Disclaimer: I own none of the matrix.
A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys... Also, sorry for my stupi dmistake of posting it to the wrong story...
They lay together in the dark, shivering against each other as the wind gusted its icy breath upon the Exile land.
They were not sleeping; they were not even close to sleep. The idea of sleep in this bitter cold was laughable. Yet they did not speak to each other, and spooning was likewise absent from their minds.
They only lay there, sharing each other's warmth, thinking their thoughts, not hearing the brisk rustle-crunch of someone – or something – approaching through the shadowy underbrush.
A few long hours had passed, and Smith had actually been on the rim of sleep when something sharp and deadly cold slipped against his throat.
Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes on the darkness.
The person looming above him was but another thick and ominous shadow among others lurking and grinning around him. He could not even begin to make it out.
"Proper cosy, ain't you?" The lurking shadow said.
Smith said nothing. He only lay there, silently hoping – praying – that the moon, stars, something damn it, would shine the light, and turn this grinning presence into a person.
"Yes," The lurking shadow continued, "Real coooozey, snuggling up warm. Mayhap even a feel up for your penny, eh?"
The lurking shadow shifted, lending more pressure the deadly cold object placed against Smith's throat, and then Smith saw the face of the charming apparition looming above him.
Not a shadow, but Shadow.
He grinned at Smith, looking more like a monster now that Smith could see his face, and the pure, tyrannical insanity that flowed from it.
Angela stirred against him but did not wake.
"What is it you want?" Smith asked quietly, speaking so because he had no desire to wake Angela, because her wakefulness would put her in danger. Smith ignored the interior horror oozing through his blood because of such caring, and looked up into Shadow's insane profile.
"What do I want, he asks, what do I want?" His eyes gleamed in the moonlight.
"I think it's pretty obvious what I want, don't you? You just as dead as dogshit and that woman next to you to be mine."
Smith said nothing.
Shadow looked away for a moment, the faint starlight gleaming in his eyes, turning them the colour of tarnished silver.
Smith took his opportunity.
Angela was awake. She had stirred against Smith but kept her eyes steadfastly shut, not letting on that she was awake and she knew exactly who was whispering – and undoubtedly grinning – and mocking Smith in the dead of night.
Anger bubbled and raged inside her, threatening to overspill.
Keep your cool, Ange. Keep your cool. Wait. And when the time is right...
Unbeknownst to either Smith or Shadow, one of Angela's fists clenched, her nails biting into her palms.
Laying there, listening to the wind howl above the ground, taking the autumn leaves up in scattered whirlwinds as it went, listening to Shadow as he ranted.
Oh, Shadow, I'm going to make you sorry.
Angela opened her eyes to thin slits, every other part of her as still as stone.
Shadow was looking away.
A wide grin totally devoid of humour flashed out on her face, and Angela sat up with the speed of a snake, pouncing.