"You're insane, Solace. You're absolutely insane." The words came fast and thick in between heavy breaths as she pounded down the stairs, not bothering to wait for an elevator. Naturally, it was raining outside. Only dramatically appropriate. She could only hope that he'd had the foresight to stick around and walk out normally, instead of disappearing back into the Matrix.
Why did she even care? It wasn't as though she'd hurt his feelings... feeling... it wasn't as though he had feelings to hurt. Then why did she feel so guilty?
Rain pounded down on her... and she was still in her pajamas. She looked around, back and forth, and finally spotted him across the street.
"Smith!"
Even yelling at the top of her lungs she couldn't hear herself over the water. He did, though. Preternatural Agent hearing, she supposed. He turned around and mouthed crossly at her, "What?"
"You're right!"
"What??"
This wasn't doing a goddamn thing. "Hang on!"
Normally she was adept at dodging cars. Even in the rain she had managed (she was sure) to dazzle Smith with her display of anti-vehicular acrobatics. Today... she didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the strange sleep schedule, the rain, the lingering distress from the attack and the fight and just the confusion of it all. The car slammed into her, and if it had been going five miles faster or if she'd been hit from a different angle, she probably would have been dead faster than you could say 'Operator'
"Oh my god!"
She was lying on her back in the grass... the trees above didn't match the ones in the yard around her apartment... she must be across the street. Funny, she didn't remember hitting the ground.
"Miss.... Are you all right?"
"Solace..."
"Did somebody call an ambulance?"
Hospitals... twice in one week. It was a record for her, in or out of the Matrix. "I'm okay..." she struggled to sit up, then struggled against the rising urge to vomit. "I'm okay."
"You are most definitely not okay."
A weak smile. His tone was more acerbic than usual; he must be worried. "I'll be okay, is that better?"
"Oh my god..."
"Miss..."
"Solace. Her name is Solace..."
"Tremain..." It left her lips before she realized that giving Smith her real last name might not be a good idea. "Solace Tremain."
"Miss Tremain..."
"Do you know where you are?"
"I'm lying..." she finished sitting up. She managed not to throw up in someone's (probably Smith's, the way her luck was going) lap. It was good. "I'm sitting in the grass of someone's lawn, opposite my apartment. It's the ... Eigth of April. The President of the United States is George Bush Junior... unfortunately... and you're holding up three fingers, Smith, thanks."
The press of people withered under the Agent's glare. "You could still have internal bleeding," he continued. "You should go to the hospital."
The ambulance was already pulling up. "Do you... do you want my insurance carrier..." it finally registered that a rather fluttery young man was trying to talk to her, probably the man who had hit her.
"I'll be okay... I have a trust fund that'll cover it... thanks... besides, I don't need to go to the hospital." The last comment was directed at Smith, who was picking her up and bodily carrying her to the ambulance. She wanted to remind him to look burdened, strained, as though she actually weighed something. She kept her mouth shut.
"You need at least to be assessed by the paramedics," he insisted.
"If they say I don't have any internal damage, then can I go home?"
"If you must."
He set her down gently onto the back of the ambulance, where they proceeded to poke her, shine lights in her eyes, ask her if it hurt, poke her some more, run their fingers through her blood-matted hair (she hadn't noticed that cut before), ask if that hurt, and interrogate her for every symptom she could think of and a few more she hadn't known existed. She suffered through it all with eyerolls and half-hearted glares at Smith. The Agent stood there impassively, arms folded, sunglasses off. It turned into a staring contest that the paramedics had to break up.
"Miss!"
She broke contact first, recognizing the futility of trying to stare down an Agent. "What?"
"You can go. Provided you don't go to sleep for at least eight hours, and have someone wake you up every two hours for sixteen hours after that." The medic looked at Smith as he said it.
"I will make sure she goes to a hospital if there is a complication."
The medic nodded. "I'd like her to report to a hospital sometime within the next thirty-six hours for a follow-up."
Smith nodded back. "It will be done."
"Don't I get a say in this?"
"No."
Solace grumbled. "In stereo, yet."
Smith's hand on her shoulder was both comforting and intimidating, and she wasn't sure which feeling was stronger. "Are there any other precautions?"
The paramedic sighed. "That cut should probably be stitched up, but we can do that here ... if you can hold her down for a couple minutes..."
"Hey!"
"Of course." His other hand clamped down on her shoulder.
"I can talk and think for myself, you know," she muttered up at him as he waited impassively for the paramedic to return with a suture kit.
"Apparently not well enough when it comes to your personal health and well-being."
Solace grumbled.
"What was that?"
"I said, grumble grumble."
"You did not."
"You didn't hear me, how would you know what I said?" Actually he would, and she'd called him a fairly nasty name, but she also had the feeling he knew she didn't mean it.
"Be quiet or I will tell them to perform any procedures they need to without anesthetic."
"Ouch."
They were both silent as the paramedic came over and stitched up the cut on her forehead. The hands on her shoulders relaxed as soon as needle touched skin, and towards the end she actually thought she felt him absently massaging her shoulders. Surely not.
"Remember what I told you about staying awake, young lady..."
"I will. And if I don't, I'll be reminded." She rolled her eyes up at Smith, who nodded curt thanks to the paramedic.
"You'll look after her?" the man asked Smith with an attitude that indicated he didn't trust her to look after herself.
"Of course."
"Good." The paramedic closed up the ambulance and left.
The police were comparatively brief, for which Solace was very grateful. She was already starting to feel dizzy and regret her refusal to take a trip to the hospital, however brief it might have been. But she couldn't risk any sort of records that the hospital might create, and she was already in the system enough. She told the officer that it was her own damn fault, there wouldn't be any charges, and finally got the whole crowd to go away.
Everyone, that is, except Agent Smith.
He stood in the slackening rain as she stood in the doorway, dripping wet, watching each other. "Well?" he said finally. "What is it that you had to tell me that was so important you had to..."
"Risk becoming a street pizza?" She leaned her head back against the door and sighed. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. You're right. I was out of line earlier, I was upset and I shouldn't have said what I did. I'm sorry."
He folded his arms across his chest, possibly his favorite position, and said nothing.
Solace shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "So... you wanna come in?"
Nod.
She opened the door, nodded to the doorman (who looked startled) and trudged up the stairs. After the second time she had nearly fallen down the stairs Smith grabbed her forcibly by the arm and dragged her to the elevator. Thankfully, he didn't throw her into it. In fact, he seemed to be supporting her more than anything. He practically marched her to her door, though.
"I'll be okay..." she grumped, leaning a hand against the doorframe.
"You nearly fell twice, and you were walking unsteadily the whole way down the hall. You are far from all right. If you will not rest of your own accord I will tie you to a chair."
She finally got the door open. "Why, Smith, anyone would think you were concerned..."
"You were hit by a car."
"Pshaw. I got away all right."
"You could have internal bleeding. Is that not what you said the last time?"
"Point." She swayed in the middle of her living room.
"Solace..."
"I'm sitting, I'm sitting." Actually she was sprawling, on the couch, head lolled back and eyes half closed. She listened to Smith wander about the apartment, clink ice into a glass. A few minutes later she felt something cold and wet underneath her lips.
"Drink..."
"I know what to do..." His arm slid between her back and the couch, propping her up. She sat forward as far as she could without getting unnecessarily dizzy and drank. "Fruit juice."
"It was the healthiest thing in your refrigerator... and the most likely to stay down."
She nodded, winced, and took another sip. "Good choice."
"Thank you."
His sleeve had to be getting soaked. She could feel the warmth of his arm, his hand, even the texture of his suit jacket through the fabric of her pajama top, rendered almost paper thin from the rain. Once she remembered that it had been absolutely freezing out there she started to shiver... and the movement made her nauseous. "Smith..." her voice was quavering, unsteady.
"Hold it..." he moved just barely faster than should have been possible for a human. When the juice finally came back up it landed in a plastic bucket. He held it under her mouth with one hand, his other arm around her shaking shoulders.
"Thanks..." she said weakly, when she could say anything again.
"Are you sure you are all right?"
She laughed, winced as the taste of bile hit her mouth again. "Weren't you just telling me a few minutes ago how injured I was..."
"Not physically."
She blinked at him. Was he evolving so far that he was compensating for her emotions, acknowledge them, allow for them... "Why?"
"You ran into traffic with something less than your usual dexterity."
"Well, it was raining, and..." she paused. The full meaning of what he was implying sank in. "You think I was trying to kill myself."
He didn't actually look at her as he replied. "It was a possibility."
She took a deep breath. Was that really what she had been trying to do? It would have worked in the Matrix and out. No. Couldn't have been. "Silly Agent Man..." she said finally, smiling just a little bit. "Banish such thoughts from your mind. No, I was just being stupid. As usual."
"You are hardly usually stupid..." It sounded almost automatic. Her smile broadened.
"Thanks."
There was a pause, and then he took the bucket away and poured her a glass of water. She felt something ripple in the Matrix and watched as a bird pecked her window twice... he had probably just erased the vomit out of existence. She set the juice down on the coffee table and accepted the water he brought with relief. It washed the taste of vomit out of her mouth, even if it did wash it back down her throat.
"Are you still feeling nauseous, dizzy?"
She nodded, more slowly this time. "A little. I think it's going away... in very small increments." Solace reached over the table. "The juice is helping, though. Thank you."
It was strange. She hadn't noticed the calm of his eyes... or had she... until she was sitting across from him, forced by injury and exhaustion into staying still. The absolute blueness... not glowing or bright, but faded like a set of comfortable old jeans. Eyes a girl could grow used to, comfortable with. Lips that were practically made for kissing. She didn't notice she'd been leaning forward until they could practically taste each other's breath... and then she pulled back. Vomit couldn't smell good at that close range.
"Whoa..." the sudden movement made her head spin. "Okay. Right. No abrupt movements, no head jarring... and no head explodie. I can live with this."
The moment had passed. She was too tired, too emotionally drained to sustain it, although the desperate and very nearly painful urge to kiss him still lingered on her mouth. He seemed to sense it as well, and leaned back further than he had been before.
"Do you think you can keep the juice down this time?"
She leaned back against the cushions... better the cushions than his arm or his chest... the heartbeat from a heart that wasn't really there. "I think so... just keep me propped up and keep me from going to sleep and I should be good to go."
He handed her the glass, and she sipped the juice, forcing her eyes open. "Would Hegelian philosophy suit to keep your mind occupied and awake?"
Solace blinked. "Hegelian philosophy?"
"I can procure a hammer, if you would prefer."
It took her a second, but eventually she was laughing, albeit carefully. "No... Hegelian philosophy will do just fine."
He smiled.
She stared.
It was a smile. A real, almost entirely heartfelt smile. It even might have reached his eyes, had it gone on long enough. But it had disappeared back into his usual blankness almost before she could register it, leaving her with the impression that she had imagined the whole thing.
"Thesis... antithesis... synthesis..." she murmured.
"Exactly."
The conversation moved on, and he never did explain the comment.
Why did she even care? It wasn't as though she'd hurt his feelings... feeling... it wasn't as though he had feelings to hurt. Then why did she feel so guilty?
Rain pounded down on her... and she was still in her pajamas. She looked around, back and forth, and finally spotted him across the street.
"Smith!"
Even yelling at the top of her lungs she couldn't hear herself over the water. He did, though. Preternatural Agent hearing, she supposed. He turned around and mouthed crossly at her, "What?"
"You're right!"
"What??"
This wasn't doing a goddamn thing. "Hang on!"
Normally she was adept at dodging cars. Even in the rain she had managed (she was sure) to dazzle Smith with her display of anti-vehicular acrobatics. Today... she didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the strange sleep schedule, the rain, the lingering distress from the attack and the fight and just the confusion of it all. The car slammed into her, and if it had been going five miles faster or if she'd been hit from a different angle, she probably would have been dead faster than you could say 'Operator'
"Oh my god!"
She was lying on her back in the grass... the trees above didn't match the ones in the yard around her apartment... she must be across the street. Funny, she didn't remember hitting the ground.
"Miss.... Are you all right?"
"Solace..."
"Did somebody call an ambulance?"
Hospitals... twice in one week. It was a record for her, in or out of the Matrix. "I'm okay..." she struggled to sit up, then struggled against the rising urge to vomit. "I'm okay."
"You are most definitely not okay."
A weak smile. His tone was more acerbic than usual; he must be worried. "I'll be okay, is that better?"
"Oh my god..."
"Miss..."
"Solace. Her name is Solace..."
"Tremain..." It left her lips before she realized that giving Smith her real last name might not be a good idea. "Solace Tremain."
"Miss Tremain..."
"Do you know where you are?"
"I'm lying..." she finished sitting up. She managed not to throw up in someone's (probably Smith's, the way her luck was going) lap. It was good. "I'm sitting in the grass of someone's lawn, opposite my apartment. It's the ... Eigth of April. The President of the United States is George Bush Junior... unfortunately... and you're holding up three fingers, Smith, thanks."
The press of people withered under the Agent's glare. "You could still have internal bleeding," he continued. "You should go to the hospital."
The ambulance was already pulling up. "Do you... do you want my insurance carrier..." it finally registered that a rather fluttery young man was trying to talk to her, probably the man who had hit her.
"I'll be okay... I have a trust fund that'll cover it... thanks... besides, I don't need to go to the hospital." The last comment was directed at Smith, who was picking her up and bodily carrying her to the ambulance. She wanted to remind him to look burdened, strained, as though she actually weighed something. She kept her mouth shut.
"You need at least to be assessed by the paramedics," he insisted.
"If they say I don't have any internal damage, then can I go home?"
"If you must."
He set her down gently onto the back of the ambulance, where they proceeded to poke her, shine lights in her eyes, ask her if it hurt, poke her some more, run their fingers through her blood-matted hair (she hadn't noticed that cut before), ask if that hurt, and interrogate her for every symptom she could think of and a few more she hadn't known existed. She suffered through it all with eyerolls and half-hearted glares at Smith. The Agent stood there impassively, arms folded, sunglasses off. It turned into a staring contest that the paramedics had to break up.
"Miss!"
She broke contact first, recognizing the futility of trying to stare down an Agent. "What?"
"You can go. Provided you don't go to sleep for at least eight hours, and have someone wake you up every two hours for sixteen hours after that." The medic looked at Smith as he said it.
"I will make sure she goes to a hospital if there is a complication."
The medic nodded. "I'd like her to report to a hospital sometime within the next thirty-six hours for a follow-up."
Smith nodded back. "It will be done."
"Don't I get a say in this?"
"No."
Solace grumbled. "In stereo, yet."
Smith's hand on her shoulder was both comforting and intimidating, and she wasn't sure which feeling was stronger. "Are there any other precautions?"
The paramedic sighed. "That cut should probably be stitched up, but we can do that here ... if you can hold her down for a couple minutes..."
"Hey!"
"Of course." His other hand clamped down on her shoulder.
"I can talk and think for myself, you know," she muttered up at him as he waited impassively for the paramedic to return with a suture kit.
"Apparently not well enough when it comes to your personal health and well-being."
Solace grumbled.
"What was that?"
"I said, grumble grumble."
"You did not."
"You didn't hear me, how would you know what I said?" Actually he would, and she'd called him a fairly nasty name, but she also had the feeling he knew she didn't mean it.
"Be quiet or I will tell them to perform any procedures they need to without anesthetic."
"Ouch."
They were both silent as the paramedic came over and stitched up the cut on her forehead. The hands on her shoulders relaxed as soon as needle touched skin, and towards the end she actually thought she felt him absently massaging her shoulders. Surely not.
"Remember what I told you about staying awake, young lady..."
"I will. And if I don't, I'll be reminded." She rolled her eyes up at Smith, who nodded curt thanks to the paramedic.
"You'll look after her?" the man asked Smith with an attitude that indicated he didn't trust her to look after herself.
"Of course."
"Good." The paramedic closed up the ambulance and left.
The police were comparatively brief, for which Solace was very grateful. She was already starting to feel dizzy and regret her refusal to take a trip to the hospital, however brief it might have been. But she couldn't risk any sort of records that the hospital might create, and she was already in the system enough. She told the officer that it was her own damn fault, there wouldn't be any charges, and finally got the whole crowd to go away.
Everyone, that is, except Agent Smith.
He stood in the slackening rain as she stood in the doorway, dripping wet, watching each other. "Well?" he said finally. "What is it that you had to tell me that was so important you had to..."
"Risk becoming a street pizza?" She leaned her head back against the door and sighed. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. You're right. I was out of line earlier, I was upset and I shouldn't have said what I did. I'm sorry."
He folded his arms across his chest, possibly his favorite position, and said nothing.
Solace shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "So... you wanna come in?"
Nod.
She opened the door, nodded to the doorman (who looked startled) and trudged up the stairs. After the second time she had nearly fallen down the stairs Smith grabbed her forcibly by the arm and dragged her to the elevator. Thankfully, he didn't throw her into it. In fact, he seemed to be supporting her more than anything. He practically marched her to her door, though.
"I'll be okay..." she grumped, leaning a hand against the doorframe.
"You nearly fell twice, and you were walking unsteadily the whole way down the hall. You are far from all right. If you will not rest of your own accord I will tie you to a chair."
She finally got the door open. "Why, Smith, anyone would think you were concerned..."
"You were hit by a car."
"Pshaw. I got away all right."
"You could have internal bleeding. Is that not what you said the last time?"
"Point." She swayed in the middle of her living room.
"Solace..."
"I'm sitting, I'm sitting." Actually she was sprawling, on the couch, head lolled back and eyes half closed. She listened to Smith wander about the apartment, clink ice into a glass. A few minutes later she felt something cold and wet underneath her lips.
"Drink..."
"I know what to do..." His arm slid between her back and the couch, propping her up. She sat forward as far as she could without getting unnecessarily dizzy and drank. "Fruit juice."
"It was the healthiest thing in your refrigerator... and the most likely to stay down."
She nodded, winced, and took another sip. "Good choice."
"Thank you."
His sleeve had to be getting soaked. She could feel the warmth of his arm, his hand, even the texture of his suit jacket through the fabric of her pajama top, rendered almost paper thin from the rain. Once she remembered that it had been absolutely freezing out there she started to shiver... and the movement made her nauseous. "Smith..." her voice was quavering, unsteady.
"Hold it..." he moved just barely faster than should have been possible for a human. When the juice finally came back up it landed in a plastic bucket. He held it under her mouth with one hand, his other arm around her shaking shoulders.
"Thanks..." she said weakly, when she could say anything again.
"Are you sure you are all right?"
She laughed, winced as the taste of bile hit her mouth again. "Weren't you just telling me a few minutes ago how injured I was..."
"Not physically."
She blinked at him. Was he evolving so far that he was compensating for her emotions, acknowledge them, allow for them... "Why?"
"You ran into traffic with something less than your usual dexterity."
"Well, it was raining, and..." she paused. The full meaning of what he was implying sank in. "You think I was trying to kill myself."
He didn't actually look at her as he replied. "It was a possibility."
She took a deep breath. Was that really what she had been trying to do? It would have worked in the Matrix and out. No. Couldn't have been. "Silly Agent Man..." she said finally, smiling just a little bit. "Banish such thoughts from your mind. No, I was just being stupid. As usual."
"You are hardly usually stupid..." It sounded almost automatic. Her smile broadened.
"Thanks."
There was a pause, and then he took the bucket away and poured her a glass of water. She felt something ripple in the Matrix and watched as a bird pecked her window twice... he had probably just erased the vomit out of existence. She set the juice down on the coffee table and accepted the water he brought with relief. It washed the taste of vomit out of her mouth, even if it did wash it back down her throat.
"Are you still feeling nauseous, dizzy?"
She nodded, more slowly this time. "A little. I think it's going away... in very small increments." Solace reached over the table. "The juice is helping, though. Thank you."
It was strange. She hadn't noticed the calm of his eyes... or had she... until she was sitting across from him, forced by injury and exhaustion into staying still. The absolute blueness... not glowing or bright, but faded like a set of comfortable old jeans. Eyes a girl could grow used to, comfortable with. Lips that were practically made for kissing. She didn't notice she'd been leaning forward until they could practically taste each other's breath... and then she pulled back. Vomit couldn't smell good at that close range.
"Whoa..." the sudden movement made her head spin. "Okay. Right. No abrupt movements, no head jarring... and no head explodie. I can live with this."
The moment had passed. She was too tired, too emotionally drained to sustain it, although the desperate and very nearly painful urge to kiss him still lingered on her mouth. He seemed to sense it as well, and leaned back further than he had been before.
"Do you think you can keep the juice down this time?"
She leaned back against the cushions... better the cushions than his arm or his chest... the heartbeat from a heart that wasn't really there. "I think so... just keep me propped up and keep me from going to sleep and I should be good to go."
He handed her the glass, and she sipped the juice, forcing her eyes open. "Would Hegelian philosophy suit to keep your mind occupied and awake?"
Solace blinked. "Hegelian philosophy?"
"I can procure a hammer, if you would prefer."
It took her a second, but eventually she was laughing, albeit carefully. "No... Hegelian philosophy will do just fine."
He smiled.
She stared.
It was a smile. A real, almost entirely heartfelt smile. It even might have reached his eyes, had it gone on long enough. But it had disappeared back into his usual blankness almost before she could register it, leaving her with the impression that she had imagined the whole thing.
"Thesis... antithesis... synthesis..." she murmured.
"Exactly."
The conversation moved on, and he never did explain the comment.