Title: Being Moved

Author: ScullyAsTrinity

Rating: R, implied sexual situations... implied Lisa? Or implode?

Category: Romance, angst

Characters: Neo, Trinity

Spoilers: Just for Matrix.

Summary: A short vignette, Trinity POV, set after I Want To Be Moved, to be followed up and completed.

Thanks: To Divamercury and Bisse for reviewing! You guys ROCK!

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Trepidation. It's not a dream anymore; you're here in front of me, in the flesh. You're as human as any human can be while within the Matrix. As you stand there, leaning, attempting to blend into the wall, I feel a hot flush brush upon my cheeks. You're so much more real here. I could reach out and touch you if I wished, but that is not my mission now. My mission is to bring you in.

Check yourself, check yourself Trinity. Take a deep breath of this simulated air. Clear your head of these thoughts and think business. Business.

As I inch toward you, the leather that clings to my body stretches and groans, protests against me moving towards you. In, out, in out. I can do this, I'm good at this, and this is what I'm here to do. Besides, Tank, Djoser and a slew of crew members are on board right now, gauging my every move. It wouldn't be wise to show any emotion right now.

I move in for the kill, so to speak... and you sense my presence. Turning to face me, a silent thrill runs through my body as you give me the once over. No pleasantries, down to business now. When you cannot hear what I'm saying I move in closer, far too close I realize after I begin to speak. Sirens are going off in my head, telling me to move back, saying that if I don't things could go very wrong. This is what I'm known for, keeping emotions and hindrances under wrap until my mission is completed.

I speak, words tumbling from my lips, taking on a brash, poetic quality. My voice falls a notch below normal and comes out much silkier than it should. It flows. But as my lips move, my ears and my eyes begin to pick up certain nuances. I can hear your labored breath panting harshly in my ear. The hot breath sliding from your lips washes over my shoulder and bathes it in a fine sheen. You is so close, I am so close. My eyes skim the side of your face. So pale, like marble, like purity. Then they plummet downwards and settled on your neck, they flit back up to your ear. My heart must have fluttered; my breathing must have become more labored because I can feel you looking down at me. I find myself pondering the taste of this skin that is not two inches in front of my face.

But I am done, and must move away. Your eyes, before I turn away, lingering touching mine and I feel so primal, so needy. And yet, I walk away. I've been moved.

Days and days and days of watching you sleep. Being in your cabin as you doze, watching your face relax up close and marveling at how you look like a child but dream like a man.

Days of brushing my fingers upon my lips and longing. Days of knowing that my skin is hotter than it should be, my eyes more dilated.

Hours upon hours of watching you train, your body moving in ways I've never seen. In ways none of us have ever seen. Honestly, it is spectacular; you have such a strange power over all of us. Some of us have become entranced. I have not, I am simply waiting to see just how much I have to undergo before the prophecy comes true.

Briefly, I begin to speculate how it will feel to be touched by you, simply touched. Your hand upon mine perhaps. Your palm against my back, warm and yielding. Will I be able to maintain my composure if you lay your hand upon me? Will I be forced to return the gesture or shall my mind conjure up a reason for me to turn and run?

For now, I am stone. I am stone until I am moved.