Jocelyn: I have fixed the ages in my previous chapter. Thanks for pointing that out. I kind of figured 15 or 16 would have been too young, but it does make sense that the younger the person is, the easier it is to let go. Also, the timeline is Pre-Matrix and Pre-Neo, not long after Trinity was unplugged. It's in the summary in Chapter 1.

Lanaya: I can't remember where I read that, but they'd have to keep the Neb really sanitized wouldn't they? Also, they don't eat sugar, which lowers your immune system. Hopefully the story will be good. Thanks so much for your support!

Callyfin: *smiles* Wow. I would have loved to have written for the movies. They're the best! Thank you so much!

Yay! Reviewers make my day!

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Andy and Larry Wachowski, the geniuses behind the Matrix and I have no claim over them. This story is for entertainment purposes only and there was no money made off the writing and or posting of this story. The chapter titles are also lines to the Evanescence song, 'My Immortal', which I think went with the story really well.

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Chapter 2: Suppressed by all my Childish Fears

"Why can't I come too, Erica?" Quinn whined, trying to keep up with her teenaged sister. Her nine year old legs couldn't carry her as fast yet. Angrily, her sister turned, her two friends standing and waiting at the end of the path to the house.

"You're too young. Go back inside Quinn!"

"No! Why do you always get to go out and do stuff? I want to come too!" Quinn stomped her feet, crossing her arms angrily. Erica shook her head and walked down to the end of the path, opening the gate angrily and slamming it shut before Quinn could get to it. One of her friends handed her a cigarette, which she took gladly.

"Go back inside the house Quinn!"

"Erica!"

"Get back inside!" Erica shouted, pointing at the house. Quinn's bottom lip quivered and she angrily bolted back inside the house. The thirteen year old turned back around and received the light from Linda Horne, on her left. "Brat." She said flippantly as she smoked on the cigarette.

"How do you put up with that?" Grace asked from her left side, as she tossed and tousled her bleach blonde hair before putting the cigarette to her lips.

"She's such a brat." Erica replied sadistically, blowing the smoke into the air as they walked down the street. "I hate her."

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Trinity turned over again on the mattress, heaving dryly once more. Her stomach was in agony, the muscles only bringing up dry heaves now. Her last attack lasted for what seemed like an eternity, and brought only bile and a bit of stomach acid that made her throat burn.

Morpheus was practically attached to her, trying to lower the high fever that was causing her to shiver and tremble violently. It had been two hours, he had counted the minutes in his head, and the fever was showing no signs of breaking. Her hand tightened on the sheet and blanket covering her, trying to pull it closer as she trembled. The captain noticed her relax. He grabbed the cup of water again, expecting her to try in a small sip, but she raised a hand in protest.

"No." She said quietly, coughing again. "It's a waste."

"You have to try."

"It's nothing but heaves." She explained silently, swallowing hard against her throat. It was pure torture for her to even think about it. She raised a hand to her forehead, wiping the sweat off again with a heavy breath. Everything was starting to hurt. She coughed, holding a hand over her mouth as she tried to clear her trachea of the phlegm threatening her breath.

Morpheus looked at her hand and pulled in a shaking breath. The green mucus was a bad sign. He watched as Trinity finished her coughing attack, visibly getting weaker. She pulled in another shaking breath and was forced into another fit, this time leading her close to convulsions.

"Easy Trinity." Morpheus said, a sense of worry in his voice as he held her steady. The woman continued to cough, forcing the bacteria out and into her hand. Small amounts of bile were evident as well as she moved back shakily, her hand laying limply out of the covers. "Just take it easy." He soothed, running a hand over her back.

Trinity calmed, breathing slowly and drinking in the cold, sweet oxygen. She allowed her muscles to go limp against the bed.

"I can't take much more of this." She admitted painfully, moaning against the pain in her stomach as it started to heave again. Morpheus helplessly watched her heave over the side of the bed, able to do nothing but keep a steady hand on her back and one of her shoulder for support. The heaves stopped a moment later, a thin line of bile moving from her lips as she spit it out, disgusted. Morpheus helped her lie back down, smoothing the blankets back over her.

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Sneaking back inside the house was a huge adrenaline rush. Getting out was so simple. Her parents would be so drunk by the time she got home that they wouldn't care whether her curfew was 10:00 or 4:00 in the morning. Getting back in was the real fun.

It was easily three o'clock in the morning, judging by the moon since she didn't have a watch. Her system filled with cigarettes and a small amount of alcohol from the party, the thirteen year old bounded up the tree like a monkey, swinging to her window and carefully sitting herself on the sill. Erica had bypassed the main level, able to hear her parents fighting as she approached the house. She slid her fingers between the sliding window and the sill and pushed upwards, opening the link to the inside of her bedroom.

Erica clambered inside, closing the window quietly as she crept to the door. The early morning argument was on, somewhere downstairs. Her parents were both fighting about something forgettable like money, or the children, or the mortgage, or either one of them being useless.

They're both fucking useless, Erica thought as she peeled off her clothing and slid into her pyjamas. The argument was escalating as did so, the sound of broken dishes easy to hear through the weak floorboards of the house. The thirteen year old pulled the hair clips out of her hair and moved back to her bed on the right hand side of the room. She buried herself under the covers, trying to block out the sounds of her father screaming at her mother.

As she tried to drown out the sounds of her bickering parents, she could hear a new sound coming through the walls. From Quinn's room. There was a small creak as she heard the girl's door being closed and then the sound of sobbing. Childlike sounds as the young girl tried to keep herself quiet from the noise downstairs. In fear. Erica had once started to cry when she was 6 at her parents' fighting.

Her own father had broken her arm.

Erica tried to assure herself that any second Quinn would fall asleep. Any second the nine year old brat would lie back down, realize there's nothing to worry about, and just go back to sleep.

Any second now…

The universe didn't seem to be able to hear her. Quinn's sobs had slightly amplified. The argument was quieting.

Shit.

Erica got up and tiptoed to her sister's room. The lights were on, as the small form of her sister sat on the bed, curled in a ball. Her black curls were covering her face, making her seem very surreal. Erica put a finger to her lips.

"Shut up!" She whispered loudly and harshly, making Quinn look up. Her eyes were poisoned with tears, each of them moving down her face. The whites of her eyes were practically red. The feud continued to rage downstairs as Erica turned out the lights and came to the bed. The desk lamp was on, a bluish hue moving over the walls from the lamp shade. Quinn said nothing, just buried her head in her arms again.

"Be quiet Quinn!" She rasped again. The nine year old quieted, but did not raise her head from her arms. Erica came onto the bed, shuffling next to her sister and moving an arm over her shoulders.

"Please be quiet Quinn." She begged. "If you be quiet, everything will be okay." Quinn shifted closer to Erica, hugging her tightly. It first scared the thirteen year old, sitting there with her sister in her arms. But then she relaxed, taking her younger sibling in a hug.

They sat there for a time, Erica rocking the small child back and forth. Quinn seemed to stifle her cries a little, breathing deeply. Erica hushed her again, hearing the argument quiet down. She heard the front door creak open and slam, making her jolt a little.

"What's happening?" Quinn asked. Erica listened. She could hear her mother downstairs whimpering.

"Dad's gone." She said finally. Quinn looked at the door. The nine year old curled up with her big sister. Erica kept a protective arm over her shoulders.

"Will he come back?" Quinn asked.

Erica could have done anything. She could have lied. Instead, she shook her head. But Quinn didn't seem sad.

"Good." She said softly, listening to her mother downstairs sob. The two girls sat motionless on the bed. Erica looked a little surprised at Quinn's remarks, but she continued to move a hand over Quinn's fragile back.

"I would have killed them for you." Erica admitted. "Either one of them. In a heartbeat." Quinn sighed deeply, falling asleep against her sister's shoulder. Erica bestowed a kiss on her sister's forehead.

"I will always take care of you." She assured the girl. Quinn sniffled, burying herself with her older sister and fell asleep. Erica remained awake, hearing the last of her mother's putrid sobs and the beginning of a very bad life was awaiting her.

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The eighteen year old Erica was lucid again, pushing a blanket off of her. Funny, she didn't remember having a blanket over her when she was shooting up. She also noted her bed had been made, the music was off, the dishes on her desk had been taken downstairs, and the computer was now shut down for the first time in weeks.

Damn it, Quinn. She got up off the floor shakily, allowing her body to adjust a little from the return to the waking world. Immediately, as if on instinct, she moved to the bathroom and reached for her bag of cocaine. Her finger gripped nothing.

Someone had removed her stash.

The anger was quick to rise inside of Erica as she stormed out of her bedroom and down the stairs to the upstairs level. The whole house was quiet, the eerie blue of twilight coming in through the windows. Outside, snow was falling to the Earth in some sort of magical way. It enchanted Erica temporarily, but nothing would spare the person who took her stash that wrath of her anger. Not even Mirada would be safe from her if she got her hands on her.

She saw the woman's door closed, and went to it, shaking the handle a little. The bitch locked the door, great. Erica growled and tried opening the door again and again. Miranda was either asleep or getting the shotgun she slept with on the wall. But there wasn't a sound from inside the room. The eighteen year old pounded on the door angrily.

"I hid it in the kitchen." Erica turned, as Quinn stood in the hall, carrying her sketchbook under one arm and her digital camera in the other. "Under the silverware drawer."

Erica said nothing as Quinn turned and moved back down the hall. She opened the door to her room and shut it quietly, as the eighteen year old moved down to the kitchen.

She yanked out the silverware drawer, dropping it to the ground with the clatter of spoons, knives, and forks. She felt around and grasped the small baggy with her cocaine in it. Erica sighed deeply in satisfaction as she ran back upstairs to her room, clutching the bag childishly. She trotted up the attic stairs and into her room, sitting on the floor cross legged.

The white powder took a second to prepare before Erica snorted a whole line. Immediately, the artificial happiness of the drug took over, making her lay back on her floor and laugh softly with a smile on her face. The drug was like a parent to her, taking her by the hand and telling her everything was going to be alright.

She climbed onto her chair in front of the computer, the glee coming from her as she swallowed hard. Her nostrils burned from the powder that had moved up through her nose. Particles of residue made her sneeze, before wiping her nose on the back of her hand and then turning on her computer. The monitor buzzed to life, coming up to her password. She typed it quickly, her usual range of programs starting up. As soon as the Internet connected she was on MSN, seeing who was on.

Linda was on, but marked as away. Knowing Linda, she was probably with some guy, making a live broadcast of all the bedroom activities. Trinity didn't care anyways. It was getting tedious hacking small websites, stealing files and money. It was beginning to bore her.

I need a real challenge, she decided, thinking about it in her drugged mind. Some government agency. Something big.

Trinity's fast fingers moved over the keyboard at a lightning pace, never missing a beat. She finally grinned at herself, and quietly thought three letters to herself.

I.R.S.

Quinn moved silently down the stairs and set about picking up the silverware drawer. She could just see her sister upstairs, sniffing a line of that shit. Why she had stolen the bag off her Aunt she'd never know. All she knew was that she had to help Erica. That was her only task in life. This was it.

She put another spoon back in the drawer.

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Well, questions? Comments? Constructive Criticism that can make the story better?