Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine.

Chapter 18

A week was all the time she could stand drowning in sorrow, a week and no more. Nysa rose from bed six days after Olivia's death, washed up, changed clothes, and left her room. It was early in the morning, a time when normally no one was up, a time when she enjoyed sitting quietly by herself, drinking tea alone in the dark. But it was not dark in the main room this morning. She squinted, not having been exposed to that much light in days, and saw her father sitting at the table spinning a basket full of breads and pastries around in quick circles. He looked up at her and smiled, pleased, though not entirely surprised by her presence.

"Sweetbread?" he offered, placing a finger on the basket to keep it from spinning further. She sat down across from him and thumbed through the food. Finding a piece that looked good she began to eat it, slowly at first, then hurriedly, devouring it quickly before reaching for another. Neo chuckled under his breath. "Hungry?"

She only nodded, licking her fingers distastefully as she continued to eat. Neo watched, a smile playing on his lips. He knew that she would recover, even if never fully, she was too strong not to. But he hadn't expected it to take as long as it did, a week with barely any food, no words, not even audible cries, a week of worry and fear for him. Eating was only a first step he knew, but coupling that with her being dressed and out of bed seemed a miracle, and he had to be at least somewhat relieved.

When she finished, she pushed away from the table, leaned back in her chair and looked Neo in the eye. "I know she's dead because of me," she said plainly.

He was startled by this revelation, in part because he did not realize she knew who the intended target was, but mostly because as a parent hearing words like that simply strike deep. He reached for her hand to reassure her that it was not true. "Nysa," was all he got out before she trudged on paying him no heed.

"I'm not saying it was my fault. It wasn't, I know that. It was an accident. I slipped in the mud and she got stabbed instead of me."

"We don't know that."

"I know that. I'm the one who should be dead." Neo flinched visibly, but she went on undisturbed. "But I'm not."

He looked up at his daughter, perplexed by the determination in her voice, her face, the same face that had held nothing but sorrow for days. There was a sort of light in her eyes now that he had not seen before, one that burned of tenacity and conviction, a steely resolve that no one could break. It was the same light he had seen in Trinity's eyes when she set her mind to something, the same one that both angered and enveloped him.

"I want to know who it was. I want to know everything about him, everything that you know."

He told her, told her of his death, probable murder, his lack of affiliation, his utter insignificance. He told her what had been happening in Zion, with the official investigation as well as the people's general mistrust. He told her that though there were rumors about the New Resistance looking into the matter themselves, he knew nothing of what had come from their investigation.

"I know someone," she began cautiously, "who might know about it."

The room fell into silence. Neo looked at his daughter who sat with eyes glued to the tabletop. Knew someone? Who? Who could she possibly know, when nearly everyone she had ever met was already a friend of his? Where could she even meet anyone else? It took her what seemed like forever to go on, but she finally did.

"His name is Styx. He's…he's part of the New Resistance, sort of."

"Sort of?" His palms began to sweat and what started as a gesture to wipe the moisture from them quickly turned into intense hand ringing.

"He is. I mean I don't know how high up he is, or…he supports the cause. And he knows this guy, King. He's kind of one of the leaders, I think."

"King," he repeated simply. "Styx?"

She looked up, met his eyes though barely, timidly. Nysa seldom saw her father angry. Concerned, contemplative sure, but he had almost never been cross with her. There were times certainly in her more obstinate moments when she provoked him to the point of shouting, even punishing, a task that was normally handled by the less affected Trinity. But the most recent blowout the two had had been nearly two years ago, and even then the hostility was mutual. Looking at him now though she could see the beginnings of rage blooming within him, and worse than that, disappointment.

"Olivia," she started and stopped momentarily wincing at the pain of not only saying her name but hearing it as well. "Olivia," she repeated, "wanted us to go to this thing with Michael, just so she could be near him I guess. It turned out to be a rally." She noticed Neo's expression change slightly as he looked away, jaw clenched. She went on hurriedly, trying to explain. "He just had a friend, I mean I don't think he's part of the movement or anything. Styx was speaking at the rally, so he wanted to go just to lend support, you know, be a friend."

"Styx is a friend of Michael?" he asked calmly.

"Yeah."

"He introduced you?"

"Yeah."

He paused, turned back and looked her angrily in the eyes. "What in the hell were you thinking?"

"I don't…"

He rose and began to pace feverishly. Though he seemed furious, he managed to control himself, keeping his voice down so as not to wake Trinity. "A rebel rally? Are you out of your mind?"

"Plenty of people go to them. Tons. I saw people there who've worked on crews and, and…you'd be surprised."

"I don't care about other people Nysa, I care about you. You know what could happen if someone saw you there, what they might think?"

"I just stood and watched, listened. I didn't do anything."

"That doesn't matter. You're my daughter. If you throw your support to them, people will assume that I am too and I can't do that."

"You're not."

"Nys," he took a breath, sat down in the seat next to hers, and tried to calmly explain. "Zion's broken into two factions, those who back the Council and those who believe in the New Resistance." She leaned back and resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. Having known all of this already and now having her father explain it to her as though she were a child was more than a bit condescending, but now was not the time to be insolent. "The Council is powerful, obviously. They have the military, the Temple and most of the citizens. Right now, especially after that speech made by Lock the other night, the rebels have nothing. I'm not saying I'm particularly powerful, certainly not as much as the Council, but I'm known as the One, seen as Zion's savior. If I support the resistance, that gives them reason to believe they can fight, and it would scare the other side enough to make them fight. You understand what I'm saying?"

"If you join the New Resistance, it'd start a war." She responded glibly. "Think an awful lot of yourself, huh?"

"No, they think an awful lot of me."

"Yeah," she said, truly understanding. Growing up on the Neb, she had come to realize, was a blessing. She was able to know her father as simply that, her father. She had seen him as a crewmember, a freedom fighter, a friend, and a lover. To her personally, he was a caregiver, a comforter, a shoulder to cry on, and a teacher, among many other things, all of which comprised daddy. It was only in their brief visits home when she was reminded that he was something more. She heard the stories, witnessed the hopeful people waiting outside their apartment, caught the odd looks he got just walking about, detected whispers throughout the catacombs echoing the word Neo. But all these peculiarities would disappear once alone with her family on the ship. She supposed it was this way with all loved ones of famous or heroic people; the man you know in your heart may not be the one who lives in the hearts of others.

He reached out and took hold of her hand. "If someone sees you with members of the New Resistance, they'll spread the word. As far as they're concerned, you are me."

"I'm not."

"You're a kid, Nys, and I'm your father. That means I should know where you are, who you're with, what you're doing. People assume that, even if I didn't send you to that rally myself, I must've known and been all right with it, which for the record I'm not."

"I gathered that."

"They'd also probably assume that even if I hated the side you chose and everything they stood for, if forced to pick sides, I'd chose you over the council and what I thought was right."

"Would you?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Do you think they're wrong, the resistance?"

"I don't know, baby."

There was silence for a moment as Nysa became lost in thought. Finally she asked Neo the question he had been waiting for, the one he had been putting off asking himself for some time. "If you did know, if you knew in your heart which side was right, would you join them?"

He sat upright, staunch and still. "I don't know."

"I think you do, Dad."

The two locked eyes and a sort of uneasy understanding passed between them. Sometimes sacrifices must be made in order to better serve and protect. Sometimes fears must be met in an attempt to do what is right. Sometimes battles must be fought in order to find one's way back to peace.

"Okay then," he finally said, clapping his hands together and rising from the chair. "Let's go talk to this Styx."