Title: Alter Ego
Author: unwinding fantasy (formerly Aqua Phoenix1)
Disclaimer: The Matrix and any such related material is property of the Wachowski brothers and Warner Brothers. I claim ownership of nothing.
Rating: K+

The Matrix rain poured down from the Matrix sky, drenching the Matrix city as Matrix lightning flashed overhead. For all its artificiality, the Matrix looked, smelt, tasted and sounded real. And it felt real. Oh, it definitely felt real!

Thomas A. Anderson the saviour laid amongst this mess of ravaged concrete and earth, sprawled on his back staring blindly heavenwards. And above him loomed Thomas A. Anderson the rogue, sneering in disgust at his weaker counterpart. It made him nauseous to even contemplate his connection with this pitiful human, and when he realised exactly what feeling ill meant, he only felt sicker. There was a time when he would have enjoyed watching this man suffer, but he was past that now. All he felt was an immense loathing for the weak creature that was as much a part of himself as his characteristic suit and tie.

"Why do you even bother, Mr Anderson? Is it for freedom? Love? Could it possibly be for peace?" He spat that last word as if it were poison on his lips, face twisting into utmost contempt. The rest of the Worm, his copies, stood menacingly at the top of the crater, identical looks of disgust plastered all over them.

Struggling to breathe, Neo managed to force himself off the muddied ground, rolling groggily into a half kneeling position, but he did not answer his own question. He simply stared down into nothingness, not fully taking in the scene, every movement revolving around the need to breathe. Often he had wondered why he expressed such concern, what it was that gave him the strength to carry on. At one point he would have said Trinity for she seemed to justify everything in his mind but Trinity was gone now, wasn't she? Never again would he see her sparkling blue eyes. Wouldn't he give anything now to hold her, kiss her… to tell her he cared.

But… why? To tell the truth, he didn't know the answer. That was why he was asking himself, wasn't it? To tie up loose ends, to rectify the matter. As the Oracle would say, he had already made his choice but if he wanted to see past the choice he had to understand it. The why was what gave power in this digital world. The why was something his alter ego had never come to terms with.

"All illusions, Mr Anderson."

Love wasn't a mere fantasy -- it was more real than anything Neo had ever felt. And on the other end of the scale exiled program Agent Smith v 2.0 was exhuming hate, the very notion of it consuming him. Neo wanted to curse, wanted to scream out loud, to tell his other half the truth, that he too was caught up in false purpose, that he had accomplished nothing by becoming that which he hated most. But the man suppressed his anger, for he knew that the former Agent of the system wouldn't hesitate to kill him. He had done it before, he would do it again… only this time the One's demise would bring far more severe consequences.

I can't let it happen, Neo thought furiously. Despite what his opposite said, the survival of the human race was important; they weren't just batteries to be used then thrown away at will. And their purpose certainly wasn't to die. Smith had said it himself: whatever happens, happens for a reason. Death was merely the end of a journey, not the ultimate goal.

"Why, Mr Anderson? Why do you persist?"

With immense difficulty, Zion's last hope clambered to his feet; body bruised yet face filled with conviction. He had known the answer all along; it was just a matter of remembering.

"Because I choose to."

Smith couldn't believe what he was hearing -- were his input-output carrier signals malfunctioning? Sheer rage overwhelmed him, shattering his once apathetic composure as he lay to rest any doubts there may have been about his hatred towards humanity and he charged towards an unsuspecting Neo whom was still regaining his energy. Time seemed to slow to a standstill, honey pouring from a jar, as the two destined enemies, different yet the same, yin and yang, positive and negative, collided in an all-or-nothing duel. Bereft of sunglasses, ice cold fire clashed with bottomless hazel strength, the two opponents matching each other strike for strike, unrelenting. It seemed as though they could continue this macabre dance forever.

Neo narrowly evaded yet another of his antagonist's blows and, seizing the opportunity, drove his fist in for the counterattack. This one connected hard, sending an irate Smith flying into the crater wall where he seemingly vanished into the newly created chasm, whilst a half surprised Neo subconsciously backed up a few steps, anticipating the sentient's return. Sure enough not a minute later, Smith re-entered the fray, erupting from the depths of the earth.

"This is my world! My world!" Smith bellowed not unlike a madman, his perfect suit tarnished, mud oozing onto the ground. Flying towards his opponent, he managed to catch the disbelieving Neo off guard with a powerful body slam that thrust the Anomaly headfirst into the mud. He did not get up this time.

Thomas A. Anderson gulped back the putrid bile that had risen in his throat. With enormous effort Neo shifted into a position where he could properly view himself. If he was going to die he would do it honourably, he vowed staring up at the Virus defiantly. The click click of impeccably polished shoes resonated throughout the pit, immersing Neo's senses with the surreal sound. All he could hear, all that mattered, were the shiny black shoes, Death's shoes, coming to claim him. I'm dying, he thought, even though it didn't feel like dying. For one fleeting moment, he considered giving up, but the moment passed and he knew he could never do it. Trinity would never forgive him.

Smith landed a few paces away. As soon as his feet met with solid ground, he advanced upon his mirror image once more, obviously wasting no time with the task at hand…

And suddenly stopped.

What is he doing? they both wondered.

"Wait. Wait, I've seen this." The ex-Agent's voice contained all the glee of a child who had just received a lollipop, whereas his dirtied chestnut coloured hair glued to his head gave him the ghostly appearance of an undead skeletal creature. "Yes, you were lying there and I stand here and… I'm supposed to say something, what do I say?" A moment's pause, barely distinguishable from his usual calculated drawl. Then, "Everything that has a beginning has an end, Neo."

Thomas A. Anderson's eyes widen in morbid shock as he realises what he has done. And what he must do.

"What? What'd I just say?" Smith is questioning himself more than anyone else. Even though he knows well the answer. Feeling somewhat rejuvenated, Neo clenches his fists and slowly, miraculously, rises to his feet. For the first time in his entire existence, Agent Smith knows true fear.

"You were right Smith. You are always right," Neo, jet black hair slick with Matrix rain, confirms. The words are definitely not flattering; they don't even come close to a compliment. For Smith, they are like a requiem.

"It was inevitable."

The first thought that enters Smith's mind is that's my line and then he feels the blood pulsating through his veins, feels the sweat on his brow, the unshed tears in his eyes, and he sees himself in Neo. He feels like screaming, like cursing, for once he wants to be wrong, to tell his flip side the truth: that he has accomplished nothing by becoming that which humanity wanted him to be. He wants to tell Neo that he's still not free, never will be; neither of them will be. And although it's perfectly illogical, he can't help but say, "It's a trick!" even as a little voice whispers in the back of his head denial.

Neo almost feels sorry for his brother. After all, they are the same.