a/n: well, here it is... the chapter I know many of you have been waiting for .It has been through the editing machine again and again... so many times that I have lost all perspective. So I leave it to my esteemed Readers...I hope you enjoy.

And thanks as always to everyone who continues to review. All the best& love- Syd.

Chapter 24
someone to watch over me (2)

Knight would never forget how beautiful she'd looked in that moment, face lit by the moon, starlight sparkling in her eyes. It was just as he'd claimed the first time he'd seen her, 'les yeux comme des étoiles.' Only this time, she wasn't a melancholy child gazing at him in sleepy distaste. Rorie was a woman, a scientist, an explorer who had journeyed from afar to discover a new world. And as she stepped off her ship onto the earthen soil of Genesis, sublimely wonderstruck as he knew she would be, Knight felt himself fall in love with her all over again.

She didn't notice him right away, head arched up towards the heavens, a beatific smile gracing her lips. The cold had bitten at Rorie's cheeks, giving her skin a slightly blushed hue, and a breeze blew through loose hair that had come undone from her bun. Knight wouldn't notice the tailored navy blue uniform until later, not until after he had finished basking in her joy, and in his own, at having seen her at long last. At being close enough to reach out and touch her, finally.

When Rorie saw him she began to cry, and covered her mouth with her hand. Sobbing, she threw her arms around him so tightly, he was able to lift her from the ground and spin her around with such enthusiasm, they both burst into laughter. She seemed to want to examine him, to look him over thoroughly, eyes and hands all over his face, chest and arms, either to prove that she wasn't dreaming, or to check that he hadn't been hurt; Knight couldn't tell which. But when Rorie finished she seemed immensely satisfied with whatever she'd found, and hugged him again, this time less fiercely, her head under his chin, nestled under the palm of his hand. He could feel her heartbeat, and it was racing, her eyes closed tight as she let him hold her for a very long time.

But a crowd had gathered around them, and Knight was forced to let her go, as Rorie was greeted in the shipyard by several council members who extended offerings of flowers and fruit, 'welcoming her on behalf of the people of Zion.' She accepted the gifts graciously, as she always did, though Knight could tell she was a little bewildered by the entourage. Her first inquiry (once she was allowed a word in edgewise) was about her parents, who were both on their way, having been on the other end of the settlement when they heard she'd arrived.

Trinity, in fact, broke into a run when she saw the gathering. After squeezing through sheaves of people to reach her daughter, she practically collided with Rorie in a hug, and it was probably safe to say that only Knight knew just how much that embrace meant to both women. Especially to Trinity, whose chilling nightmare was still fresh in his mind, her angst-filled voice ringing in his ears. Poor Trin. He couldn't begin to imagine how she was coping with everything. Often, he had the impulse to drug her coffee with benzodiazepines so she'd get some rest, if only for a few hours. They could all use it, he thought, after what they'd been through.

But it was not to be. In the true spirit of Zionist joie de vivre, Genesis frowned upon people who slept at night. Especially returning war heroes (it was said that if the sentinels didn't kill you, the homecoming parties certainly would). Though tonight, The Daughter of The One was to be the celebrated guest of honor. The dancing and revelry at the waterfront was already well underway, where Rorie was serenaded with traditional music and presented with strange new delicacies - bitter berries served in the mouths of orchids, sweet sorbet floating in glasses of chilled liqueur, chocolate fudge wrapped in mint-leaves. But most enchanting to everyone was the spectacular view of the lake, which twinkled with hundreds of tiny flames. Upon closer inspection, the dazzling visual was achieved by candles fastened to makeshift rafts carved from wood, which had been set afloat to welcome Neo, Trinity and their daughter to the surface.

Rorie watched her first sunrise from the rocky shore, leaning back against her father's chest, his arms around her in a strikingly protective gesture. The sky seemed especially enthusiastic that morning, though perhaps Knight was only imagining it, that the brilliant spirals of green and fuchsia skating across the sky were actually more vivid this time. Certainly, his imagination was responsible for many strange sights, because he could have sworn that as Rorie stood securely in Neo's embrace, a swarm of golden lightning bugs sparkled around her body, gently resting on her shoulders and the gossamers of her hair. Like a crown, or a halo. And it was this kind of magic that gave Knight a glimmer of hope that perhaps, there was an end to this war in sight, after all.

Strangely inspired to romance her, he strayed from the party at one point, wading through the knee-deep crystal water to pluck a lily from its stem. Granted, Knight felt a little foolish doing it now, only because Rorie had access to an entire forest of flowers, and in fact, one of the bouquets handed to her by the councilors had been composed wholly of white and purple lilies. But it seemed like the thing to do; he wanted to surprise her again and put it in her hair, to remind her of their last night together. To remind her of the night he'd fallen in love, even if she had not realized it.

But it was more than a little embarrassing when he glanced up and saw Rorie standing on the shore, watching him wrestle gracelessly with the flower's strong, slippery stem. She was smiling, and had raised an eyebrow. 'Smooth,' Knight thought to himself, feeling his face burn. He did something stupid, like shrug with his palms up, and then took out his pocket-knife to make swift work of the plant that had just humiliated him.

"Stay there," she hollered. "I'm coming."

Rorie removed her boots and gathered her pants around her knees. She met him in a cluster of lily pads, and again, Knight was certain the fireflies were following her.

"It's cold," she said, running her fingers over the sparkling the surface. "And... wet. Much wetter than the water in Zion. I'm very impressed."

They both laughed, and she accepted his gift into the braided bun on top of her head. "Une fleur pour La Fleur."

The music was still playing and the fiddler had just shifted into the slow melody of a Zionist wartime ballad. Closing time.

"Would you like to dance, Rorie?" Knight heard himself say, with a suave tone he didn't know he had.

She started and blinked once, brown eyes mildly alarmed. But he already had her hand in his, and submerged as she was, Rorie could hardly move away. She nodded, and he took her to him, privately reveling in how lovely she felt, falling deeper by the moment. Or perhaps it was sinking deeper. The lakebed was slimy and porous, and try as they may, it was impossible to move their feet smoothly through the sludge. She clutched his shoulders to keep her balance, and after some adjustment they settled for swaying slowly, her arms around his neck, both of them descending into silence. They danced for awhile, and little by little he found himself leaning in closer, hands pressing to the small of her back, thumb subtly stroking. She seemed to snuggle up to him at this, and rested her head on his shoulder. He rubbed a circle on her back. And she spun her finger around a curl in his hair.

He could sense that she was aware of their unspoken conversation; Rorie knew him too well not to notice how he'd changed. And he knew her too well not to realize that she had, too. She let herself melt into him, her body and his connecting in what seemed to be an unspoken agreement which he couldn't ignore or deny. Knight turned his head and brushed his lips to her ear, and whispered her name, like a question, like a plea.

Neither of them saw it coming; they must have been deaf and blind to everything but each other. The splash drenched her completely, educing a surprised screech as an equally gobsmacked soldier emerged from the lake, gasping and glaring back at the group of friends who'd tossed him in. They hooted and pointed, bending over and hugging themselves in glee, until they saw that they'd also soaked Neo's daughter, at which point they looked around nervously. They yelled their best apologies, and one ran as fast as he could for a towel.

"You're alright?" Knight asked, as Rorie rung her shirt, blushing furiously.

"Mmm," was all she offered, not looking at him. Then she forced a laugh. "Definitely wetter than in Zion."

"You know where your quarters are?"

She fumbled for a moment as they stepped onto the shore, eyes still everywhere but on him. "It's uhm…" she took a magnetic security pass from her pocket and read the back. "Oh, God. It's in a cluster called… Trinity's India."

He chuckled. "Sorry. That's my fault."

"Hum?"

"Once, when we docked to charge, I had a few drinks at the canteen and started referring to your mom as 'Captain Columbus'. After that, everyone here began calling her that. And now the planners must have picked up on it. Don't tell Trin I started the whole thing, though. I've been denying it for weeks."

Indeed, if anything, Trinity should have been flattered. Her India consisted of a handful of comfortably spaced wood-metal hybrid residences, all rather large compared to Zionist homes, and certainly the finest accommodations in Genesis. Most generals and councilors were assigned here (not to mention the Columbuses themselves), and as Knight carried her luggage along the serene trail, Rorie commented that she'd filed for housing in the scientific district, but had been reassigned. Baines probably had something to do with it, she claimed dryly, because he most likely thought he'd earn points for the favor.

And what a favor. Her private cabin was nestled in a cluster of silver birches, and faced the water to offer a view of the surrounding mountains. And when Rorie opened the door, both of them fell silent and gaped, open-mouthed, at what they found. The main room was sparsely furnished in the usual metal desk, table, and bed, but every visible surface was covered with some of the most exquisite gifts either of them had ever seen. Exotic flowers seemed to be the most popular offering, with bouquets of ivory orchids, scarlet pimpernels and blue phlox scenting the room in a subtle perfume, brightening the cozy space with every color imaginable. On the floor by their feet were baskets of rose petals and pomegranate seeds, over which Rorie nearly tripped in her amazement. She said nothing as she marveled at the festoons of richly dyed fabrics draped over the windows and heaps of overstuffed pillows on the bed.

They were birthday gifts, in keeping with the Zionist tradition of honoring a young lady's eighteenth year as cause for great ceremony. Culturally, she was becoming a woman, and there were many rituals and symbolic offerings associated with the occasion. Gift-giving was commonplace, but in Rorie's case, rather excessive.

"I think I found the frankincense," Knight quipped, isolating a corner of free space to set down the fragile laboratory equipment that she hadn't trusted with the general maintenance crews.

Rorie was hardly listening. She was standing by a full-length mirror, reaching out to touch what was undoubtedly the most magnificent item in the room. It was a long, empire waist gown, made of a material so foreign, he couldn't readily identify it. Perhaps raw silk? It was pure white, decorated with golden beads and tiny crystals around the breast. It reminded Knight of a photograph he'd seen of Trinity in her wedding dress, a deep blue gown that had the same weightless grace to it. Rorie's was the Genesist version, created to rest on the shoulders of nothing but the apex of Zionist nobility.

She read the card that accompanied it. "It's from my parents. For the coming-out ceremony next week."

"It's beautiful."

"I told them not to." She ran her hands over the fabric. "I can't imagine wearing it."

"I can."

She looked up at him, and neither said a word. Knight could feel the gravity of the moment weighing down on his shoulders, and he could tell she was conscious of it, too. They were finally alone. And it could not have been more surreal, in what could have passed for an empress' dressing room, rather than in their usual surroundings of a laboratory or a shipyard. But none of it mattered. All Knight could see was her.

They were tense, expecting, wondering which one of them was going to begin, which one of them would be the first to speak, to venture into the unknown. Rorie's clothes were still a little damp from the incident at the lake, but she didn't make any move to excuse herself to change. And Knight wasn't going to suggest it. Both of them knew that wasn't the real reason they'd come here.

Feeling obliged as the male, he opened his mouth to speak, to stammer tactlessly goodness knows what, when Rorie's soft, careful words saved him from the folly.

"I got your last letter," she said, letting out a sigh and closing her eyes for a long beat. He knew that sequence of gestures. She'd made some sort of decision. "I wrote you back…"

His mouth was dry. "You did?"

"I didn't send it. I didn't know if I wanted to. Or… I guess I didn't know if you wanted me to." She laughed nervously and looked at her hands. "But... now that you're here, Knight… and, the way you look at me... somehow, I'm not afraid anymore."

He couldn't move, frozen in place as his heart caught in his throat, wondering at her meaning. She opened her messenger bag and retrieved a laboratory notebook, opening it at a place marked by a dried lily, its petals pressed and flaking away. She caught his eyes one last time before looking down at the page, and her hands shook a little as she read,

"Dearest Knight,

A dam has broken in me, and that which circumstance prevents me from speaking, let it flow from my heart to my fingertips to this sheet of paper, to you. Only to you, who will keep it safe forever; I trust that completely. Keep it as a guarded secret between two lifelong friends, or as a treasured gift of something much more. But either way, Knight, as you endure the perils of war in the cold, unyielding darkness, you should know that somewhere, very far away, I have been thinking of you.

Know that if my tears could bring you home, we would have been reunited long ago. Know that if the depth of my feeling could move the hearts of man and machine, then nothing would remain but peace. But I possess none of this magic, and who I am, all that I have become, all achieved with the blessing of your boundless friendship, I fear will crumble and rot away if you do not return safely to me. I cannot continue alone, Knight. I'm… lost. And I'm frightened… because, you see, I cannot live without you. My dearest friend... my only love..."

It was here that she looked up, voice broken with emotion, unable to continue as Knight rediscovered sensation in his legs enough to rush across the room and take her in his arms. She gasped at the force with which he swept her up for the second time in so many hours, this time completely overcome, whispering her name into her ear, "Rorie… my Rorie."

At hearing this she laughed through her sobs, and the sound of it brought similar gasps of joy from him, so much so that their first kisses were barely maintained in the exchange of involuntary giggles and chuckles, until finally their lips met in earnest. He held the back of her head and cradled her jaw as they drew each other in deeper and deeper, locked together tightly, nearly desperately. But it wasn't enough; nothing could be enough to express what he felt, how much he adored her. So when Rorie broke away to catch her breath, he pulled her still closer and pressed his lips against the delicate contours of her cheekbones, her eyelids and lashes, up to her forehead and into her hair.

"Aurora. I've thought of nothing but you," Knight said onto the crown of her head. "All of you, since we've been apart. Every night, every morning… I'm yours, believe me. Forever. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you."

Rorie half laughed, half cried as she gazed up to meet his eyes. She was tearful but smiling, and for a moment it looked as if she were about to say something. But thinking better of it, she stopped herself, and took his face in her hands. Gently, she guided him down to her, pressing his mouth to hers, parting her lips to find her place, to fit herself to him perfectly. Rorie kissed him as a princess would kiss a knight, with reverent passion and soft, delicate intensity, showing neither wantonness nor reservation as her heat wrapped around them both like a velvet cloak. And with this noble embrace, intended to serve as a substitute for words neither of them could find, Knight gained boundless understanding.

Rorie didn't have to tell him that she loved him as much as he loved her. He could tell. He could tell she'd missed him so much it hurt, and he could tell she'd gone to bed thinking of him, reading and rereading his letters. And with that came faith. Faith that everything he wanted to give her, all his love and trust and devotion, would be cherished, kept safe, and reciprocated in kind. And faith that for the rest of his life, that would be enough.

Knight kissed her back, again and again, hoping she understood him as he did her, silently promising them both that somehow, he'd find some way to earn this gift. This graceful, dainty treasure in his arms, this ethereal beauty who knew him better than he knew himself, who had been his best friend for as far back as he cared to remember…

"Knight." The sound of his own name seemed to come from very far away, whispered so faintly he almost didn't hear it.

"Yes?"

"Can we sit and talk a little?" she asked, nudging him towards the bed. "I've missed the sound of your voice."

He smiled. This angel missed the sound of his voice. "I'll talk myself hoarse. Anything for you."

She chuckled, beaming as she took his hands, pulling him down with her onto a mattress so soft, it felt as though they'd sink right through. Rorie seemed as impressed as he was by it, grinning as she tentatively pressed her palms into the surface, running her fingers over the hand stitched coverlet. "They expect me to sleep on this? I'll never be able to get up..."

"Good. You can take the couch," he teased, leaning back onto the fluffy blankets as if to make claim to the territory. Rorie raised her eyebrows, and hesitated for only a moment before joining him, shifting onto her side and placing her head on his shoulder, hand on his chest.

"Or, we could share." Knight wrapped an arm around her. "Yes?"

"Yes." She snuggled closer. "One hundred times, yes."

Knight lost track of the time after that, as they lay together, just talking. They needed to talk, to reveal everything they'd held back in their correspondence, and to decode all the loosely disguised declarations of affection they'd each slipped into their letters. They laughed a little, and kissed quite a bit, bodies entwined by the time the conversation strayed to more general things. It didn't take long for Rorie to begin discussing her research, and as she described how she'd documented the life cycles of over a dozen species and subspecies of insects, Knight slowly unbraided her bun. He removed the fresh lily and placed it on the nightstand next to the dried one, then proceeded to comb through the crimpled locks with his fingers, losing his hands in cascades of jet black hair.

He could have stayed like this forever with her, just listening and touching, his hands lightly wandering over her curves. But somewhere along the way his fatigue caught up to him, and though Rorie was never boring, her voice was like a lullaby. Knight found himself drifting off several times before she eventually noticed, before his eyes fluttered open to the sensation of her fingertips brushing curls from his forehead. "Knight?"

"Yes, I'm listening. Ashen moths."

"No. That was ten minutes ago."

"I'm sorry."

She smiled. "It's alright. I like watching you sleep."

"Mmm. I noticed. That morning, on the couch? That's what you were doing, wasn't it?"

"Well, I couldn't look away," she admitted gingerly. "You were so adorable. Mummified in the blankets, curled up into the fetal position, like the cocooning stage of a prepubescent glow worm."

He chuckled and reached over her to take the edge of the comforter, pulling it snugly around them both. "Or in this case, two glow worms."

"How romantic."

"Oh? Is this how glow worms mate? Male encapsulates female?"

"Knight, glow worms are hermaphrodites. If you were listening to me earlier, you'd know that."

They laughed, and he wrapped them in the covers from his side to complete construction of their cocoon. Perhaps it was presumptuous, but it felt like the natural thing to do. He couldn't keep his eyes open, but neither could he bare separation. After weeks of falling asleep to the sound of distant explosions, Knight needed her company as much as he needed the rest. Rorie seemed to understand, and quietly held him close, just as he had done for her on the first night they'd met. Like they'd come full-circle, he thought. As if they were completing a nine year journey to this. To each other.

He was home. That's all Knight could think as he drifted off in her arms. Finally, he was home.

Chapter 25
someone to watch over me (3)

"Knight."

"Hm?"

"Tell me this isn't a dream."

He grinned, amused by the irony of a free-born asking a red-pill for a reality check. "This isn't a dream."

Rorie shifted under the covers in the glow of the afternoon sunlight, turning her head to kiss his neck, one hand finding bare skin beneath his top. "Are you sure?" she asked sweetly. "How can you tell the difference?"

He chuckled, thinking that this sounded very much like one of Captain Trinity's rhetorical pop quizzes. "Are you teasing me, Aurora-fair? Is this how things are going to be from now on?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, fingers blindly exploring his chest. "Haven't I always teased you?"

Knight turned onto his side to face her, momentarily taken by how beautiful she was, loose hair messily gathered around her face, eyelids still heavy from sleep. "Yes, you have," he replied softly, brushing a few locks back behind her ear. "I guess there are some things that will never change."

"I was so afraid that everything would change," she whispered. "I was terrified of losing our friendship. But at the same time, I couldn't help wanting something more. I was so confused."

"And now?"

"Now, it's as if none of that even happened. I can't even remember what it felt like, to think of you as only a friend. Isn't that so strange, Knight?"

"I love you."

"Well, that's a non sequitur," she chirped. "Were you even listening? Or has your chronic narcolepsy caught up with you again?"

"I love you." He smiled. "And before you start throwing all those geeky words at me again, no, that wasn't a non sequitur. It's just what I'm thinking, which is about one one-millionth of what I'm feeling. I'd be more articulate, but no other words come to mind."

In truth, it was only with a great deal of effort that Knight was keeping his hands off her. She'd woken him up with kisses and a little bit of hair-pulling, a playful mixture of the new and old that had ended with her pinned below him on the mattress, giggling against his lips. Then she'd asked him if they were dreaming (as if she were the one living her fantasy!)… stroking his chest with those soft fingers, purring into his ear. And with every intimate secret that Rorie confessed to him, it was like she was telling him about himself. His hopes, his fears, his desires. Knight had never imagined he could feel this close to anyone. Even her obnoxiously sophisticated vocabulary was arousing, because it was so much like her.

So when she kissed him, deeply and slowly, Knight could not suppress a small gasp at the contact, his body all tension, feeling and heat. Reflexively, he pushed against her, and Rorie responded with a barely audible whimper, finding his lower lip and nibbling gently, which nearly sent him over the edge of complete madness. And as their tongues met, legs entangling under the covers, he rubbed circles on her hips, wanting more than anything to touch her more intimately, but knowing it was too soon. He knew that with her, he wouldn't be able to stop. "Rorie."

"I know," she breathed back, sliding her hand out from under his shirt and resting her forehead on his. "I know. I'm sorry… I don't… I don't know yet."

"It's okay. Neither do I."

She sighed, and seemed to struggle a little with her next question, "How long do we have?"

"Five days shore leave. The Neb will be back every couple of weeks to recharge."

She held him tighter. "Oh, no. Knight... no."

"Just don't think about it. Not right now."

"I can't lose you."

There was such angst in her voice, and he couldn't bear to hear it. Knight found her hands squeezed them in reassurance. "You're not gonna lose me. I promise." She smiled faintly at this, and he nudged her shoulder. "You know, I have some pull with the captain. So maybe I could arrange for a few extra days' vacation."

This had the desired effect, and Rorie chuckled, albeit only half-heartedly. "Oh, my God. My mother."

"What?"

"I'm just thinking. You are in so. much. trouble."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he said. "I spent the past nine years seducing Trin so I could eventually have you. And I think I may have actually pulled it off. It must be genetic, you know? The women of this family really dig the Knight."

"Funny. You say that to my father's face, and I'll bet he would also really dig you."

"Dig me… a shallow grave, right?"

They laughed as she nodded. "You remember that night at the dock? You had me over your shoulder… I told you to put me down, and then he shows up and says…"

"I suggest you do as the lady says," they recalled together, andKnight winced and shook his head.

"On second thought, maybe we could try and keep this a secret courtship? For my sake."

"Well, good luck with that," she said, patting him on the shoulder in mock sympathy and rising from the bed. "You know what people say about my father. He's omniscient."

Knight frowned as he watched her walk over to the window, running a brush through her hair. If only that legend about The One were true. But in reality, he'd never seen Neo more lost. And he hoped that Rorie hadn't heard the worst of the fleet gossip which speculated as to why her parents were so aloof. Knight felt sick. He hoped even harder that Trinity hadn't heard the worst of it. The truth was bad enough. Never mind the truth with juicy embellishments.

"Now I know you aren't listening."

"Hum?"

Rorie was braiding her hair over her shoulder. "I said you owe me a trip to the lookout. I was thinking we could hike up tonight. Just you, me, one of these fruit baskets, and a telescope."

"You have a telescope?"

"Uh-huh. I've been very busy. I built it using scraps from the dock, and I can't wait to see if it works. I plan to use it to remap the sky… see what kind of cosmic events have transpired in the past six hundred years that we missed. You have to figure, in terms of stellar cartography, humanity has a lot of catching up to do."

Knight got up and took her in his arms, thinking that this was the geekiest, Roriest, most romantic first date he could imagine. "One thing, though. Deadbolt's giving a briefing at eighteen hundred. I have to go."

"It's fine. I'll head up early and set up before it gets dark. Meet me when you're done."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, it's probably all for the better, anyhow. I'll actually get some work done this way, before you show up and begin distracting me." She kissed him quickly and then checked her watch. "I'm getting a walking tour of the manmade trails this afternoon. So if I hurry, I can organize my bench and then the botanists can guide me up. Yes?"

"Yes."

She stared at him, and he at her, until she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "So you need to let me go, soldier."

"Oh." He grinned boyishly and feigned embarrassment as she slipped free. "Sorry, Rors."

"Do I get a vote for the pet name?"

"I suppose."

"You had it right earlier. Aurora-fair. I like the way you say my full name."

"Alright. Aurora-fair."

"That's better. Now go, so I can shower." She smiled, her eyes sparkling at him as she lifted her wrinkled navy top over her head, leaving her in a white, sleeveless undershirt. Knight couldn't help himself, and pulled her over to him, placing a few kisses on her shoulders, delighted to mark some new territory. It was only with a great deal of effort that Rorie was able to get him out the door, at which point he proceeded to drag her out with him, stumbling over the uneven ground with their lips still locked. She squeaked as he held her tightly in the afternoon sunlight, and it was only when Rorie waved over his shoulder with surprise and yelled, 'Oh, hi, Daddy!' that Knight was distracted long enough for her to slip free and race back inside.

As he looked about with alarm, Rorie laughed at him from the window, and tossed him her extra security card. "You're bringing the food. Don't forget. Or I'll go have a mother-daughter chat with Captain Columbus... and do you know what she does when she gets angry?"

"No."

Rorie grinned. "Neither does anyone else. Nobody's ever survived to tell the story."