Disclaimers: I own none of the characters that you recognize from the Matrix or the Matrix: Reloaded. They belong to the Wachowskis.

Also, in this fic they don't use 'I' 'me' 'my' 'mine' etc. Even when referring to only one of them. I think it adds a certain dramatic effect.

AN: I really don't like this chapter. It started off really good and went steadily downhill from the middle of the second page. But I also feel terrible about getting it up very late. I need sleep. I will probably go back and edit this, because it has nothing in it except dialogue and nothing real important. So, the moral of the story is don't think the rest of the fic will be as terrible as this chapter is, because I've been so busy and I'm trying to transfer this fic from one big plot thing to another. Again, many many apologies.

However thank you for not flaming me on the end of chapter XXI. I appreciated it muchly. I had an urge and I needed to let it out. Sorry. Maybe I'll go back and edit it. But I'll probably DEFINITELY fix this chapter sometime or other.

ThistleDemon: I love baths and candles, but hate caramel. Unless it's in Twix or Milky way, of course ^^

I think I need to clear this up because it's obviously not clear: Smith is STILL an exile. He's just smart and realizes that he'll get the best shot at surviving  if he works for the MI because the MI is kind of……Matrix-Godish.

Oh yes, this chapter is dedicated to Qurrah/Lexxin, who's kick ass RPing rocks my world and Seimiya's, too. And you probably don't know what I'm talking about, but that's alright anyway.

Oh yes, Rykan's char is first mentioned here!

DUAL BIOGRAPHY

Chapter XXII: Empty Space

"Yes, we have The One." I put the phone back on the receiver and look out the broken window.

"We really must fix this." I comment to my brother, motioning to the window.

"Why so?" He responds, "Does it bother you?"

"We suppose so. It disrupts the natural flow of the building."

I can sense the edginess in my own voice, and I can sense it in One's, too. It almost seems as if we're both anxious, but anxiety is a human quality. I don't like it, and neither does he.

I am finally grateful for the rebels' return.  But to my great displeasure, I do not recognize one of the faces that walk in. One of them is Ghost, who my entire being half-respects and half-hates. The other I don't know at all.

//"Do you recognize that rebel, One?"//

//"We were hoping you would."//

"We're here to get Neo," says Ghost quietly.

"Who are you?"  I ask the other rebel.

He bites his lip as he if knows who I am, "Soren."

With that my memory again smacks me in the back of the head, causing a sudden splitting pain. I know this human; he was in my flashback back in that shack. It was him and Binary, a woman.

"We know you."

He nods stiffly, "Yes."

One looks at me with an eyebrow raised, but says nothing. I almost wish he would ask me who that is, to relieve tension that is not only my shoulders, but also floating in the air. We've been distant from each other since freeing him from the MI, and although the timeframe may have been only three or four days, it still feels uncomfortable.

I want to blame Adrian. I want to blame the MI, and Smith.  I want to blame the Merovingian, even. But even as I try to formulate words in my head to say to Ghost, I know that is no fault but ours, but the Twins themselves who have brought this task down. We made these choices.

One's silence is perhaps the most uncomfortable thing I have ever felt. I say this because I've never felt it before, and I never should. I don't know why he doesn't ask how I know Soren, and yet I feel I can't ask why he doesn't question me so. It's not trust; trust fills my being unlike this cold dark mist that clouds my own logic. 

"Twin?"

"What?" One answers, stepping in front of me, "Yes, yes, take The One and be off."

Ghost gives me a careful glance of concern as Soren picks up the unconscious body. I do not look back at him, starting straight ahead. The two leave with the body, and One whirls on me.

"How do you know him? We do not recognize his face."

"We fought him quite some time ago," I respond, blinking out of my trance, "Both of us. It was some time ago. Why did you not ask before?"

One opens his mouth to speak but closes it. He opens it after a second or two, and his words are even and level, "We did not want to interrupt on your thoughts. We could tell you were thinking."

"We were thinking why you weren't asking us."

One nods back at me and his eyes dart away behind the sunglasses. He looks at the window, "We really must fix this."

"Yes." I respond, a hint of a smile on my lips.

"Two?"

"Yes?"

"What are we doing here?"

The question is rather strange to me, and I take a second before thinking about the answer itself, "We are going to live our lives for ourselves and each other."

"Like humans?" There is a layer of distrust in his voice.

"There may be no other way to survive," I respond, "But as humans we may need occupations." 

"For what reason?"

I look at One. His face is marked with an amused curiosity and I wonder exactly how to respond, "Because if we are to fit in with their society we must get occupations much like they do. And plus, the landlord may want us to pay for this place. One can only ghost hunt for so long."

He nods once, understand. I nod back at him and briefly wonder how to find a job now exactly.

Eventually he proves to be more resourceful in that aspect. He picks up a newspaper, and although I cannot see why it is still a newspaper, given the fact it's now a day old. Human flawlessness. He glances through it, shaking his head, and then finally nods. He sets the paper on the coffee table, pointing to an ad.

WANTED

Proficient Martial Artists

Need to be third-ranked black belt or higher in at least two or three forms

Interested?

Call Raikan Prash, 201-833-0783

Email: Fallenagent@hotmail.com

Fax: 201-887-4483

I look up from it and smile slightly. Perfect.  He picks up the phone and hands it to me.  I call the number quickly, hoping someone will pick up.

"Hello?" asks a voice.

"Miss Rykan Prash?"

"Yes, who's calling?"

"Saw your article in the paper and would like to apply."

The voice seems to get happier, "Great! Let me give you the address and you can come over."

"Alright."

"Got a paper and pencil?"

"Yes."

"Alright. You're coming to the White Dragon Dojo, on 85th Street. It's hard to miss. Do you know how to get there?"

"Yes."


"When can I see you, then?"

I look at One, //"When can we meet her?"// I ask him questionably, telepathically.

//"As soon as possible?"// He responds with a shrug.

"Whenever is good for you, Miss Prash." I respond to her charismatically.

"Cool. Umm….is 2:00 good?"

I glance at the clock, it's just about noon now, "Sure."

"Alright, then I'll see you there!"  Her voice in enthusiastic as she hangs up and I do the same.

AN~

Just want to tell anyone not to call or use any of those numbers or email addresses. I made them up and they might actually be someone's.  Thanksies. ^_^