ScullyasTrinity: I was afraid I would have to kill of Wraith, but I will leave the imagination to do its worst on his character. Perhaps he was fired by Morpheus. Hmm…not sure. And here…(gives her a glass of milk) Now you no longer have to provide your own milk.

Emerald3: Here is the second last chapter, and I know how you feel. I really don't want to quit writing, but all good things must come to an end and I would rather end here, with everyone loving it then end with everyone hating it.

Protectress of Dalidon: Well here's the update, and it was neither soon nor late, so I suppose it works out okay in the end. You're making me an award? Have another cookie! I don't deserve an award!

Alocin: I have decided Quinn's fate, and in some ways it is tragic but in others, it prevents her from becoming the next Michelle Trachtenburg and from Trinity suffering too much more psychological torment! But that's all in the final chapter wrap up!

EVERYONE DESERVES ALL THE COOKIES THEY CAN EAT!

Disclaimer: Wachowski's. Enough said.

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Chapter 11: And I Held Your Hand Through All of These Years

Mrs Porter called up the stairs again, finally hearing Erica traipse down to the main level in her coat and boots. Miranda said nothing, still angry about the bruise on her shoulder from their fight yesterday. She stuck to a simpler phrase, saying only, "You're five minutes late."

Erica sneered, lips and teeth clenched in anger at the sight of her Aunt alone. She reached in her pocket and pulled out her car keys, going straight out the front door and down the porch steps. She was careful on the icy walkway in her heels. Miranda's eyes watched from the door before shutting it.

She drove down the street, watching the sidewalks for her slow moving sister. She caught sight of the uniform clad girl, head hung low as she tried not to slip in the elegant heels Miranda had purchased for the new school year. She had been planning to go to the Public School not far from their family's home, but Quinn was forced into the Catholic School at the last minute. Erica pulled next to the sidewalk and rolled down the window.

"Get in." She ordered impatiently. Quinn ignored her. Erica stopped the car and honked the horn. "Get in or I'll run you down."

The younger of the two grabbed the handle roughly and opened the door, sliding inside. Her skirt came up on her thighs, but she pulled it down uncomfortably as she threw her bag into the bottom of the car. It was already in the minuses, and Quinn was only a sweater. She hugged her arms to her chest. Erica turned on the heater for her, although pretended not to notice. Quinn looked at the floor. For a while, Erica just stayed parked on the side of the road, saying nothing and barely regarding her sister's presence.

"Did Miranda send you?" Quinn asked bitterly. Erica put the car into drive and pulled away, taking her anger out on the road rather then trying to snap at her sister. "You should just stay in your room."

"Look, Quinn, you can baby me all you want. But if I have to baby you, you should just shut up." She didn't say 'want' in her final statement. She replaced it with a 'have', as if it were some unwritten obligation to pick up her sister. Quinn sat there, spitefully silent and wallowing in her own self pity. Erica dropped her offensive edge. "You want something to eat or…something?"

Quinn shook her head no, watching her sister speed through a STOP sign. She uncrossed her arms, playing with her silver thumb ring as Erica breathed deeply.

"We never talk anymore." Quinn admitted, looking up at the road. Erica glanced at her, looking back at the road.

"We never talked." Erica countered, not bothering to turn on her signal as she turned down the road. Someone honked and she just honked back. Quinn looked out the window longingly. Erica glanced at her again, before looking back at the road.

"I killed Mom." She said.

"You didn't kill Mom."

"You weren't there. How do you know I didn't?"

Erica couldn't believe that this conversation was persisting.

"Can we have a conversation about something other then death, Quinn?"

"Why haven't you ever been to her grave?"

"What is this, an interrogation?" Erica nearly drove into the lane next to her, taking out a small convertible who honked angrily. She pulled back into her lane as Quinn shot a dirty look at the opposite driver.

"Why haven't you been to her grave?" The younger sister demanded. Erica angrily skidded to a halt and pulled over into the parking lane, nearly causing a five car accident. Erica pulled the car into a parking spot and stopped short.

"Look, if you want to talk, we'll talk about anything. I don't care if you want to spill your guts on fucking school." Quinn's eyes were locked with her sister's, the words from Erica's mouth making her shake with anger. "But I will not be bitched at to go and look at that woman's grave. Get it?" Quinn was frozen. "Get it?" Erica asked a little louder, as her sister nodded. She got back in her seat, watching traffic go by. Quinn looked out the passenger window again.

"Wanna go dig up her body?" She asked sinisterly. Erica put on her turning signal.

"And do what?" She asked.

"Burn it."

Erica gave an exasperated sigh, pulling into the lane next to her.

"Nice weather, huh?"

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The lights on the graveyard were such that Erica and Quinn could only see a few paces in front of them, if even that. Shovels were in their left hands and Quinn had a gas can in her left. Erica felt as if this was an immature way to act, and knew for a fact that supporting his sister's desecration of their birth mother's corpse was a crime against so many laws, but she no longer cared. Quinn was a big girl now. A bit strange, but a big girl. And maturity was no way for her to act when her own mother physically, emotionally, and verbally abused her.

The moved off the path, walking over graves without any remorse for the people underneath them. Quinn moved forward quickly, finding the spot where the funeral had been by memory alone. She immediately looked at the tombstone. Her blue-grey eyes lowered and she thrust the shovel into the dirt, the case can dropping to the edge of their digging area.

Erica didn't need a reason why. She breathed out a puff of white cloud, shivering in the cold night as she and her sister continued to dig.

"She was a bitch." Quinn spoke clearly, tossing another shovel full of dirt over her shoulder. Erica nodded, pulling up another shovel full. "I wish I did kill her."

"We can't have everything." Erica said, striking downward at the dirt.

Quinn and she were sore by the first foot, their arms protesting in throbs of agony. Still, they persisted, watching their coffin sized hole stretch down another foot, and then another, until they struck down at the same time, hitting the solid surface of their mother's final resting place. They looked at one another, the nearly identical sisters continuing their journey. The final layer of dirt was removed, and they hopped out of the hole, sitting on either side.

"Should we open it?" Quinn asked, holding the gas can on her lap. Erica watched the hole, believing she saw her mother screaming at them to go back to bed.

"No." Erica said. "Just as she is." Quinn nodded, opening the lid of the gas can and started to pour.

The smell was intoxicating, splashing off the smooth surface of the coffin and hitting their shoes. They lifted their feet out, bathing in the scent for a moment before Erica pulled out her lighter and made the small flame, the only light in the darkness. Quinn brought out her digital camera, nodding at her sister who dropped the flame.

The two ran in separate directions as the orange glow hit the gasoline. There was a snap and a bright light engulfed them, heat moving over their backs as they turned and watched their mother burn. Erica felt completed somehow in watching that, her sister moving back to the scene of the crime and flashing pictures as the cheap coffin lid burned to ashes.

Quinn sat down at the edge of the hole, her skin glowing orange. Erica walked around to her side, slumping next to her on the cold grass.

"We're always on other sides of the coffin aren't we?" Quinn murmured softly, as if reciting some poem. Erica put an arm around her sister, sitting there near the coffin. "Now we just need Miranda in that hole."

"Keep dreaming." Erica said, feeling her sister's head on her shoulder.

"Would you kill for me, Erica?" Quinn asked as Erica patted her shoulder and ran her fingers through the girl's hair.

"I'd think about it." Erica replied, feeling the curls under her fingers. "Why?"

Quinn maybe didn't have a response, because she said nothing after that. Erica just watched the smoke rise into the air of their mother's bonfire.

"I'd die for you." Quinn finally said. Erica didn't say anything.

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Trinity felt sick to her stomach. It could be the lack of food, but she was sure after her first introduction to the food on the Neb that it could be the intake of food that made her nauseous. She sat on her bed, legs bent to her chest.

It had started with the flu. And now the memories were haunting her, begging her to remember. She was stunned at how irritating they were, always bugging her to remember and remember and remember. That day in the cemetery was the first day she and her sister had smiled in a long time, while the scent of burning corpse filled the very air they breathed. And now, the memories were happening faster, adding up to the day that she left.

She felt like she had betrayed Quinn somehow by leaving. Like leaving her on the country road was wrong. Well, Amnesty International would tell her it was wrong and she was convinced that her betrayal was killing Quinn and herself. She could ask Morpheus at any time to let her go back in and have a heart to heart with her sister.

But she and Quinn never talked. They just questioned each other of secret intentions and odd, morbid thoughts that they produced. Heart to hearts weren't in their criteria of sisterhood.

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Miranda had tried to convince them to go into therapy after their mother's death. Quinn was so screwed up she nearly sent the psychiatrist into therapy, and Trinity remembered finding the pictures of the doctor shivering in the corner of the mental institution in her sister's sketchbook. She could picture people as they were.

Erica was frightened when she'd found Quinn's sketchbook of her. From the earliest moments, the faded black cover housed the pictures of Erica over the years from the pathetic stick drawings to the progression of her art. She had drawn the suicide over and over again, the cuts mesmerizing her. The older sister flipped through the pages, seeing her eyes stare out of the next page. The smudges of charcoal over the next made the whole scene seem real, like she was looking into a window of her life.

She slammed the covers shut, dropping the book back on the coffee table. Quinn walked in from the kitchen, watching her sister leave. Clutching the book to her chest, she sank onto Miranda's couch and lay back, hugging the lasting impressions of her sister like a lifeline.

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Trinity knew Wraith was outside the door just as it open, knowing his forwardness better then anything. He just opened the door, allowing it to open in front of him. Morpheus always had a hand on the door, never allowing it to slide. Winter knocked, unless she was angry, and she was only ever angry at Wraith. As for Switch and Cypher, then never opened her door. They were too busy with other stuff.

"You miss her, don't you?" He leaned against the doorframe, saying it as more of a statement then a question. Trinity didn't say anything as she just sat there. Wraith, sighed deeply, walking inside and closing the door behind him. He sat on the bed next to her. "It was real wasn't it?"

Trinity gave a small 'humph', feeling the rough mattress compress on where he sat. She felt his hand on her shoulder, reassuring her of his presence.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No." She put it bluntly, shutting him out, hoping he would leave. Wraith took his hand away, sighing deeply. He shrugged a little.

"I always heard it was easier to deal when you talked about it."

"Well I don't want to talk." She snapped back. "That's all it is with you people. It's just talk, talk, talk."

"You and Quinn never talked?"

Trinity's patience was wearing thin. It was one thing for her subconscious to grill her about Quinn. It was a completely different thing entirely for Wraith to do it. But she finally dropped, too exhausted to fight back.

"No, Quinn and I never talked." She said, sighing deeply. Wraith crossed his arms, listening to her. Trinity remained curled up within herself.

"You must have had some sort of interaction." Trinity shook her head. Wraith pouted his lip, shrugging again.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me." She demanded. Wraith sighed deeply, looking over at her.

"You just seemed really…close, that's all." Trinity looked away, staring at the floor. Wraith said nothing. He patted his knees.

"Look, I'm don't mean to press you." He said, standing up off the bed and dusting off his lap, getting the wrinkles out of his pants. Trinity looked at him. "Morpheus once told me that you can't get someone to confess something to you that they haven't confessed to themselves yet."

"Go away." She said quietly, burying her face in her arms again. Wraith nodded, moving to the door.

"Just one more thing." He said, looking at Trinity as she didn't move, no longer acknowledging him. "I don't think she blames you. And she wouldn't blame you if you went to talk to her."

The door closed. Trinity stayed there, feeling the waters of her insanity rise over her mouth as she started to drown.

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Erica lay awake in her bed, unable to sleep. Downstairs the house was empty. Her parents had stopped hiring babysitters after Erica's eleventh birthday. She had yet to see any money come from the shit of a job they called babysitting. Quinn practically raised herself.

She could hear the front door open and the shouting that followed. It was the first time in their relationship that Tom and her mother had fought about anything. Erica groaned, pushing the pillow over her head and started to sleep, closing her eyes.

Her eyelids opened immediately with the pounding footsteps up the stairs. Erica felt her blood run cold as the hallway was filled with Tom's alcohol stench. Her mother was screaming downstairs, telling him to get his ass back down there. Tom moved to the stairs and shouted some curse at her mother, before walking back down the hall.

Erica heard Quinn's door open and the sounds of his footsteps going inside. Tom shouted for Quinn to wake up. Any other ten year old would have screamed if their mother's boyfriend came into their room and shouted. Quinn was silent.

There was a slap, followed by Quinn's scream. A second later Tom was shouting blue bloody murder. Erica got out of bed, running into the room as Tom threw her sister onto the bed. His eyes were glazed with intoxication and he snorted at Erica to leave.

The older sister didn't move, frozen in the doorway. Tom came at her, as Quinn jumped onto his back and he landed on the floor as she punched him in the back of the head. The drunken man threw her backwards, Quinn fighting back sobs as she connected with the wooden bed frame.

Her mother's shouting enraged her more. Erica bolted into her own room, grabbing the first weapon she found. The letter opener glistened in her hand in the faint light coming from outside as she ran back in.

Quinn had kicked him in the crotch with her heel and was moving to the door. Tom grabbed her ankle, hurling her to the floor. Erica screamed out in anger, as he stood to meet her, dropping Quinn. She thrust the letter opener into his thigh, feeling the blood drip down her fingers. Lightning fast she grabbed her sister's hand and pulled her out of the room and down the stairs. Her mother was on the couch, crying and screaming drunkenly.

Erica grabbed her mother's purse. She was leaving. And she wasn't coming back.

Quinn stayed close, as her sister dumped the contents of the purse onto the ground. The car keys tumbled out, landing on the carpet. She heard the pounding of Tom's footsteps on the stairs, moving downward. Erica grabbed the keys, dragging Quinn out the front door. They were halfway down the steps when Quinn was yanked back and thrown onto the porch. Erica turned a second too late, her arm grasped firmly in Tom's hand.

"LET ME GO!" She shouted. Quinn was on his back again, digging her nails into his neck. Erica tried to yank her arm away as Tom batted at the petite sister on his neck, latched on for dear life. She yanked one last time on her arm.

SNAP!

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Trinity shook herself awake, pushing herself up and off the bed. She fell back down, realizing she had slept on her arm and it was limp beneath her. It suddenly flared to pins and needles and she closed her eyes, breathing heavily. It was so long since she had thought about that night when she had first attempted to run away.

She thought she had seen blood stains on Quinn's fingers, but it could have been the way her head interpreted the blur of events that followed. Her mother getting her into clothes rather harshly and may have added to the way her arm had broken. But Quinn's hand had barely left her wrist, studying the way the arm was snapped with some sort of infant like enthralment.

LEAVE ME ALONE! She ordered mentally, closing her eyes tightly and curling up on the bed. Just go away and leave me alone!

She felt her arm come back, but the soft fingers of her sister's grip still remained there on her wrist. Trinity was growing angry, and finally got up and walked to the Core.

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