A/N: For those who may be confused about Neo's eyes – at the end of the Matrix Revolutions, Neo loses his eyesight, but still manages to see by a source of light that aids him when blind. According to some cultural beliefs, every visible object upon the earth (alive or not) gives off an aura that cannot be seen. That aura is a unique pattern of light only apparent in that object and no other. This was what Neo could see – the light aura radiating off everything both living and not, and that was how he could see when blind, thanks to his ability as the One. Or at least that's my understanding of the movie…but I could be wrong. Nevertheless, that's how I've chosen to describe it in this story.

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He did not dream again that night, but this may have been because he barely slept. He soon discovered that the medical table they lay upon together was far too small for both, and after several attempts to remain lying beside her, he eventually realized he could not, and allowed himself to slide onto the floor, shivering in the frost-bitten air. The flimsy under-shirt he wore was hardly warming against the cold, and tucking his legs up beneath his chin and wrapping his arms around them hardly helped at all.

Soon, dawn must have arrived, because he could hear the sounds of the sentinels awakening and swooping past the ship, their tentacles swirling behind them, and propelling them forwards through mid air. He then began to wonder if sentinels awoke at dawn, or during the evening, and it was then that he knew that he had no sense of the time whatsoever.

He saw no reason to remain seated on the frozen metal floor, eating through his skin and turning his pale hands a cool shade of blue, so he grasped hold of the edge of the medical table, heaving himself to his feet. He gasped, clasping a hand to his forehead as a searing shot of pain burst into his skull, blurring the aura of light that radiated off each object – his only source of vision in his blinded state. He exhaled an exhausted sigh as his head cleared, and his mind relaxed when he caught sight of her relaxed formation of light, lying curled and shivering amongst the crumpled blankets that enveloped her frozen body, eyes closed in restless sleep. He noticed how bland and lifeless her face appeared when compared to the streak of blood sliding down her upturned cheek, and would have feared she may have left him again overnight if it weren't for her shallow and pitiful breathing. He placed his bloodstained palm against her cheek, brushing away wisps of ebony hair. It was ice cold.

He began to pace the Med Bay, wondering how long it would be before she woke, or if anyone would ever be able to find them…if they would die on the outskirts of the machine city. A bitter and empty death, caused by starvation, disease or cold. But at least now he would not die alone. He knew it was selfish to think that he brought her back only for him, though it hardly mattered now. He didn't care. He had spent so long thinking of others, and putting them before himself. Now that he had fulfilled his purpose, and ended the war, he had a right to be human…and to think of himself for a change. Nothing really seemed to matter anymore…his job was done, and now they would die together. Slow and painful…but not alone.

He saw no point in bothering to cleanse the sash tied around his wounded eyes, let alone to cleanse the wound itself. They needed to save their supplies, if they were to live for as long as possible. But would they want to live? Would it be better for both of them if they were to die quickly? He did not know anymore…he did not want to have anymore decisions. For once, he wanted someone else to do what needed to be done, and he would not need to be a part of it. Finally, he settled on the edge of the medical table again, one leg resting on the smooth surface and the other stabilizing him on the floor, stroking her hair and tightening the blankets around her.

"Trinity…" He whispered, unsure why he talked to her when she was sleeping. He needed to speak…to clear his head. She always told him that he could tell her anything he wanted…and she would always listen, even when she was sleeping. Even if she had been dead. "…Trinity, I-I don't know what to do now…I….I'm confused. Are we going to die out here? Will anyone bother to try and find us? I just wish…I just wish I had a plan…"

As he spoke, he came to notice one of the mechanical creatures that had boarded the ship before, upon his own entry. He had thought they may try to kill him in the dead of night, and for a moment he instinctively feared for his life upon the sight of it, though the tiny being made no effort to attack him, but instead nattered insanely in its strange, unknown, screeching language. Puzzled, he raised one brow and slipped his leg from the medical table so that he was standing upright.

"What?" He asked softly, placing his hand on Trinity's blanket-clad form, moving cautiously towards the being. It jabbered furtively, moving in a circular motion across the floor in order to guide itself towards him. It met him at the rear of the table, clawing at the toe of his boots, dragging its metallically body onto the front of his shoe. Perplexed, he bent and scooped the creature into his hands. He did not fear for his life any longer…death could come for him at any time, and he did not fear it, as long as she would die too. He did not want her to die here alone.

The creature made no effort to harm him, and nuzzled against the raw flesh of his injured hand. It had a clear body, and mutational, spindly legs. It resembled the vague outline of what would have been a spider, although there was distinct differences between both. It had the fiery, blazing eyes of a sentinel, florescent against the purest white of its shell. He peered at it curiously as it moved across his palm, wondering what it planned to do, and why its kind should see need to enter their doomed ship. After a time he began to see a pattern to its screeching, and the strange gestures it performed. It was jerking towards the door, pointing in the direction of the dark corridor that loomed beyond. It wanted him to follow it.

He loosened his hold on it, allowing it to leap from his palm, and scuttle towards the door, pausing and twisting its body around to ensure that he would follow. He pursued it warily, not for fear of the beast's plans, but of the corridor itself. Without the aid of the electrical lighting system, the dank and moist corridors that emerged ahead of him reminded him of his dream…the haunting woman lying upon Trinity's bed that waited for him at the end. He could hear something dripping…leaking from an engine that had been broken…and the deafening plodding of his boots petrified him. He the skin prickled on the back of his neck, and perspiration gathered in the raw palms of his hands. Yet still he blundered on, stumbling down the ladder to the lower deck when the beast dropped over the edge effortlessly. He slipped towards the last rudder, falling backwards and crying out in shock as his head collided with the sharp metal of the floor bellow. He cursed, forcing himself back to his feet and using the nattering sounds of his creature friend to guide him.

It led him past the sleeping quarters to the lower area, where engines and fuses were kept in check. He gasped in shock upon entry, when he caught sight of what lay beyond the steel door. The dozens of creatures, identical to the one that greeted him at the door to the Med Bay, were swarming about the fuses, scurrying and digging their legs into the sides, tugging frantically at the wires. They had been here all night, ever since he had allowed them to follow him into the ship. He did not know what they planned to achieve, but he knew that it would not do them any good.

"Stop!" He bellowed, swatting blindly at a handful of them working nearby. They fell to the floor but quickly regained their composure, scrambling to return to what they had been doing before. He attempted to stamp on them with the thick souls of his boots, but they were quick, diligent and stubborn. They slid by him, every one avoiding him with ease.

Frustrated, he began to shout and swear, sweeping and swatting at them, knocking them to the floor and then stamping at them with his boots. None were injured, and soon returned to their unknown mission. His hand collided with one and it fell from the surface of a fuse, pulling wires with it. The others hurriedly took its place, and pushed the wires back into place. They did not try to mangle them any further, nor did they attempt to attack him for what he'd done to their companion. It was then that he realized that they were not trying to destroy the ship. They were trying to repair it.

Why they did this, he did not know. He guessed that it was because of the treaty he'd formed between man and machine so recently, and they felt in debt to help him under the orders of their master. That or they wanted him out of their city. Either way it did not matter. They knew what they were doing, and unlike him, had a chance of repairing the ship alone. With their help, he would return to Zion, and Trinity would heal. They would have the peace they so desperately craved…and everything would be as it should be.

He bent to retrieve the fallen creature, and placed it carefully upon its post. It shuddered, stretching its legs and screeching in thanks, before returning to its task. He smiled apologetically, and backed towards the doorframe. As he smiled, he felt the muscles surrounding his lips tighten, as if straining with the effort to change his lip formation. It felt like an eternity had past since he had last smiled.

As he reached the Med Bay once more, he heard a soft whimpering from beyond the door and felt his pace sharpen instinctively, until he broke into a swift run. He burst through the iron door, scanning the large room using the light vibrating off the surrounding objects as his eyes. She was awake, ice blue eyes wide as if she were petrified…something so unlike her. She rocked herself slowly form side to side, clutching the blankets closer to her fragile body…her face still ashen from death.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He whispered, seating himself on the edge of the table. His tone was softer now…his voice no longer hoarse and cracked when he spoke to her…his throat no longer dry and raw. He swallowed, afraid of the lost and distant glaze to her hazed eyes…like crystals melting in an invisible flame. She did not turn to him, but continued to stare intently ahead of her at the open door, whimpering quietly to herself.

"Where were you?" She whispered, voice meek and as distant as her eyes. He did not like it…it wasn't her. "I heard you in my dreams…you were speaking to me…you were afraid…then you were gone, and I felt so alone…"

He sighed deeply, reaching out for her with both arms, grasping her shoulders and pulling her up into his arms. She felt as weak as she sounded…not the strong woman he had once known her to be. She was still ill…violently ill. Trinity never spoke to him like this. She would never admit that she was weak, and that she was afraid of him leaving her alone. If they did not return to Zion soon, he feared she would not last much longer.

"I won't leave you ever again." He swore, whispering into the soft folds of her ebony hair. "I promise I won't, ok?"

She nodded, and then let her body fall limp against his, allowing him to cradle her in his arms. Time past…it did not matter how long…he did not care. But soon she was sleeping again, and the sleep was peaceful. He knew by the calm breath he felt against his chest…her breath was still so cold. He held her tightly, nestling his head into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, breathing in her scent…that overwhelming scent he feared he would never smell again. Finally, he left her to rest again, tucking the mass of blankets around her tightly, and kissing her forehead before he moved away again.

He did not dare to leave the room, for he did not want her to wake alone again. Instead, he took to pacing the room again. He was waiting. Waiting for the ship to be ready. Waiting to return to Zion. Waiting for peace…

He could not remember falling asleep, and he supposed it was a restless slumber, for he did not dream – something he was thankful for. But he remembered waking due to the electronic light that suddenly streamed into the ship. He groaned as he pulled himself into a sitting position from his resting place on the floor, feeling the extra light form as part of the aura seen through his eyes. The ship was no longer masked in darkness, but beamed with brilliant light. The ship had been repaired.

"Whoa," He spoke to himself, hearing the groggy, wheezing sound of his voice echo off the walls of the ship. "Those things work fast."

He heard a whimper, and a stirring sound from the medical table and leapt to his feet, instantly taking to Trinity's side as she woke. A great time must have past since he had allowed sleep to claim him, as it would have taken time to repair the ship. But her face was pastel, lifeless and almost dead. Still her hand was frozen in his own when he found it amongst the pile of blankets that enveloped her. But he was not afraid for her life. The ship was repaired…and now they would return to Zion…to their home, where she would heal, and be healthy again.

"What happened?" She asked, struggling to sit up. He soon realized she could not do this alone, and moved to help her, holding a hand behind her back.

"I'll explain later. All you need to know is that the ship has been repaired, and I'm going to take you back to Zion."

He lifted her, holding her so that she reclined in his arms, and rested her head against his chest. She was barely stronger than the last time he held her, but he assured himself that the healing process would take longer than he first assumed…and that it would get worse before it got better.

He carried her to the ladder…up into the cockpit, and placed her into the torn and bloodstained co-pilot chair, wrapping the blankets around her securely. The safety belt had not been repaired, and he had no choice but to throw it across her loosely, and pray that no accident should occur. He dropped into the chair beside her, taking to the controls. He could hear the soft hum of the engine, and the self-satisfied nattering screeches of the machines. He felt them behind him, and turned to see a dozen of them scurrying outside the doorframe, eyes ablaze with fury. At first, he was confused…wondering why they should be so enraged, before he remembered that they had no wish to return to Zion, and quickly made his way back to the Main Deck and the door of the ship. He wrenched it open with great effort, and watched bemusedly as they swarmed down the ramp and back into 01, nodding in thanks before he closed the door.

As he moved back to the ladder, he became aware of another presence with him in the ship, and the hushed breath of something lurking in the dimly lit corridor. He turned wildly, searching every angle for the source of the upset within him. But the corridor remained empty. Shrugging, he strode back to the ladder and climbed the first rudder, now worried he'd left Trinity alone too long. He had almost reached the top when he heard a deafening screech from below him and cried out in purest alarm, hands slipping from the rudder he held. This time, he did not fall to the ground, but grasped hold of another rudder, stabilizing himself. He turned over his shoulder, hearing the muscles of his neck creak in protest as he gazed down upon the minute outline of the form of a creature. The one who had met with him in the Med Bay before, he recognized, was now scuttling bellow him. He had seen it before when he opened the door to allow the others to leave. But this one had not gone. This one had remained behind.

He lowered himself to the ground, seizing the beast in one hand and clenching it between his fingers. It did not struggle, or attempt to escape. He loosened his hold, nursing it in the palm of his hand. This one was alone…as he had been before he had brought her back. It did not want to leave with its companions…it would not return to 01. It wanted to go to Zion with him.

"You're a runt, aren't you?" He asked it timidly. "You're smaller than the others…I can tell."

It did not screech, but adjusted its position in his hand, gazing up at him with furious red eyes. He smiled, placing the creature on his shoulder before clambering up the ladder. It was a machine…his enemy…a being he had been taught to fear. But he could not fear the beast anymore than he could fear another human. Not because he was aware of the peace he had created between man and machine, but because of the similarities between them. It felt out of place…alone and lost…like something more was out there it desired to see…just like he had felt once. The creature on his shoulder reminded him of Thomas A. Anderson.

She had not moved from her seat, and was sleeping soundly when he returned to the cockpit. He sat in his seat, bringing the ship to life with the touch of a dial. The engine stirred and shuddered, and the ship sprung to life. He smiled to the beast resting upon his shoulder, then creased his brow in concentration. The ship crunched as it pulled away from the side of the tower, as rubble poured into the streets below.

He gaped as the ship turned, and he came to see the vast fields of the machine world that lay before him, sentinels swarming around them on all sides, but ignoring him completely…as if they had intended for this to happen. He knew then that the machines that had repaired his ship had been ordered to do so. If not, the sentinels would have reacted.

He guided the ship across the fields alone, struggling to pilot the ship without assistance for the first time, his head throbbing with pain from the headache that consumed him. He craved for sleep…yearned for rest, but still he pressed on, refusing to use auto-pilot until they had crossed the borders of the machines, and were safely beneath the earth again and on the path to Zion. Even so, he found himself struggling to stay awake…to find hope even when they were returning to their home, and to what he hoped would be a world of peace. Something was not right…something had changed. If it weren't for the constant, peaceful breathing in the chair beside him, he was certain he would have long since lost any sense of hope at all.

(o)

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