a/n -

Thanks for all of you who are "sticking with me" chapter after chapter, it means alot that you haven't lost interest in this journey, which has JUST BEGUN. ChiaraStorm, I have decided to dedicate this chapter to you, because of that "Review Marathon" ... wow. : )

- Syd

Chapter 11

"Cookie?"

Neo held the tray out in front of her as they sat side-by-side on the mustard-yellow sofa in the Oracle's living room. From the familiar aroma, Trinity identified the freshly-baked treats as peanut-butter ginger, an unlikely combination which had been her favourite since she was a girl. But she waved the dish away, much too preoccupied to even think food, synthetic or not. Neo shrugged and took one for himself, placing the cookies back on the coffee table.

That he could be so at ease, leaning back against the mismatched jade-coloured pillows with a biscuit in his hand, sorting through a pile of periodicals, was astonishing to her. Sometimes, while they waited for one of their new recruits to return from an interview, Neo would try to engage her in his favourite pastime: completing the latest quiz in Cosmopolitan magazine. Over the years, they'd established that Trinity was a type-1 workaholic introvert with a high 'bitchy index' and a sex-drive that earned her the designation of 'vixen' (knowing she'd refuse to participate, Neo was able to complete the latter quiz without her input). He also made the worrisome discovery that according to Cosmo's July edition 'know your body' survey, he had 'sensitive nipples' (his concern persisted in spite of Trinity's attempts to convince him that this questionnaire was relevant for ladies only).

But this time, Neo tossed aside the smut-filled magazine for 'fun, fearless females' and shuffled through the available reading material until he found that morning's A-section of The New York Times.

'Two Terrorists Killed in Sunday Morning Shootout: Leader Still Eludes Authorities'

"Shit." Neo studied the front-page photograph of Elisa and Indira's bodies, lying face-down on the blood-stained concrete. Below was a smaller file-photo of Ghost, his face fuzzy and eyes masked by sunglasses. Neo handed the offensive headline to Trinity without comment, but she knew exactly what he was thinking. The public shaming of their fallen comrades was not unusual in the Matrix, but the ignorant musings of the so-called free press still affected him deeply. He ran a hand through his hair, shook his head, and remembering the untouched snack in his hand, decided to seek comfort from a bite of empty calories from an even emptier dessert.

"My God, what kind of cookie is this?" he asked petulantly, a foul expression on his face. "Is The Oracle trying to poison me or what? Jesus Christ."

"Those weren't for you, Neo."

The voice came from behind them, a tiny, imp-like program with sharp, Arian features and eyes the colour of celery. Her sweet scolding came with a dimpled, starry-eyed smile that was nothing less than the embodiment of joy. Aniko was her name, a cheery, personable assistant that had been with the Oracle since the System rebooted, and it would be not be an exaggeration to say that every time they met, Trinity had to consciously fight the impulse to pull out her gun and shoot her.

In Zion, no woman would dare to flirt with Neo like that, she thought, feeling both violated and ridiculous at the same time. To be jealous of a computer-generated simulation was irrational, but Trinity couldn't help resenting the bubbly chatter and undivided attention that was showered on her husband every time they paid the Oracle a visit. Indeed, the first time they'd encountered Aniko, she'd dreamily gazed at Neo from across the room for nearly half an hour.

"What is it with you and Programs?" Trinity had whispered to him, glaring at the infatuated young lady with all the hormonally-charged daggers of a newly-wed mother-to-be. "Doesn't she realize you're mine?"

"Of course she knows, Trin. She works for the Oracle. She knows everything." Neo grinned while subtly sliding his hand down her back, stopping to touch her in all the right places. "Like what I'm doing right now, for instance. I'm sure it's driving her crazy." Then he leaned in closer, so that his lips brushed the helix of her ear and his breath tickled her neck. "She probably knows what I'm planning to do to you tonight, too. Trust me, my love. She knows I'm a lost cause."

Yet in spite of Neo's obvious enthusiasm to demonstrate that his affections were firmly (and eagerly) planted elsewhere, Aniko never seemed deterred or discouraged. Indeed, here they were eighteen years later, Trinity thought with amazement, their daughter was grown, their relationship matured, their sex-life currently registering somewhere between routine and non-existent, and yet this ageless pixie was still fluttering around her husband like a nectar-starved butterfly circling a sugar-cone. Among other things, Trinity found her persistence unsettling; did this woman know something about their future that gave her cause for hope?

In any case, if Aniko's efforts were to produce results one day, Trinity could feel confident that today would not be it. Neo acknowledged his beautiful admirer with a reserved, tight-lipped smile, the same unspoken rejection she received every time he greeted her (apparently, unrequited love was an insult best delivered politely). Aniko's bright, hopeful eyes held his for a moment – always looking at him as if for the first time, studying him like a painting of which she wanted to memorize every brushstroke, every inspired colour, every artistically brilliant deviation from the ordinary – but what she failed to find seemed to shatter her concentration. Their sparkle gone, her eyes fell to the ground, the aura of elated energy around her evaporating like broken promises. No, today would not be the day.

In the midst of her rival's heartbreak, Trinity felt a pang of guilt. Without having to lift a finger, she'd won – Neo served her victory on a silver platter. He was hers, and he was wonderful. But never before had she felt so unworthy of his love. Their engagement had been a mutual promise that they would never know separation again, a covenant which ironically, she'd broken with a lie that was older as the marriage itself. Their baby lost forever, the tragedy mourned alone, the memory honoured privately: would Aniko find it fitting that this youthful folly had precipitated their present estrangement? Did she, in her wisdom, know Trinity's secret and condemn her for devaluing what she could only envy?

If Aniko did know, no hint of this knowledge was exposed as she turned to Trinity, giving her complete attention with neither warmth nor judgement. "Thank you for coming, Captain," she said. "The Oracle will see you now."

Neo frowned, apparently surprised to be the one excluded. "Just Trinity?"

"I'm afraid so. Neo, make yourself comfortable." Aniko motioned towards the Oracle's kitchen. "Trinity, please follow me."

As she closed the heavy iron door behind her, Trinity paused to examine a collection of tiny winged sewer-beetles mounted on the wall. Each was held to the back of its case with a pin, labelled with a date, location, and a list of observations. Cockroaches, scorpions, moths, spiders and fireflies: these creatures were among the golconda of specimens which decorated her daughter's bedroom, all precisely organized according to some indecipherable classification system.

Lymantria dispari, Female Gypsy Moth, Trinity read from one of the identification tags. Found December 18, 2136 while unloading the cargo hold of the Prometheus. Possibly indigenous to sector 03, sewers omega 5thru8 – see travel logs Prmts36.log.

Posted above Rorie's bed was a map of the sewer and support-line network, generously riddled with colour-coded markers, each hue apparently corresponding to a different species of insect.

"How… How did you do this?" Trinity asked as she studied the elaborate pattern of dots and flags. "How did you know?"

"I didn't, Honey. You did. Apparently, this is the place you most wanted to visit." The Oracle was ornately dressed in a Zionist Council-member's dark purple Sari, her hair wrapped up around a crown of amethyst and topaz crystals. Gold bangles jingled on her wrists as she stood to greet her. "Not quite what you were expecting, right?"

Trinity shook her head as she turned her attention to Rorie's desk, fingers curiously dancing through the meticulously catalogued memory-cards which covered every available inch of storage space. Her daughter's research filled several computers, and the data was analyzed by homemade programs that Knight had written to suit her needs. Apparently, the Surface Reconstruction Project leaders had approached them, wanting to use the database as a stepping-stone towards a National Library of Entomology. It was a trailblazing accomplishment, and while Trinity maintained that biology was the least of her many interests, she certainly respected the rigour of her daughter's passion. Dedication, attention to detail, commitment to perfection: these were things she understood.

Unfortunately, that was the extent of their common ground, a reality that could not have been more obvious as Trinity skimmed the titles on a pile of reference volumes she found stacked on the floor (despite Rorie's appreciation for a clean workspace, the most frequently used resources seldom made it back onto the shelf).

Molecular Biology of the Prokaryotes, Fundamental Ecology, Bioorganic Chemistry, Laboratory Methods in Biochemistry …

She might as well have become a poet, Trinity thought, wondering how she and Neo could have produced such a genetic anomaly. Naturally, she'd hoped that Rorie would have chosen an interest closer to her own: mathematics, physics, computer science, engineering. But it seemed that after mastering everything Trinity had to teach, her daughter had moved on without her. She wondered if Neo felt it, too. Rorie was changing – every day they lost a part of their little girl to this other life, to this other person, a grown woman Trinity inherently loved, but could never completely understand.

And so in the eyes of the consciously distant yet doting parent, Rorie's living space was essentially a dichotomy of meaning: a memory-provoking relic of an ever-fading childhood and a mysterious testament to the newly-emerging adult. As she walked around the room, Trinity endeavoured to embrace them both. That is, until she arrived at the one manifestation of her daughter's individuality from which she still preferred to keep her distance.

The huge, eight-legged creature that Rorie misguidedly called a pet had never seemed more life-like, crawling around its glass case slowly, with all the graceful mystique of an alien queen. 'Pyro' was a female spider of the 'Golden Orb' variety, so named because of the shiny yellow speckles which shimmered on the top of her bright orange torso. Certainly, it was a rare and exotic specimen of sewer biology, but one cannot expect such a rational, objective assessment from a true arachnophobe; the long, hairy legs made Trinity's skin crawl. Indeed, even here in the Matrix, dressed to kill and packing a pair of semi-automatic assault rifles, Trinity's primary impulse when she saw the dreaded thing was to turn on her heel and run.

"What is it you kids say? Free your mind?" The Oracle asked, taking a seat on the bed and motioning for Trinity to join her. "Personally, I think she's kinda cute."

"You know, I could count the number of times I've been in here in the past twelve months on one hand," Trinity said as she carefully backed away from the nightmare-provoking arthropod and sat down on her daughter's quilt-covered mattress. "I told Rorie two years ago that it was either me, or the spider. Twenty hours of labour to bring her into the world, and guess who won."

"Oh, I wouldn't take it personally, dear. Every teenager is bound to rebel."

"Rebel?" Trinity scoffed. "That… thing wasn't rebellion. It was passive aggressive punishment for not letting her keep the subterranean cricket farm. I told her something quiet – anything quiet. So she brings home a spider big enough to swallow a goddamned rat."

"I told you she'd drive you crazy one day," The Oracle chuckled, shaking her head and patting Trinity on the back in mock comfort. "No doubt about it, your husband was right. She is her mother's daughter."

It had been fifteen years since Trinity had spoken privately with the Oracle, and just five minutes into their visit, she was already annoyed. This program was like a bad habit, she thought, just when you think you're done with her, somehow you get pulled back in.

"I've come here for answers," Trinity said, hoping to gain control of the conversation.

"I know you aren't sleeping. We'll get to that. But let's start with the important things. Congratulations on that promotion, Captain Trinity."

"Belated well-wishes for a job I was given a decade ago. You're right- that's much more important than my present insomnia." Although Trinity knew well that sarcasm (being the lowest form of humour and the most obvious demonstration of a person's insecurity), didn't become her, The Oracle seemed to bring it out in abundance.

"Well, of course it was. You found the child I told you about, didn't you? The one your instincts told you right away is special, the one who like you, like Neo, is destined for great things? Right?"

"Yes," Trinity conceded, recalling the Prophecy and its fulfillment with an upward curl of her lip. "It all happened as you said it would."

The Oracle smiled, as if secretly applauding her own brilliant success. "Good. So tell me - how is the little Knight doing?"

"He's a bigger pain in the ass than Rorie is," Trinity replied, the lightness in her tone betraying her genuine affection for him. "But he's a long way from wrestling Sentinels and deleting Agents, if that's what you're implying."

"Now where would you have gotten an idea like that? Trinity, the kid's got game, but just because he's kicked you in the head a few times in the dojo doesn't mean he's The One. Honestly, that young man couldn't find his way to The Source with two hands, a map and a flashlight. God help us if he ever tries. Besides, he's got much more important things to do with his time." The Oracle winked suggestively. "Which brings us to the matter of your headstrong daughter. You're worried about her, aren't you?"

"I know she's in danger. And you told me that one day I wouldn't be able to protect her. You told me that the one thing I wouldn't be able to protect her from… would be my own past. Tell me why."

"Because it isn't up to you anymore. Protecting Rorie is his job now. But don't you worry, honey. If I know Knight, he'll follow that girl of yours to hell and back before he'd let anything happen to her. In many ways, the two of them remind me of you and Neo, once upon a time."

Mouth ajar, Trinity processed the implication carefully. That she'd been the Oracle's unwitting matchmaker in a ten-year romantic set-up between Knight and her daughter was almost as unthinkable as Rorie's having a romantic relationship in the first place.

"My goodness. Breathe, Trinity. Lord above, I haven't seen that look on your face since I told you -"

"Are you telling me… you're not telling me that one day, Knight and Rorie will fall in love?"

"Heavens, no. I'm saying they're already in love. They just haven't put the pieces together yet – I'm telling you, that girl of yours is as dim as her father. And Knight is as stubborn as you were."

"Already in… you're not… but he's just so…" Trinity blurted out several fragments of broken sentences as her mind spun with the unsettling mental image of Knight touching her daughter, or even thinking about touching her daughter, and for a few moments of maternally-induced panic and outrage, every pleasant thought she'd ever had about him went straight out the window. She'd kill him. No, she'd get Neo to kill him.

It's impossible.

Trinity moved from aggression to denial quickly, realizing that killing Knight was probably a tad rash. After all, even if he did love her, certainly Rorie wouldn't reciprocate. What lapse in judgement would motivate her daughter to such lunacy- to love Knight, who battled imaginary Sentinels in elevators and then boasted about his imaginary workouts… the same boy whose favourite 'training simulation' involved his saving the United Federation of Planets from a Klingon invasion? In particular, Trinity was reminded of last April fool's day when he modified all her sparring programs to feature lightsabers instead of samurai swords. Indeed, as 'special' as she thought Knight was (and she did have great confidence in the boy, she always had), it was hard for her to imagine him as an object of any woman's desire.

Certainly, there has to be some mistake…

"Oh, stop being ridiculous. He's a good kid," The Oracle chided. "You picked him out yourself, after all. And you sure know how to pick the good ones. Just ask Aniko; the poor girl goes to pieces whenever you and Neo drop by."

"Why in God's name do you always tell me these sorts of things?" Trinity asked irritably, raw nerves aggravated further by the mention of Aniko's name. Of course she was being ridiculous. How else could the Oracle expect her to react, a possessive mother being asked to hand her precious little girl over to someone else- anyone else? It seemed like only yesterday, Neo was the only man in her daughter's life. He was the sun of Rorie's universe, and Trinity was the moon. Now suddenly there were giant spiders and handsome young ensigns to consider. How in God's name did things become so complicated?

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'd rather not know?" Trinity said.

"It's important that you do. That you understand how important that boy is. To her."

This statement was said with a gravity that made Trinity uneasy. She considered the possibility that if Rorie and Knight reminded The Oracle of her and Neo, it wasn't necessarily a good thing. Indeed, there were easier ways to fall in love.

"Neo and I have been detecting irregularities in the System," she said pensively. "Mutations in the code, old Agent programs have resurfaced, and it looks as if Smith is trying to contact us. Something's happening. But what does it have to do with Rorie?"

"I'm not going to lie to you. A lot is about to change, and it's anybody's guess how it's going to turn out. But one thing's for certain. Locking your daughter up in Zion isn't going to do anybody any good. Use your instincts, Trinity. It isn't where she belongs, and you know it."

"But what about-"

"The nightmares? Yes, I can imagine how difficult these past few months have been for you. It was hard on Neo too, when he was first given The Sight. He must have seen you fall from that building fifty times, and every time it scared the hell out of him."

Trinity caught her breath. In all these years, Neo had never told her about that dream. And now that she knew what had tormented him so mercilessly, it didn't surprise her that he'd kept it from her, even twenty years after the fact. Another residue of war best left in the past, she thought.

"But then his dream was a premonition," Trinity reasoned. "I did fall from that building. Does that mean that my nightmare represents something that is going to happen?" She let out a shaky breath, recalling the details of her visions with mind-numbing clarity. "Please, tell me I'm not going to lose Rorie… just as I lost the first. Promise me."

The Oracle sighed. "I can't, honey. I can't make any promises because I honestly don't know what's going to happen. I can only tell you that she's in good hands, and nobody knows better than you do how important that is. Besides, you've got your hands full of yor own problems, Trinity. You can't miss this opportunity."

"Opportunity? To do what?"

"To finally set things right. To make peace with your ghost, once and for all. You know, we can never see past the choices we don't understand. And we can never fully get over them, either. I'm sure you've figured that out by now."

"You could say that," she whispered.

The Oracle took her hand. "You have an old soul, my dear. Your family is lucky to have you. All of them." She stood, bringing Trinity up with her. "In fact, you'd better get going. One of your sheep needs some shepherding. It seems the flock has run into a pack of wolves."

"Wolves? What do you…" Trinity's question was interrupted by her telephone. "Goddamnit," she whispered, standing and pulling it from her pocket. "Yeah."

"We've got trouble." Knight's tone sent a chill down her spine. She could tell he was terrified.

"What is it?"

"Sentinels."

"How many?"

"Uhm…" Trinity could hear David's deep, controlled voice murmuring something in the background. "We don't know - there are too many. Maybe a hundred or something like that. Probably more. We're surrounded."

"Calm down. What are they doing?"

"They're just sitting there. It looks like they're waiting for something."

By this time, Trinity had left the Oracle and was back in the living room, motioning for Neo to follow her out to the corridor.

"We're coming. Tell us which Exit."

"Kirk's already on it – Ontario and Ste Laurent, industrial building, room 711. It's the only line the Agents haven't cut yet."

"Got it." Trinity hesitated for a moment. Then, "you've got your finger on the EMP, right?"

"Yeah, but we can't use it until-"

"Keep your finger on it. If they breech the hull, the crew is the priority, you got it?" Trinity raced to the window at the end of the hall, shooting the pane out with one of her MP5's. "Knight, goddamnit answer me!"

"Calisse! You're going to make it. Don't fuck me up like that, Trin."

Trinity slapped the phone shut and cursed as Neo joined her, having pieced together the situation by overhearing her one-ended conversation.

"Where?" he asked.

"Ontario and Ste Laurent," she said, pointing east. "And if we live through this, remind me to lock Knight in the brig."

"For what?"

As Neo swept her up into his arms, Trinity considered a rich variety of possible answers to that question. "Just trust me on this one," she said. "He's lucky I don't Court Martial his ass."

A bankrupt housing project had left the historic brick building at 16 Ontario West Avenue half-gutted and caged in rusted scaffolding, and many of the exits were boarded up. Neo and Trinity landed on the roof and kicked their way through several walls of wood planks to reach the main stairwell. It was unlit, the naked concrete steps uneven, and in her fervent haste Trinity blindly stumbled her way after Neo, swearing like a sailor at every misstep. Four flights down, they arrived at the 7th floor entrance, so indicated in fluorescent orange spray-paint on the nailed-shut emergency escape.

"Wait," Neo whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop Trinity from barging through the door. He cocked his head and looked around. "This place… it's not like the rest of the building. The code is different here. It's… golden light. Like… God, like the entire thing is made of light."

Trinity considered this for a moment, and made her decision. "We don't have time. Go."

Neo followed her instructions, knocking through the barrier with a single thrust of his torso, and they both burst into the hallway, turning in the direction of the muffled ringing.

"Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, how lovely to see you again." Smith said, arms folded across his chest. He was standing directly in front of a door marked 711 in cursive gold writing.

Neo instinctively extended an arm out in front of Trinity, who had pulled out both guns, fingers on the triggers.

The program laughed. "Well, is that any way to greet an old friend?" He removed his sunglasses, and his startling blue eyes matched Trinity's in a terrifyingly intense stare. "I guess you got my message?"

"What do you want?" Neo asked, moving still closer to his wife, wishing she'd get behind him, but knowing she wouldn't.

Smith pulled out a large silver key from his pocket, holding it out in his palm. "I don't know about you, but I'd like to find out who that is on the phone. You never know. It could be someone important."

Neo glanced at Trinity, unsure how to proceed. She looked back at him, offering no counsel. What options did they have?

Smith sighed his impatience with their indecision. "It should interest you both to know that I have been asked… not to kill you. I have also been instructed to tell you that your… friends are not in any danger. Not yet." He slipped the key into the lock, turning it three times counter clockwise, and the bolt sprung open with a loud click. He opened the door and, stepping over the threshold, held it ajar. "But I'm sure you know that patience is not a virtue I possess in abundance, Mr. Anderson. So, if you and your… lovely wife would care to follow me." He grimaced. "…Please."

Trinity cocked her guns, but Neo shook his head to her. The shrill ringing was louder now, and beyond the crumbling cement walls of the deteriorated building, golden code exploded in rays from the room Smith had unlocked. He had only ever seen lights as brilliant as this in the Machine City, and although Smith gave him reason for pause, he sensed no immediate malevolence. On the contrary, the path before them seemed almost welcoming. To explain this instinct to Trinity would be impossible, but as he watched her lower her weapons and tuck them into the holsters on her belt, he realized he didn't have to.

"I trust you," she said, so softly he almost didn't hear her. "And if he has something to do with the Sentinels surrounding my ship, I'd sure as hell like to find out how."