First off, I'd like to say Happy Birthday, Carrie-Anne! This is dedicated to the lovely actress who is being portrayed in this short story, since it is her birthday.

Another (more realistic) dedication goes out to Ttlg. She deserves this token of recognition, however small it may be, for all of the inspiration and support she has given me.

Secondly, I'd like to warn all those girls out there who tend to cry a lot. Go get a tissue. This is a sad, morbid story dealing with semi-adult themes such as killing and death, hence the rating.

Now, for all of you who would like to know the reason I haven't posted in quite a long time. One word. Band. Marching band is hard and time-consuming. This week we had practice Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday with an all day today, which I really should be getting ready for. Don't look for anything new for a few more weeks, either. This is the year my grades really count, so I have to dedicate all of my time away from band to studies. I'm just posting this today because, as I've mentioned once or twice before, it's Miss Moss' birthday.

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. Except my Trinity boots.

I'm not sure where the idea for this came from. I was in a bad mood so I sat down and wrote. This is what came out of it all. It seems some of my best work is done as therapy. Trin's PoV.

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How many nights have I just sat in bed with a blanket pulled up to my chin and stared at the wall, thinking how I hate my life? I'm a killer, though most would argue that it is all for a good cause. I have the blood of so many on my hands, yet I feel nothing. No remorse, no fear, no injustice, nothing. I learned the hard way that to feel pain over the lives you have taken will be your downfall. One has to be cold, closed, to do what I do every single day. We're just as bad as the machines we fight.

At first it disgusted me. The moment I was unplugged after my first kill I ran to the lavatory and vomited the contents of my already empty stomach. The second and third, even on to the twentieth, were not much different. The veterans on the crew patted my back as I knelt at the toilet, telling me it was normal to feel this way. They said that soon I would get used to it. This in and of itself made me feel sick to my stomach all over again. Then one day I lost count of those lost from my bullets and blades and it stopped affecting me as greatly. Don't get me wrong, I still didn't like to kill, but I had realized it was a necessity. Nowadays I don't hesitate before I pull the trigger to end one more pitiful life. I didn't notice how hallow it made me until too late.

I became good at what I did. Those in and out of the Matrix feared me, whether it be for my trigger-friendly fingers or exploding temper. I gained a reputation as being the ultimate soldier, along with a few of my most respected colleagues.

Then I saw one of my crewmates killed, his head blown off by bullet. I almost snapped. But I didn't. I steeled myself even more, and watched tearlessly as other friends were mercilessly massacred. This coldness toward the world got me promoted. How twisted it all is when you think about it. Me watching as those I lived with blown to pieces and becoming the second-in-command to who I think is the most respected captain in the fleet. Ha.

With this new position, I must never, ever let my determination flicker. Every move I make is watched, whether by my captain or his superiors or the people I work so hard to protect. One slip-up and I face a very hard hearing. To keep this from happening, I locked myself tighter. No more opening up to my crew, no more becoming attached to them, being friends. I was loathed by some, called arrogant and selfish. Selfish. That one always got me. I was called selfish when I was the one risking my life for others. But just as I was disliked, I was also respected, called fearless and trustworthy.

I'll never forget the day I saw the Oracle, a while after I was freed. Love. Now there was something I had never really given much thought to. Even before I became the ruthless killer wanted in twenty-odd countries in the Matrix, I was never one to go around trusting people. Maybe it was because the boys in my neighborhood growing up liked to behead all the pets and leave the bodies on your stoop. Or maybe it was because my uncle once removed was a murderer. Whatever it was, I was raised - by caring parents, mind you - knowing that humans were not to be trusted, much less loved.

With that in mind, I brushed off this story, this prophecy as just that - a myth. How could I love someone? It wasn't in my nature. I mean, just look at me! My security was taken from feeling a gun in my hand! That fact was set in stone by all that I went through to be who I am today. Cold, closed, hallow, arrogant, selfish, fearless, trustworthy. All so different, some not even me, but it's who - what - I am.

I guess it's ironic that the captain I served was probably the only person actually searching for the One. We found tens of potentials, all either dying or going insane. I never felt anything for any of them, and I never expected to. It was with a good bit of annoyance that I allowed myself to be dragged from bed late one night to see the newest prospect. My superior had been so excited, so sure of himself. I had sent him off to sleep, seeing that this lack was going to cost him later. I spent the rest of the night watching the code, watching you.

Days and weeks passed. Of course Morpheus told the rest of the crew that this was it. We had finally found the One. For once, I felt my heart tentatively come to terms with this. As I spent more and more nights watching you, I felt those walls slowly come down brick by brick, the mortar being eaten away by an emotion I had no name for.

It was during this time that Switch took advantage of my deteriorating defenses, so to speak. We talked, and she became my first real friend. By opening myself to her I was inadvertently letting myself become more open to you - or to be more correct, my feelings toward you. But also by doing this, I was breaking more than half of the rules I had set for myself all those years ago, and I felt immensely guilty. I was a grown woman, yet I found myself so confused with the world around me that I felt like a child. This was something no spar could cure me of.

Then came that fateful day when I actually saw you for the first time. You were walking down the street on your lunch break, completely oblivious to me. But I was completely aware of you. You were the epitome of innocence, in my eyes. You had not seen this cruel world for what it was, had no idea of what could happen to you at any given moment. Yet you knew. Like me when I was in that position, you knew that something was not right. That's what brought attention - both good and bad - to you. That's why we had to get you out.

Once I had laid eyes on you, I went back in whenever someone was needed to watch and protect you. Switch noticed it before I did. It took her 'words of wisdom' to enlighten me. I had fallen for you. By now I had broken all the rules I had set and this time there was no guilt. Deep inside, I knew this was it. You really were the One. Everything was just as the Oracle had said. My heart knew it, I just had to convince my stubborn mind, which kept making excuses for these emotions.

Weeks went by before the captain gave the command to finally free you. He sent me in first. I talked to you through the machine that was your life, told you where to find me, though not in so many words. I was there when you walked in. I watched you converse with those you came with before they left you to dance and mingle with others. I watched you lean against the wall. I watched you for longer than necessary before I made my move.

You felt my presence when I was a few steps away. Our eyes locked. I could practically see the wheels turning in your head as you warily regarded me as I approached. It empowered me when I saw that flash of recognition - of respect - at my name. I offered you all that you needed in way of information, leaning enticingly close. Close enough to feel your heart pounding, to smell your thick scent. As I was walking away, this time with your eyes on me, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was in love with you.

No one, not even Switch, knew what the Oracle had told me. My main concern was to hide my feelings toward you, not to let anyone see anything different in my work or attitude. At first this was easy. They were used to the way I secluded myself and saw nothing new as a reason. I couldn't let them see this weakness in my mental barricade. The last time anyone had found a weakness I was used quite horribly, but that's another story. I buried this love so deep inside that it took your sudden demise for me to admit it, even to admit it openly to myself.

Laying here now, pinned to the floor by metal rods through my arms and abdomen, I can see how foolish I have been. I wonder what would have happened if I had let my heart rule those few days after you were freed. Perhaps we could have been together longer than the months we were. All I know for sure is that I was never happier than in those months. You showed me a whole side of myself I never even knew existed, filled the holes I didn't know I had. In the short time we had, I didn't hate my life. I had something real, someone real, to fight for now, a reason to survive the day just so I could make it to the nights with you.

I will miss you terribly, but I know this time there is no coming back. This is the end of my life. I don't know what waits for me now, but I am not afraid. I've never been afraid of death. Quite ironically I've lived around it my entire life. I had just hoped mine would have been less…painful. The man I'm leaving behind can't even hold me in his arms one last time, being restrained as I am. I'm glad he only felt one of the many bars through my body; it will make my parting a bit easier on him.

I can feel my hold on this world slipping quickly away. All I want from you now is one last kiss, just one more. I know you're hesitant to give me this request. I ask again and I see your resolve crack. I watch as you lean your face to mine and close my eyes for the last time as your lips lower to my own. I barely have released my breath when my soul departs. Even as I leave you, leave my broken body, I hear your sobs. They echo around the small room. And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you love me, too.