a/n: Thank you all for the nice response to the Neo and Trinity fluff. I warn you, that is the last of the Neo Trin fluff for a while... you see, another womanis about to cause some "trouble in paradise" (we all know who ... Freud wouldeat this up with a bent spoon). Now then,thisis a mother/ daughter chapter. And I must say, up until this point, this is myabsolute favourite chapter. So if you're one of those who reads and doesn't review (grr), if you are EVER going to post a review - let it be for this one. It is special to me… I hope you all enjoy (readers and reviewers alike!) - Syd

Chapter 19

Rorie glanced at her watch. It was past three-thirty in the morning, and despite her diligent efforts and those of a talented SRP crew, they'd only catalogued close to half of the insets found in the Neb. So far, they'd found over five hundred, and from what Rorie could tell, no two were exactly alike. Even the machinery showed signs of variability, tiny designs imprinted in the metal, only visible to the scientists using the scanning electron microscope. Luckily, she had a few friends in materials chemistry who emailed her some stills. They looked like fingerprints, Rorie thought, hardly paying attention to what she was doing as her hand automatically slipped her key into the lock and lifted the magnetic security card to the reader. She opened the front door to her home and turned on the lights, placing a binder and clipboard onto the kitchen table with a note that read, 'To the High Priestess: Here's the damage report. All of it. Don't shoot the messenger! Your humble servant always, Mr. Knight K. Knightly of Knight&Knight Inc. PS: Rorie helped a little, too.'

Rorie grinned and shook her head at the spider's webs he'd doodled around the corners of the page. Her mother wouldn't think it was funny, but Knight had said that if he was going to stay up all night manoeuvring through the goo on the hull, Trin could endure a picture of it on her stationary. Indeed, the sticky, luminescent polymer found throughout the ship was all over him by the time they'd finished, and Rorie had spent a good twenty minutes trying to pick it out of his ample hair.

Incidentally, after speaking to Hawk-Eye about her analysis of the compound, the two of them had come to the conclusion that 'spider's webs' was an inaccurate description of the elaborate patters hanging from the walls. Functionally, it was much more likely that the insects used them for navigation, mapping their surroundings with complex, light-emitting shapes which served as homing-beacons.

What didn't make any sense was why they would have collectively powered her parent's hovercraft. Such cooperation would have required a communal consciousness. Perhaps they communicated using radio waves, or some other wireless information sharing protocol. But that was method. What concerned Rorie most was motive. She did not believe for a moment that these insects were simply good Samaritans. Something had directed them.

"Rorie?"

Trinity was dressed in a long navy-blue robe, standing in the doorway of the master bedroom. She ran a hand through her hair and suppressed a yawn as she squinted into the light.

"Mom!" Rorie's face lit up. She hadn't seen her mother since the ship docked. "I'm so glad you're up. What did the Council decide? I have so many questions about the-"

"Shhh!" Trinity hushed her as she closed the bedroom door behind her. "Your father's sleeping. Finally."

"Sorry," Rorie whispered loudly. "Did I wake you when I came in?"

Trinity didn't answer the question verbally, she just narrowed her eyes. "This is way past curfew."

Rorie smiled as her mother joined her in the kitchen. "I know, but… you're not mad. Not even you could be mad tonight."

"Not even me?" Trinity smiled and wrapped her arms around her daughter, and they hugged for a long time before she said, "No, I'm not mad. There can be no doubt what you were up to."

"Clubbing!"

Trinity chuckled. "Ironically, I'll bet you were the only one not at the clubs tonight."

"Oh, trust me. The biggest party is at the lab. I've never seen everyone so into it, and we're not even close to being finished. I came home to get some of my old samples from my room. I want to compare them with the new insects we found in the core."

"At four in the morning?"

"Well… yes. Just for a little while."

She endured the silence as her mother examined her, scrutinizing her tired features, the slight caffeine-induced tremor in her hands, the fluorescent gobs clinging to her work clothes. Then, "What's that in your hair?"

"Oh. It's… a lily. Knight gave it to me." Rorie reached up and touched the flower's delicate petals and couldn't help but smile, but she forced the grin from her face as quickly as it had appeared. She felt foolish for taking such joy in this small gift, especially in light of everything they had discovered. How silly that she had been casually brushing her fingers against the silky folds all evening, imagining Knight wading through the water to claim it, flattered that he'd thought of her.

Rorie's heart fluttered but she willed the arrhythmia away, knowing that she was being overly emotional. It was the insomnia, the surreal excitement of the news that was to blame for the impropriety of her feeling. Perhaps she should try to get some rest.

"Rorie?" Her mother was looking at her with a penetrating, knowing gaze that collapsed her self-control and made her want to burst into tears, and she didn't know why.

"What?" she blurted defensively, raising her hands to burning cheeks, realizing that she was being irrational, but she couldn't help it. "Mom, don't look at me like that. Please."

"I'm sorry." Trinity turned away, and Rorie heard her sigh. "Rorie… oh, Aurora." Again, a sigh. Then she said unexpectedly, "Did you have supper?"

"Huh?" Rorie blinked back her tears, breathing deeply and focussing her mind, wanting reclaim herself from whatever spell had come over her. She was embarrassed and confused, but something in her mother's tenor told her not to be. Trinity's expression was that of maternal concern for her erratic eating habits, nothing more. Rorie resolved with self-conscious relief that she must have imagined the suggestive gleam in her eyes. Like everything else, it was all in her mind. "No… I skipped supper," she replied, pleased to hear the casual tone in her own voice, revealing none of the internal tempest that still moved her.

"So let me make you something."

"No, I really… I have to get back."

"Aurora." Trinity touched her hand softly, but her voice was even with the tone she'd always used to indicate parental authority. "I'm still your mother. You can either get to bed now, or you can eat, and then go to bed. Your team won't benefit from the input of an exhausted bug expert."

Rorie smiled. It was the first time her mother had ever acknowledged her as part of the SRP, or as an entomologist for that matter (even if she couldn't bring herself to say entomologist). "I am a little hungry."

"So what meal are you at? Breakfast, dinner? I'm not sure what qualifies at this point."

"You'll make me anything?" Rorie asked. "Anything I want?"

"What? Niobe doesn't take requests? Or does this eager intonation in your voice mean you've been missing my cooking?"

Although the question was posed in a light hearted manner, the reminder of their recent quarrelling was heartfelt. They'd both said some horrible things to each other, Rorie remembered with a pang of regret. "I'm sorry about that," she said quietly, choosing her words carefully to indicate her apology was for their argument, not her decision to apply to the army. "I behaved badly. And I shouldn't have moved out. It was a childish way to deal with our disagreement."

"Mmm." Her mother's semi-syllable was unreadable, signifying that she had not decided how to proceed. Rorie knew her well enough not to be intimidated by the stoic response, but rather to wait patiently for her to continue. Finally, Trinity said, "You didn't tell me what you wanted to eat."

It wasn't a change in subject. She could tell her mother was about to discuss something important, and had probably just mapped out the next ten minutes of their conversation in her mind (her father called her the 'grand chess master of verbal communication'). Rorie knew her fate was already decided, and the only variable left was what her mother would cook. "Chutney," Rorie said, making the first move with a bold, confident choice of dish. "Spicy chutney."

"Okay then." Trinity found the found the wok and dripped in some oil and diluted acetic acid, manipulating the pan to cover the entire surface. She set it down on the stove to heat and handed Rorie the chopping block. "But you're slicing the nuts."

Rorie wasn't surprised by the condition. She always chopped the nuts; her parents had implemented it like a punishment ever since she'd smugly criticised her father's mincing technique when she was twelve. Silently accepting the consequences of her actions, Rorie found the tin of nigella and fennel seeds, combining them with a mixture of large ghee nuts on the plastic slab. These were scarce commodities in Zion, and it was far more likely for families to use flavoured protein cubes in the place of the real thing. Her parents were fortunate to have friends in the Department of Food and Agriculture who periodically made gifts of the best crops.

Even the exotic combination herbs her mother used were uncommon. Most people didn't even know asafoetida and curry existed, and if they did, they probably had tasted neither. These delicacies were the rare successes of genetic experiments with remnants of plant DNA, celebrated privately and circulated around to Zion's most well to do as if they were illicit drugs, given as bribery for political favours, or simply as a way to show off. Nobody else knew it, but Rorie was wont to sneak handfuls of the gifts into their monthly donations to the Orphans, hoping to relieve some of her guilt when enjoying them later. And as she spooned the chunks of nuts and seeds on top of the sizzling mushrooms her mother had just added to the wok, Rorie prayed that Genesis would change everything. Not just the way people ate, but the way people thought. Their hierarchical society was too set in its ways, too jaded and pedantic. These days, Rorie questioned weather Zionist freedom was overrated. At least in the Matrix, people were driven to question authority, to fight for something better, be it all an illusion or not.

"Your father and I also brought something for you." Trinity said, measuring out a tablespoon of paprika and piperidine crystals that Hawk-Eye synthesized on the sly. "Check the fridge."

Rorie opened the small plastic box below the counter, stacked to the top with mushrooms and fresh alfalfa, and noticed a plastic bag with two plump, red balls in it. "What's this?"

"They're strawberries. We also found raspberries and some other wild fruits, which are being run through Tox. But those are fine. Try one."

Rorie picked the larger of the two, and rather than taking a bite, opted to put the entire thing in her mouth without a moment's hesitation. She nearly choked with surprise. "Oh my God," she groaned between bites, "That's amazing."

"That was my reaction... more or less." Trinity grinned and shook the pan to toss the ingredients once. She added a pinch of salt and a splash of liqueur. "Better than in the Matrix."

"You sent some to the lab, right?"

"That's what the other one is for. Don't tell your Dad I gave it to you to dissect. He wanted to save it."

"Thanks. But I can't promise I won't eat it myself."

"Oh, I think I know you better."

"You're right. I just wanted to be normal. Just for once."

"Don't aspire to be anything less than you are, Aurora."

Rorie rolled her eyes at the adage her mother had ingrained into her since childhood. "You're using my full name a lot tonight," she said.

"I guess I am. It suits you. The full name." Trinity took a fork from the top drawer and stabbed at the sizzling mixture. She blew on a sliced mushroom and said pensively, "You look older to me tonight. Something's different."

Rorie knew she wasn't just musing. Her mother did not muse, at least aloud. She was going somewhere, and wishing she'd get to it, Rorie said impatiently, "Well, there's Genesis..."

"Mmm. Try this. I know you like it crispy."

Knowing Trinity was teasing her, she groaned and took the fork, nearly burning her tongue in her haste to move their conversation forward. "It's fine," she said before even chewing it. Then, realizing she'd spoken too soon, "No. Well, maybe a few minutes more."

Trinity grinned as if the admission were a personal victory. But then she began without preamble, "We've analyzed our sensor data from the Sentinel attack to derive our flight path. Our entry point into Genesis is located in the North American continent, just above the forty-fifth parallel."

"Canada?"

"What was formerly known as Canada over a century ago, yes. Specifically, we're looking at southern Québec, just above of the Island of Montréal."

"You're kidding."

"Are you going to listen? Or am I going to hear all the jokes from you that I heard from your father?"

Rorie wiped the smirk off her face. "No."

"Geographically, the choice of location would seem to make some sense. It's as far as possible from the Machine City, and Canada was largely ignored as a tactical target during the nuclear holocaust. Pollution would be at a minimum, and Québec is known to have the highest percentage of clean freshwater lakes in North America."

"But it's cold. I mean, we'd always assumed vegetation would first appear near the equator. Maybe Central America. Or Columbia or something."

"I don't know what to tell you. The climatologists are stumped as well. Tomorrow the army is sending a few scouting vessels to check the sewers and do a full analysis of Sentinel activity. Your father and I will be going with Niobe and Morpheus on the Logos to supervise." She turned the stove off and placed the pan on a ceramic hot pad on the counter. Trinity then indicated for her daughter to dig in. "You want something to drink with this?"

"Sparkling water."

Trinity pulled two bottles of carbonated mineral water from the fridge and set out some flatbread. "But the truth is we're not going just to supervise. We're going to jack back in."

"Why?" Rorie asked as they both ate from the large wok.

"This is classified," her mother specified, continuing without pause as they made eye-contact. "We've encountered Smith."

Rorie caught her breath, and for a moment she couldn't believe her mother was talking about the legendary Program turned Virus who had blinded her father and then assimilated him in 01. The demon who had tried to kill her mother more times than Morpheus could recall. The faceless monster from her childhood nightmares. But Rorie could tell from Trinity's expression that they she was talking about the Agent Smith. She swallowed her fear and attempted to look unaffected.

"Rorie," Trinity continued, touching her arm gently. "He killed Elisa and Indira. He nearly killed Ghost. But he let him go so he could summon us."

"That's why you left early? Dad didn't tell me…"

"No. And I wouldn't be telling you now if it weren't important. He was a messenger for a woman who claims to be in control of the machine Resistance movement. She claims to have control of their armies, and she also claims responsibility for the existence of Genesis. In fact, the apt designation comes from her."

"But why would a Program-"

"She isn't. She's human. Your father is certain of it. She calls herself Synergy."

The name evoked an eerie meaning for her, reminding her of the insects she'd been studying. "She created Genesis? From inside the Matrix?"

Her mother didn't respond at first. "She's very… unique. This woman… this young woman. She's very much like your father."

"She can feel the machines, manipulate the code?"

Trinity again seemed to consider her answer cautiously, as if not wanting to admit what she was thinking. But she lowered her voice, and continued, "Yes, she's very powerful, much more powerful than anything we've encountered. It's our belief that she's in control of the Matrix, blocking administrative control protocols and deleting machine peacekeepers. My hypothesis is she's holding the system hostage to prevent the Machines from unplugging her. It's probably the only thing keeping her alive right now. But…" she ran a hand through her messed hair, and Rorie could tell that what she was about to say went beyond what she revealed to the Council. "There's something about her. It isn't just her ability to push the code. She reminds me of your father… I don't…"

When Trinity abruptly broke off and absently scooped some juice and diced nuts onto her flatbread, Rorie tried to decide what to say. Her mother had never been this earnest with her before; it was as if she'd come home having made the decision to speak to her as an adult, as an equal for the first time. And now that she was being accorded the privilege she thought she'd never earn, Rorie was at a loss for words. "Do you trust her?" she asked finally, deciding that above all else, this was the critical question.

"No," Trinity answered without hesitation. "Although I believe her desire to end this war is sincere, I know she's hiding something. But it's… more than that…" she spoke under her breath, as if forgetting Rorie was there, "God, I haven't felt this way since we unplugged Neo. Maybe she's the Seventh. Maybe that's it. She seems to have Smith eating from the palm of her hand, the Sentinels follow her instructions, more or less…"

"She directed the insects."

Trinity looked up at her, nodding. "I believe so."

"So what does she want?"

"I think she wants out. And she believes eliminating the Matrix is the only way to make that happen. A new peace with the Machines entailing the freedom of every man, woman and child. But I can't imagine how she'd convince them to shut it down… at the very most, they'll kill her and reboot."

"Mom, the insects are solar powered. They feed off the sun and store enormous amounts of energy in power cells wired into their abdomens. You have to take a look at it. You'd probably be able to decipher the mechanics better than I could. What if she wants to establish solar energy as the basis for life in 01? They wouldn't need us anymore."

"They'd never… Rorie, the Machines would never give up the crops."

"Even if they were presented with a far more efficient means of producing and strong power?"

"They'd continue to enslave us out of spite. You don't understand how they think, how determined they are…"

Rorie sighed at her mother's limited view of their mechanical oppressors. It was a characteristic of all pod-borns, and although she couldn't blame them, it made progressive discussion difficult. "What if not all of them thought that way? Or what if… what if Synergy and her renegade army were holding Genesis ransom until the machines accepted her terms?"

Trinity reflected for a few moments. Quietly, darkly, "She doesn't know who she's dealing with. She thinks she does, but she doesn't. Genesis could be a very dangerous place to be, Rorie."

Her heart sank. But before her mother could tell her she couldn't join the project, Rorie had to speak her thoughts. She'd never felt so strongly about anything in her life. "I know it's dangerous. But… Mom, isn't it worth it? How can the price of this discovery be too high? Look, I can't fight for this city in the Matrix. I can't earn my place in Zion the way you do, the way Dad does. And yet they look up to me. The worship me on simple faith. They call me their Saviour. And although I know I can never live up to that… well, this is what I can do. The people deserve change. I want to help make that happen for them. And for me."

Her mother listened to every word with the impassive expression of one who had already made up her mind. "If all goes well, the SRP should be sending research teams up by the end of the week," she said. "Your Dad and I would endorse your application to join them. If you want, I'll tell Neo to speak to Malcolm Baines."

Rorie was hugging her mother before she finished the sentence, trying to hold back tears, hardly believing what she'd just heard. "You mean it?"

"No. I was joking. You're not going anywhere. Ever."

Rorie chuckled and hugged her tighter. "I love you."

"I know." Trinity pulled back and cupped Rorie's face in her hands, wiping the bottoms of her eyes with her fingertips. "I'm proud of you, Rorie. You know that, don't you? I really am."

Rorie only answered by crying some more, unable to express what that meant to her. Her mother wasn't given to communicating her feelings often. And as much as Rorie always knew that she was the pride of both her parents, to hear the words said made her go to pieces. It was all she'd ever striven for, her mother's esteem above all else. Her whole life, that was the unattainable goal. And ever since she'd taken up the study of biology and chemistry at the expense of her engineering projects, she'd felt as if she'd let Trinity down. That her unconventional passion was her mother's secret shame.

"I want you to promise me something before you go," Trinity said once Rorie had dried her eyes on her sweater. She held her at arm's length and spoke with a gravity that commanded her attention. "No matter what you encounter… on the surface, on a mission, or in life. Whatever you do, I want you to follow your heart, always. This," she pressed her hand to Rorie's chest, and for a moment it looked as if her mother might cry as well. But Trinity held it in, keeping her eyes locked on her daughter's, voice soft, calm and even. "This is the most precious gift you have. It has guided you this far. To success, to your passion, to your purpose. Trust it. Use it as a compass above all other things. And give it only to one who deserves it, to the one who knows what a treasure you are, who would give you his heart in return without a moment's hesitation."

Rorie's pulse quickened as the thought of Knight teased her senses, and this time she let him linger awhile in her consciousness, almost hoping he could be the one. The truth was, ever since she was ten, he'd been the handsome older boy, four years her senior, charismatic and rebellious, the object of many of the other girls' affections. She hated it when they flirted with him, and even more when he flirted back. She'd wanted him for herself always, but it had never been in a romantic sense. He was her best friend, the one she'd decided to trust in a world of users and gossips, people who would betray her confidence in a moment for the chance to tell a good story (she'd learned this lesson the hard way). But immediately, Rorie had sensed that he wasn't like all the others; he was too genuine, too completely himself to be insincere. And her mother, her most admired role model, trusted him. This, above everything else, was what had allowed Rorie to let her guard down. She had never once regretted that decision, and now she couldn't imagine a day without him.

And although she'd admitted it to no one, once she'd been old enough to dream of romance, to imagine dating, kissing and lovemaking, Rorie had always toyed with the idea of its being Knight. That one day, a long time in the future, if she ever did fall in love, it would be with him. She couldn't think of being comfortable enough to explore such intimate feelings with anyone else. And then, two days ago when the Neb had gone missing… Rorie couldn't remember it without feeling nauseous. To lose her parents, to lose David was to lose her entire life, everyone who'd ever loved her was gone, her entire past had been erased. But Knight. To lose Knight felt different. To lose him was like losing her future.

"But how do I know? How do I know that I'm not just…" Rorie hardly noticed she'd said it out loud, only barely whispering the question she'd asked herself more than once since seeing him again. If she was wrong, she'd lose him forever. It frightened her to change a friendship as perfect as theirs, to risk it because of a fleeting flutter of her heart, a momentary lapse in control.

Trinity lifted the amber bound beetle off her chest, studying the talisman before saying quietly, "You're willing to risk your life for this. For the chance to see Genesis, you'd give everything?"

"Yes," she said, not hesitating in her answer, although the idea scared her.

"So when you find someone as important to you, as precious as this is… you'll know. And you'll see it in his eyes. That he'd give anything and everything for you, too."

A chill seized her body as the danger of what lay ahead began to sink in. Rorie had always considered herself a brave person, but suddenly, she was facing the future without a safety net. What she'd always wanted, freedom, independence, was hers to take, and for the first time, she realized that the adventure of life came at a price. And as her fingers folded into her fists like sticks of ice, blood running cold, she understood her mother's trepidation to let her go. Suddenly, it was all so real.

"I promise," Rorie said, curling her hands up in the ends of her sleeves. "And tell Dad not to say anything to Dr. Baines. I'll go to his office. I'll get the position on my own. I've earned it."

"Alright. My Only." Trinity said, nodding her approval. "And you're okay? Will you be able to sleep?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"I'm getting up at nine. Want me to wake you?"

Rorie smiled. Her mother hadn't woken her up since she'd adopted Pyro, and she missed it. Her soft hand on her face, lips on her forehead as she whispered promises of breakfast… "Yeah. Nine."

She offered to clear the dishes but her mother wouldn't hear of it, so Rorie thanked her for the midnight snack, and then thanked her again 'for everything,' hoping she knew what her advice and blessing meant to her. In truth, she'd never felt so close to her mother. Although they loved each other very much, Rorie never thought she really understood her. But tonight, everything Trinity had said made perfect sense, as if she already knew exactly what she was thinking, what she was going through.

Is this how her mother had felt as she watched Thomas Anderson on the Matrix feed over twenty years ago, Rorie wondered? She thought of the way her parents often gazed at each other, of how sometimes, when her mother wasn't looking, her father would watch her from across a room, the expression in his eyes unmistakable. He worshipped her. None of it went unnoticed, the way they laughed together at things that weren't funny, the way they kissed and touched, mistakenly under the impression they were alone. Rorie had happened upon them at countless inopportune moments, always reacting with a disgusted expression and a quick turn of her head. But the truth was it gave her comfort her to know that they were so in love, that the two most important people in her life were always taken care of, that they were happy. Rorie wondered if Knight could ever look at her with such adulation, if he could ever need her as her parents needed each other.

Rorie stared at herself in the mirror as she untied her hair and slipped into a long ivory lace nightgown, bunching the fabric in her hands and pulling it tightly around her curves in scrutiny. She was slender and dainty, but much too short for her liking. And she wished herself less pale, the pallor of her skin contrasting radically with the long tresses of jet black hair which tumbled to her waist. It was not in fashion to be so white, and most girls her age frequented tanning boutiques (being a scientist, however, Rorie knew better). Perhaps if she were a little curvier, she thought, she'd look more mature, more feminine. With more voluptuous hips and a fuller breast…

Do not aspire to be anything less than you are.

She let the fabric of her nightclothes hang loose as her mother's voice echoed in her thoughts. No, Rorie didn't wish herself any different; she was not so insecure as to compare her physical appearance to Zionist ideals of beauty. Still, as she climbed into bed and examined the wilted lily Knight had slipped into her bun that afternoon, Rorie wondered if he thought she was beautiful. Of course, he'd told her as much many times, always complimenting her when they went out, telling her she was the envy of every other girl in the room, teasing her by claiming she was torturing all the boys with her unattainable charms. But she'd never tortured him. He'd never looked at her with anything like desire; he'd never touched her as if he wanted something more.

She felt an involuntary flush as she realized that she wanted him to. She wanted him to touch her, if only to know what it would be like. Her hand on her chest, over her stomach, tentatively teasing the delicate places between her thighs, she wondered what his lips would feel like against hers. But she stopped herself short of fulfillment, not willing to surrender her body to the fantasy. She cried, wishing herself indifferent, fearing he'd think less of her if he discovered her secret, knowing nothing would ever be the same between them.

But it wasn't long before her sobs subsided and sleep granted her sanctuary, all thoughts of him dissolving behind the veil of her unconscious. She didn't notice as the flower she still held slipped from her fingers onto the pillow beside her, or that two golden-winged beetles fluttered through the darkness as she slept, circling her, landing on her hair, her arms, scanning her body curiously with thin beams of light. They crawled around the lily, resting on the petals, and dipped in and out of the centre, playing a game of chase between the filaments.

It was only when Rorie shifted in her sleep, revealing the amber orb around her neck that the insects ceased their fun and took notice. They buzzed about in an excited fury, knocking against the submerged beetle, scanning the object repeatedly as if to be sure of its authenticity. Data stored in their memory chips, the pair faltered for a moment, and then in a frenzy, they zoomed from the room, escaping under her bedroom door, leaving a brief trail of light behind them.

And as Rorie turned again in bed, the base of her neck and collarbone glowed with a complex pattern of fluorescent green markers, a message written in a language no human had ever spoken.