Ghost opened his eyes as soon as Sparks pulled the plug from the back of his head. He glanced at Niobe; the Captain hadn't spoken at all on their way back to the exit. It began to worry him; not that Niobe was the most talkative person alive, but she wasn't usually this quiet. Subconsciously, Ghost knew that something the Oracle had told her was worrying her. He sighed, realizing that it was useless to think about this in advance – they would find out soon enough.
He got up from his jumpchair, his eyes following Sparks who jumped quickly back in the operator's chair. He had kept himself busy downloading the data Niobe had brought with her to the Construct; it was now being transferred to their ship's mainframe computer. Ghost looked back at Niobe once more; her face was telling him as much as nothing. She was perfectly expressionless, her eyes fixated on the monitor in front of her. She rubbed the back of his head where the main plug was; Ghost noticed that she would always do that when she was troubled; for some reason he didn't understand. But each time she did that, he knew something was about to happen.
As soon as 'Transfer complete' flashed on the monitor, Niobe stepped closer to the station and nodded at Sparks to load the data. Ghost folded his arms on his chest, occasionally glancing at Niobe out of the corner of his eye.
Sparks leaned back in his chair, and looked at them. "Well? What the hell is that?"
Ghost didn't take his eyes off of the screen. "A map."
The operator rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Mister Obvious, I can see as much. But why on earth would we need it? I can give you maps of every pipeline that's ever been scouted in these sewers faster than you can blink."
"Not one like this. I think these are places we should avoid. These scans are… weird, though." She said, pointing at another monitor. "It's nothing like what we have."
"At least this confirms what we already know. There's a strong electromagnetic field in here, but…" Ghost broke off, frowning.
Niobe looked at him, almost mirroring his expression. "But according to this, right now we're in the middle of it."
Sparks threw his hands in the air, shaking his head. "We can't be! This can't be accurate."
Niobe raised an eyebrow, and shot him a serious look. "Sparks, compare this map with the scans, and with everything our sensors managed to pick up. I want to see how accurate it is compared to what we have."
Sparks sighed. "Not that I think you care for myopinion, but we're getting into something we shouldn't. I mean think about it, what can we do?"
"I don't know yet, but I know what youcan do. Exactly what I told you, and you'd better hurry. I want to know before we go." Said Niobe, turning to Ghost. "Come on. Let's get back to the Hammer. We need to get moving."
*
They turned on all the lights. The dark, gloomy sewer lit up in an instant. The warped shape of the Hammer appeared in full view; Ghost thought that in this darkness, and at a distance, it resembled a faint memory of a nightmare he had once dreamed. Or perhaps it wasn't just a dream. He shook it off; but the haunting memory kept growing on him. He watched the ship with a thoughtful look on his face. He folded his arms on his chest, as if shielding himself from the cold; but the truth was that he didn't even feel it. It seemed as if he was back in the time when the Logos was brought back to Zion. The wave of memories was overwhelming. It had kept on growing, welling up in him, until it reached the point where he just gave in to them, and let them pass at their own pace rather than fight them. Fighting seemed in vain anyway.
Everyone gathered at the dock. Even Lock. They said here and there, that now, as the machines had retreated back to the surface and seemingly weren't a threat anymore, the Commander had been considering giving up on the military life. They said he was done. Perhaps he was; it didn't matter how much of it was true. The only truth was that the war had changed everyone; though not equally.
Hundreds of people. Ghost thought that was what it must have looked like when the people of the last human city were preparing to make their last stand against the machines. Just that back then, in their hearts there surely was fear, as was in his own – mingled with determination, and hope. Now, it was replaced with grief and distress. It had dimmed the joy of victory.
He remembered the dock when they had made their return to Zion, in the middle of the furious battle. He remembered it afterwards, too; though now the memories appeared veiled, as if it all had happened much longer than merely three months before. The bodies. The damage. The aftermath had humbled everyone.
They rejoiced. For a while. And then the harsh smell of blood and burning hardware brought everyone back to reality.
He remembered walking among hundreds of people, who were looking for their loved ones among the fallen. He didn't fully understand his own reasons for being there; he wasn't sure what kept bringing him back to the destroyed dock. He had no one. He wasn't looking for anyone, nor was anyone looking for him. He wasn't looking for comfort, either. He felt it more somewhere on a subconscious level – that there was a reason, that he had to be there. He rather sought to give it to others, even though not completely intentionally.
There wasn't much he, or anyone, could do. Lay a gentle hand on a crying mother's shoulder. Give a sympathetic nod to a wife crying over what's left of her husband's earthly being. Shake hands with grieving sisters and brothers and children of another fallen soldier. Help a child carry the body of his father to the crematorium, as he wouldn't let the ground team take it away.
They all had sold their lives to a purpose, hoping the outcome would serve the generations that were to come after them. Ghost understood it, and yet the overwhelming sorrow that lay about the dock struck him hard. And it struck him how little time they had for their grief. There was work to do, that wouldn't let them carry their tears anywhere else but deep in their hearts.
Most of the bodies were cremated. The gardens would have had to be twenty times bigger to host all the dead. So, they burned them. Ghost once wondered if the families had even had a chance to keep the ashes. It was highly doubtful; he found it strangely ironic.
He remembered staying near the dock for days. He hoped that one day the gate would open, and the last ship would return home.
He had hoped they survived. Both of them. One day, he realized that he could never provide what Trinity needed, given she were alive, somewhere in the world. He wasn't the One. He wasn't Neo. No matter how much and of what kind of love she had had for him in the past, Ghost knew that Trinity's life depended on Neo's, much like Ghost's depended on hers. And the more days passed, the clearer it was that it was fading. He had been struggling with that thought for a while. But then he thought, perhaps he wouldn't ever come as close to peace as acceptance; but perhaps he could at least try.
And then, at last, the Logos had been carted back to Zion. The last sparkles of hope faded into nothingness, and his heart sank.
He remembered how they brought it in, on a platform. It was covered, and Ghost was glad that it was that way. He remembered a young woman's voice, singing somewhere above them, on one of the rebuilt decks. A mournful song it was, though he couldn't recall much of the words later on. He remembered looking up to see where the voice came from, but he couldn't see through the burning tears.
Many cried openly. Ghost didn't. Not until he realized that he was about to stand face to face with what he had feared. Then, he let the tears fall freely, but he remained unmoving.
He remembered six men surrounding the platform, and as they revealed what was left of the Logos, two hot tears ran down his cheeks. He turned around. He couldn't stand looking at that ship. His mind was screaming that it was real, and that that was the end. He could no longer deny it, nor could he feed his hope. He couldn't tell himself that it wasn't real, as he used to do in the Matrix. The song from above pierced his ears, breaking into his mind.
"And when I come home
Remember me, like I remembered you
Long, so long was the road
It's now yours to conquer, too
And when I close my eyes
Remember my last breath
The light at the end of the road
Will show me the way back home."
He didn't remember how he got back to his quarters. He vaguely remembered Niobe; she caught his arm when he turned to leave before the gathering was over. She said something to him; he remembered that it hurt, but he couldn't recall what it was. It didn't matter anymore; nothing did. It didn't matter that she never meant to hurt him; even hearing another's voice was painful.
He had tried to sleep. During the next three days, he had slept for a few hours, just to wake up, sweating and shivering, from one nightmare after another. He had been trying to find peace in meditation; but his thoughts wandered. His mind kept displaying strange, haunting images of Trinity, the war, the destruction of Zion that had been so near to happen. Then he would fall asleep again, weary from every even slightest movement. The heaviness in his chest turned to dull pain that seemed almost physical; Ghost found himself unable to fight it off.
On the third day he sat upright on the bed, and remained in one position for long hours, still like stone, until the noises outside died out. He shifted on the bed, and looked wistfully towards the door.
She would never again walk through that door. She would never again sit right next to him on that bed. He would never again hear her voice, feel her touch, smell her delicate scent. And yet he couldn't help the feeling that she was still present, somehow, in everything she had ever touched.
That night, for the first time he had gathered the strength to try and put into words some of the things that had accumulated in his mind over the past twelve years. All that he always wanted to say, but what he knew he never could.
"You left me breathless so many times. Each night you left for your quarters, after long hours of discussion, mocking, laughing, fighting, you left me craving more, always more. I remember you saying that you were nothing special. And I remember myself saying that you were wrong, so wrong, Trin. You were, you… are, the most special person in the world. To me, and to all others who knew and admired you, you are. And you will always be.
You know, I had dreams. In those dreams I was telling you all that I could never tell you in person. And I wondered, how come it felt more real when I dreamed than when I was awake. Reality hurt, sleep was an escape. There, you were mine, much more than a sister of mine. There, I could tell myself it was meant to be. That kept me going… the knowledge that I would see you again, even if a long time would pass. I saw joy shining in your eyes when we met, after long months, and I knew it all was worth it. There's nothing more beautiful than holding you in my arms again, even for a brief while, after a long separation. It kept me going… what will do that from now on? I have nothing to look forward to. Nothing. There's just nothing there, Trin.
I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there to save you. I'm sorry I did nothing. I know, it wasn't my path, it wasn't my part to play. Still, I'm sorry. I can't help thinking that perhaps there was something I could have done, perhaps… damn, I don't know. It's all becoming far too hard to grasp. I know you hadn't expected anything more of me than I have done, but I promised that I would watch over you, always. And in the times when I had a chance to keep that promise, I failed. And you slipped away.
I'm no longer the person you used to know, Trinity. I'm a shadow of the man I used to be, if even that. I can't, just can't imagine how life just goes on without you. Somehow it seems that it's going, but I'm standing aside, watching it play before my eyes, and I can't jump back in. I remember our dreams, about peace, about all those things we wanted to do once the war was over. Now, it's all gone. Turned to ash and dust. That dependency is killing me. It feels as if a great part of me died with you, a vital part. Sometimes I feel like I could go… somewhere, anywhere, and scream all this pain out. But instead, I swallow down the tears, and push on. For you. For the sake of all we used to share…
Never thought that being truly alone can hurt this much. I always rather enjoyed it. Now I fear it. I know that the time when I'm alone won't end with you coming here, and it hurts, Trin, it hurts like hell."
A sudden noise behind him interrupted Ghost's train of thought. He turned around abruptly, just to see Sparks jump onto the ground. Sparks' brow furred when he saw the absent expression on Ghost's face.
"Look, mate." He said while stepping towards him, and rested his hands on his hips. "I'm trying my damn hardest to get the hang of your oh-so-burning need to contemplate everything around you. But see, I'm not too comfy with the idea of hanging around here until some big fuckass machine chops my head off."
"It could do us a favor and chop off your tongue, that's for sure."
Niobe stood right behind him, her arms folded, a rather bored look on her face. She passed by the two men, heading towards the other hovercraft.
Ghost's eyes followed her as she walked by. Then he looked once more at the Mjolnir, remembering to focus on the present, not on the past. Still, a quiet voice inside his head was telling him that perhaps it wasn't yet the time to let the past go.
