"
"Agents. Up until about a week ago they were keeping you under regular surveillance. Then they stopped. I believe they decided you were no longer a threat."
"I don't understand."
We stopped walking on a bridge high above the cold, broad river. Before I could pull away Morpheus had my wrist caught in his grip. He pushed the sleeve back, exposing the bandage around my forearm.
"They probably think you are experiencing deluded fantasies and will kill yourself soon anyway." I watched him dazedly as he slowly drew his shades from his face, revealing warm brown eyes filled with something I had little experienced–compassion. His large hands unwrapped the gauze. "You're so close to the edge, Trinity. When will it end? How will it end?"
His fingers brushed over the M on my forearm. His brow furrowed as he looked at it, and he traced the mark with his thumb, slowly and gently.
"D-don't." I realized I was trembling, and I tried to pull away. He held my arm gently but firmly in one hand, and the other he closed over the wound, as if he could absolve all the pain and suffering and loneliness associated with it.
He watched me levelly, with no pity in his eyes, only empathy. I realized there were tears streaming down my cheeks and covered my eyes with my hand, intensely ashamed.
"I need you, Trinity." Morpheus's voice was a low, comforting murmur.
"Why?" I half-sobbed the word.
He caressed my forearm gently. "Because you know pain, Trinity. Because you know anguish. This is why you are exactly the sort of person I need by my side. There are many others, all perfectly willing–but they are bright-eyed, hopeful innocents. None of them have suffered as you have suffered. Thus they lack the apathy needed to perform effectively in this war, to destroy friend and foe alike for the sake of the greater good. They also lack the compassion–the humanity–to know what lines cannot be crossed for the sake of anything."
I rubbed my eyes furiously to dispel the tears. "What are you saying? You need me to fight a war for you?"
"In a sense, yes, that is what I'm saying," he replied quietly. "But there is more to it than that, Trinity. Whether or not you believe me, I genuinely want to help you. I want to save you from this world. I want you to live."
"But I want to die," I told him flatly. The edge of the bridge called to me. It would be so easily to just leap off the side and fall into oblivion.
Morpheus tightened his grip on my arm. "No, you don't. You only think you do because you see yourself as weak and incapable. But you have the potential to become an incredibly strong person, Trinity."
Desperately I tried to explain it to him. "It's Eve, don't you see? I have to kill her. She's the one holding me back."
Morpheus cupped my chin, gazing into my eyes. "Trinity and Eve are not separate entities. They are one. You are one. You think the part of you that feels pain is something that can be simply made to go away, but you're wrong." He let go of me and turned toward the edge of the bridge, gazing out at the water. "I was like you once. Alone, afraid, hating myself. That was before I learned that weakness is not a sin. It is an asset, because without weakness to limit us, we cannot find our true strength."
"Ridiculous," I said flatly.
He smiled at me. "You will see, one day, that I am right. Now come with me. I'm going to tell you about the Matrix."
* * *
To be continued.