Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. I'm spoiled rotten by my other fics, and I'm a total review whore, so it's much appreciated.

As far as this chapter…well, you're not going to understand everything straight from the start, you're going to have to work it out for yourself. But then Matrix fans should be more than capable of that. Just take this as fair warning—I never spoon feed my readers. Because, after all, there is no spoon, right?

Hope you enjoy.

Daydreamer731

CHAPTER 1

The sentinel's titanium plating gleamed blindingly in a ray of rare sunlight that had managed to make its way through a small hole in the clouds of ash that still blackened the sky despite everyone's best efforts. Every attempt had been made to fix the damage, but the cold hard fact remained—it just wasn't that easy to undo centuries of destruction. They were not ready to give up, though. Far from it.

The sentinel paused at the gathering point, hovered closer to the ground for a moment to seize a young sapling gently in its metal tentacles, then propelled itself back toward the nursery. It maneuvered gracefully past the glass doors and through the pressure zone, then past row upon row of young plants, stopping at last in front of one of the overseers. She was dressed like all the other former resistance soldiers who had been assigned to do surface work, in black pants and a gray wool sweater, but she had removed the sweater in the artificial heat of the greenhouse, revealing a deep blue undershirt. A lock of dark hair fell across her face every few moments, too long to be worn loose, but not yet long enough to be captured in the tie at the nape of her neck. She brushed it back every time it fell, her fingers leaving traces of soil on the pale skin of her face.

The sentinel grasped the tree in two of its tentacles, using a third to gesture at a spot exactly two meters from the previous one in the row.

There? It broadcast.

Trinity looked down at the screen of her tiny handheld and shook her head. Though the sentinels could not speak, they had set up a sort of wireless internet and communicated with the humans through receiving devices which translated the signal into text.

"No," said Trinity, attempting to keep the exasperation out of her voice. After a year she was still amazed at how slow the machines were to catch on.

The sentinel ruffled its tentacles, looking for a moment like a fluffed up bird. A sign of irritation, Trinity had learned.

Or how stubborn, she amended silently. Though it was still believed to be impossible, the machines behaved for all the world as though they were capable of emotion.

"Not there," she insisted. "Trees in a forest grow at random, not in perfect geometric shapes."

She had been telling the worker sentinels this for weeks, and yet the foliage in the greenhouse so far was in such perfect rows a giant could have played a game of Boxes with it. Even when the sentinels did appear to plant something out of formation, they just filled in the gaps later, completing the perfect pattern.

Trinity sat on the ground to watch the sentinel work. The idea was to repopulate the Earth's surface with plant life in carefully temperature controlled greenhouses. The machines were working on an artificial ozone layer, and when the time was right, they would remove the glass from strategic locations, thus rebuilding the atmosphere. As conditions improved, the plan was to phase out the Matrix slowly, so that the people would never know.

Trinity sighed and brushed a hand across her eyes as the sentinel kicked up a wad of dirt that just happened to hit her in the face. She knew she would not see the full deletion of the Matrix and return to surface dwelling in her lifetime. It was a sobering thought. Early euphoria at the war's end had faded fast, replaced almost instantly by grief and an overwhelming exhaustion since—

She pushed the thought from her mind and stood up as she realized that the sentinel had finished planting the tree…and that it had formed a perfect right triangle with the ends of the two rows. Trinity brushed that damned piece of hair out of her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time and bit the inside of her lower lip to keep from screaming in exasperation.

The camp of dwellings had been slapped together quickly, much like the mud huts of the Indians, centuries gone by. They were constructed mainly of plexiglass, windows everywhere to trap any rare heat from the sun. The greenhouses on other parts of the surface had been growing for several months now, managing to produce a scanty supply of fruits, vegetables, and cotton for clothing. It was not much, but the population was so small that it provided a noticeable supplement to what was already being produced in the Zion groweries.

Trinity stood in front of the largest window in the small foyer, watching the already dark sky fade to inky black. The ridiculous wish to see the moon, or even a beam of silvery light tugged at her heart. She shook her head at herself and pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand. The sound of laughter in the other room floated through the corridor, echoing a little. They must be eating dinner, she realized, but did not move. She had no wish to join the others. No wish to see any of them ever again.

"Surface duty again? I'd been wondering where you were."

Trinity jumped slightly, then forced herself to take a deep breath and turn around slowly. Niobe stood in the dimming lights, lounging against the wall and regarding her with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"I like it up here," said Trinity simply.

Niobe narrowed her eyes and took a step closer, straightening to her full height.

"Bullshit. Nobody likes working up here in this wasteland."

Trinity shrugged, still trying to keep her face neutral.

"Better than down there, at least."

"You don't really believe that."

Trinity laughed bitterly and turned back toward the window. It was so dark the clear sheet looked like a solid wall of blackness.

"Funny how everyone wants to tell me what I believe lately."

"Trin—"

"Don't call me that."

Niobe sighed.

"The people don't know any better. No one wants to tell the truth anymore, it's all rumors. They just—"

"They blame me. I know."

"Trinity, you can't look at it like that. No one's being reasonable about this." Niobe shook her head. "An entire damn year and no one can be reasonable."

Trinity turned and leaned against the wall, cringing as the muscles in her back protested.

"It's perfectly reasonable. They can't accept it. They needed someone to blame and so they blamed me. And now it's been a year. Who would bother to apologize?" She shifted uncomfortably, eyes on the floor. "And it was partly my fault."

"Trinity, you're too damn hard on yourself. You did everything you could. You're damn lucky to be alive yourself. And it's not like there isn't any hope at all…the Zion medical staff said Neo was improving when I left. That his neural patterns were more active."

"Niobe, they've been saying that for months. He's been in a coma for a year. They just…don't want to stop hoping any more than I do."

Niobe made her way over to the window but kept her distance. Trinity watched out of the corner of her eye, refusing to turn. She had always liked Niobe; when Trinity had first been unplugged, it had been Niobe that taught her to live in the Real World, showing her everything Morpheus could not offer to a sixteen year old girl. Niobe cleared her throat at last, jarring Trinity from her thoughts.

"Come on. You need to eat. You're too thin as it is."

Trinity attempted a sneer, but failed miserably.

"Yes, Mom."

Niobe laughed a little and started off toward the mess hall.

"Good to know you still have a sense of humor buried under that ice exterior."

Ghost and Link looked up at the sound of the door opening; they were the only ones still left seated at the long table. It was late even for dinner.

"So what is it tonight, boys?" asked Niobe, taking a seat at the table across from Link.

Ghost ladled up a spoonful of whatever was in his bowl and let it run back in slowly. It was green. And very lumpy.

"Cream of…something that was apparently left over from the planting," said Link, wincing.

Ghost went over to the wall spigot that served as their food supply and filled another bowl with the green stuff. He held it out like an offering.

"Trinity?"

She shook her head silently, which earned her a glare from Niobe. She opened her mouth to protest, but was interrupted by the door being flung open and slamming against the wall. Kid dashed in, his face flushed in the perpetual excitement that had at last gotten on everyone's last nerve and caused him to be banished to surface duty.

"TRINITY!" he all but screamed.

She flinched visibly at the sound of his voice and turned to regard him with the icy glare she'd become famous for among the Resistance.

"Jesus," she snapped. "I'm right here, Kid. And if one more person says my name today, I'm registering for a new one. Getting overused."

"What?" said Kid, lost.

Trinity shook her head in exasperation.

"Nevermind. What is it?"

"Call for you."

"From?"

"Morpheus."

Kid beckoned for her to follow, and she obeyed, all but treading on his heels in her haste. He motioned to a phone on the table in the communications center, and she snatched it up.

"Morpheus?"

"Trinity, listen to me." The deep voice was filled with an urgency that made her heart speed up. "He's awake."

She just stood there for what felt like hours, frozen in shock. Her heart pounded in her temples, and the phone was suddenly so heavy she could barely hold it up.

"Trinity?"

"I'm here. I'm coming back."

"You haven't finished your shift on the surface. You have two more days before you're cleared to return."

Her free hand clenched in frustration, ripping the hem of her already threadbare shirt.

"Morpheus, don't do this to me—"

"I'm not doing it to you, Trinity. I'm doing this for you. He isn't ready yet."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That you're going to have to be patient. Take these two days to prepare yourself. It isn't going to be easy for either one of you."

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