Revelations
Author's Note: I apologize for the formatting—I haven't figured out how to do breaks in between the different portions of my story, and I wasn't keen on the idea of having a lot of really, really short chapters either. As always, please let me know what you think!
After Smith had left her, Bronwyn slid down the wall until she was on the ground. She felt hot tears run down her cheeks, but she didn't have the will to wipe them away.
"Are you alright, dear?" a woman's voice asked kindly.
Bronwyn opened her eyes and in the fading light, and she saw an older African-American woman looking down at her. At the woman's side stood a younger Oriental man.
"No, I'm not alright", Bronwyn answered, her voice shaking.
"Seraph", the woman instructed, "please help her up, will you?"
The young man extended his hand down to her. Bronwyn took it and he easily pulled her to her feet.
"Did he hurt you?" he asked.
"No, he didn't have time. He had to leave suddenly. Wait—how did you know?" Bronwyn asked, looking at both of them in turn.
"We saw what happened", The Oracle replied.
"Do you know him?" Bronwyn asked incredulously.
"Yes, we both do. Which reminds me, will you consider having tea with me today? You look like you could use some comfort and my cookies definitely will go a long way in making you feel better," the older woman said, smiling.
Bronwyn opened her mouth to politely refuse, but the Oracle interrupted her.
"I normally wouldn't ask, but I think you should know some things about Smith. Please. It's important."
Bronwyn nodded her acceptance, and the three of them went to the Oracle's apartment. An hour later, after hearing all that the Oracle had to say, Bronwyn angrily rose to her feet from her where she had been sitting at the Oracle's kitchen table.
"I don't believe you. How can I possibly be pregnant? And how could you already know if I am or not? How is that even possible, it only happened last night!" Bronwyn shouted.
"I am telling you the truth, Bronwyn, You must believe me." The Oracle said.
"No!" Bronwyn shouted. "I'm not going to listen to this nonsense anymore. You are as crazy as Smith is and I'm leaving." She stormed out the door, not even bothering to close it.
"Oracle, we must make her believe us somehow. I'll go after her—bring her back....." Seraph began
"No, Seraph. There's nothing more we can do. She will just have to find out on her own." The Oracle sighed. This one is certainly stubborn, she thought. I can only hope she knows what she is doing. But that doesn't mean that she has to be alone in all of this. She went to the phone and dialed the number of the one program who would keep an eye on Bronwyn and her unborn child and make sure that both were safe, for the time being at least.
Bronwyn ran from the Oracle's apartment building until she was exhausted. She stopped at a corner, trying to catch her breath. Those people are complete nut jobs, she thought. How can they and Smith be computer programs? And I don't even want to know what this thing called "The Matrix" is—it sounds like a bad storyline from a cheesy science fiction movie. That old woman is lying. But why would she lie to me like that? I'm not pregnant. I can't have children, let alone be carrying Smith's child—the whole idea is completely insane. She moved her hand over her womb. Can it be true? Can I really be pregnant? If I am, what in God's name am I going to do now?
Desperate to get out of sight, she hailed the nearest cab and went home. She fell on her bed and cried herself into a deep and dreamless sleep.
The next morning, Smith watched from his car as Bronwyn left her apartment building. He put the car in drive and followed her at no great distance; his black sedan blending seamlessly with the Sunday noon-day traffic, yet still keeping a close watch on his prey.
He waited as she went into a small marketplace and came out a short time later with a grocery bag in either hand.
Only when Bronwyn left the relative security of public sidewalks in favor of a short cut through a parking garage, did he leave his car and pursue her on foot.
His attention was so focused on not losing sight of Bronwyn, he was not aware that he himself was being watched. The oldest rule of nature is that sometimes the hunter becomes the hunted.
Shrewd and calculating brown eyes followed Smith's every move; watching and waiting with terrible patience until the former agent would reveal his position and strike.
Smith grabbed Bronwyn's arm, spun her around and knocked her groceries to the ground in one fluid movement.
"Don't look so surprised", he said, "I told you that I would find you, didn't I?"
"What do you want this time, Smith?" Bronwyn said.
He slid his hand to the small of her back and pulled her to him so that her body was crushed against his, so that it would take a superhuman effort on her part to escape from him. He ground his hips into hers for the purpose of making her aware of his very hard and very erect member.
"See what you do to me?" he snarled, his mouth against her ear. "Every time I think about you, I get that reaction. You've plagued me, haunted me, made my life a living hell every minute of every day since the night we met. All I can think about is you. What it feels like to have your body under mine, being inside you and feeling your flesh around me, your cheek against mine, your breath in my ear. I want to feel all of that again. I want you. I need you," he whispered huskily in her ear, his entire universe was concentrated on the sensations she was causing him to feel because of her breasts against his chest, the smell of her hair, and the feel of her cheek next to his. Smith closed his eyes and growled in pleasure. "I'll give you anything, everything. Money. Clothes. Jewelry. A nice place to live—name it and it's yours. I know you like nice things. Let me love you. Let me make love to you."
"You're not capable of love, Smith. You don't have a heart. You are cruel, sick and evil." Bronwyn spat.
"Then show me how to love. Teach me," he demanded, his hands hungrily running over her body, claiming her as his own.
In her minds eye, Bronwyn saw herself in designer clothes, eating in good restaurants, wearing expensive jewelry and sleeping on 600 thread count sheets, as she had once done, many years ago, and a part of herself wanted to, to have all of that back again; to never having to worry about money or being hungry or cold ever again.
But at what price? She asked herself.
In a flash, her vision changed into a nightmare, and she realized with a nauseous jolt what her life would be like if she accepted his offer.
True, she would own everything she ever wanted, but at night she would be locked in a luxurious apartment that would become nothing more that a gilded cage with Smith as her jailor and tormentor.
She would be at the mercy of his desires—trapped night after night in the twin prisons of his arms and bed, unable to ever get free. Her body would be a vessel for his twisted and sick passions; she knew she would experience the horror and trauma of her rape in the interrogation room not only once, but over and over again. With her heart and face set like steel--cold and unresponsive--she gave him the only answer it was in her to give.
"I could never love you, Smith. I hate and despise you more than you could ever know. I would rather be dead than in your arms. The thought of even you touching me, makes my skin crawl and all the money in the world could never wash away the feeling of your touch from my skin. You make me sick!" she hissed, her fury overriding her fear and giving her emotional and physical strength she never knew she possessed as she pushed him away from her.
"Damn it, Bronwyn, I want you. And I will have you, now!" Smith snarled then he kissed her brutally and roughly, wanting to punish her for her refusal; to make her feel pain, to give her a taste of the emotional and physical pain he was feeling as a result from her blatant and callous rejection of his admission of his feelings towards her.
He broke off their kiss, filled one hand with her hair and dragged her towards his nearby car; and she had no choice but to follow him though she balked in protest. He only tightened his grip in her hair, and in response she elicited a moan of pain. He opened the door to the backseat of his car and tried to shove Bronwyn inside, but instead, her head hit the frame of the car door with such force that she sank to her knees, dazed and barely conscious.
"No," she protested feebly, "don't do this to me again, Smith,"
"Shut up and get inside", he ordered, his teeth clenched, taking her by the shoulders and he was about to force her into the car when he felt the cold muzzle of gun touch the nape of his neck and he froze into stillness.
"My car is on the next level. It's the only one there. Go to it. Now." a woman's accented voice commanded Bronwyn. She didn't need telling twice. She staggered to her feet and stumbled up the ramp to the second tier of the garage, using the wall to hold her upright. Whoever this mysterious woman was, Bronwyn knew that she owed her big time, for there was little doubt in her mind what Smith would've done to her had he gotten her in the backseat.
"Persephone, what brings you here?" Smith asked smoothly, turning around to look at her, his own gun drawn.
"Go ahead, Smith. Shoot me if you dare." Persephone taunted him, knowing full well that she was one of the very few programs who could say that to him and still remain alive and unharmed. She knew that even though Smith probably wanted very badly to pull the trigger and end her existence, he did not dare act on it. Her husband, known throughout the Matrix as either "The Frenchman" or more correctly, "The Merovingian" was one of the most powerful, influential and more importantly, dangerous programs ever created, and if Smith harmed Persephone in any way, Smith knew that would pay a very high price for the brief pleasure of doing so.
Smith knew he was powerless to act, and he snarled as he holstered his Desert Eagle inside his jacket.
She smiled at him with a smug and knowing smirk on her lovely features, and she pointed her gun between his eyes for a long moment as if debating with herself whether or not to pull the trigger, before lowering the gun and aiming directly at his groin as if trying to decide where to shoot him. Coming to a decision, she instead fired two shots at Smith's car, flattening the two tires on the passenger side.
"I'm making sure that you're not going anywhere. At least until not for a while", she smirked, then laughed in his face before she turned around, walked up the ramp and was lost to sight.
Bronwyn was sitting on the ground, her head resting on her knees and she looked up when she heard the clicking of Persephone's high heels approach the car.
Persephone knelt beside her. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" she asked solicitously.
"I hit my head pretty badly on the door, and I have a hell of a headache, but if it hadn't been for you, he would've..." Bronwyn was unable to continue because of the lump in her throat.
"I know, I know", said Persephone sadly, "but the important thing to do now is get you away from here." She put her arm around Bronwyn's shoulders and helped her to her feet, before opening the passenger door and gently and carefully guiding her inside. Bronwyn groaned in pain.
"Is it the baby?" Persephone asked, alarmed.
"No, I don't think so." Bronwyn shook her head with a rueful smile. "So you know about my baby too?"
"A lot of people do."
"Bad news travels fast, I guess," said Bronwyn glumly.
Persephone started the car and slowly drove off. Unseen by either woman from his vantage point on the stairs between the first and second parking level, Smith reflected on the conversation he had just overheard. Could it be, he thought. Is Bronwyn pregnant with my child? Just to be certain, Smith performed a self-diagnostic on his auditory receptors and its accompanying processing chip and was not surprised to find that everything was in perfect working order. He had heard correctly, after all. He also accessed his memory file and remembered that his human Host at the time of his and Bronwyn's copulation had been female.
I'm going to be a father; he thought and chuckled to himself for a moment until the realization of what that meant dawned on him. A half-human, half-program hybrid. What would that mean for the Matrix, but more importantly, what will that mean for me? Smith did a quick mental calculation. The baby would be born in June.
No one needs to know that I know about the pregnancy already. I have a lot of time to think and plan what I need and have to do, before I make my next move.
He walked outside, leaving the standard agent issue Agency car where it was. I don't need anything from them anymore. I'm free from those chains forever, and I'm going to be a father.