a/n: Hello, eveyone- I'm sorry this update is coming a bit late- this chapter was written long ago, and I rewrote it, and then rewrote it again. I don't think I will ever be satisfied with it, and so I throw my hands up again and submit to Judgement (be kind, Readers).

I rate this chapter and now this story, M. Be warned, though it isn't much more intense than what was in The Last Exile (which I was told by many "wasn't that graphic") . So I guess I'm old fashioned- enjoy the romance, and the mystery!

-Syd

Chapter 29

Blanket wrapped around her shoulders and cup of tea in hand, Rorie stood by the window, staring out into the darkness. Worried, contemplative, introverted, and beyond this completely unreadable, even to Knight, who had been trying in vain for the better part of an hour now. She hadn't spoken a word since her parents left, since she'd declined their offer to spend the night in their cabin, saying she needed 'time.' It was an unusual request, and even more unexpected considering what she'd just been through. Not one of them liked it, but there was something in Rorie's tone that begged them not to push her.

Just as there was something in her expression now that told Knight to be patient, even though he wanted to wrap his arms around her so much it hurt. He'd almost lost her.

He swallowed hard as he tossed some more kindling onto the fire he'd been nursing in the hearth. He'd almost lost her, and he couldn't lose her. Not when they'd only just found each other. If Rorie had fallen over the edge of that cliff, Knight knew she would have taken him with her. If not physically, then surely spiritually, ripping away all sense of who he was and why he was here. He'd never have recovered. It terrified him to realize how close they'd come to disaster, how fleeting their happiness could have been.

He sat back on his heels next to the glowing embers, poking at them with a stick to busy his hands. But his eyes had wandered back to her already, assuring himself that she was still there, alive, and with him. He took in the details of her sharp profile, committing them to memory as if he'd never have the chance again. He studied her as she studied other things. Mysterious things. Things that he couldn't even imagine.

She looks so much like her father, he thought. Even more tonight, all of a sudden. It was in her manner, the way she held herself up straight, shoulders level, jaw set. Detached and immeasurably alert all at once. Knight had always wondered went through Neo's mind when he retreated into himself like this. He wondered if Trinity knew, if she understood Neo any more than he understood Rorie in this moment. She must. And what he wouldn't give for some of that magie noir right now.

A few large drops of rain tapped on the window, and Knight watched as Rorie raised her hand to the glass. Tap, tap, tap, she traced a line with her finger from one drop to the next, as if the phenomenon fascinated her, and as the drizzle intensified she slid the pane aside. Rorie reached her palm out gingerly to catch the teeming water, and as a wet, earthy breeze wafted into the room, something in him broke. Somehow, Knight just couldn't keep away.

His hand met hers under the steady shower, their fingers entwining as he slid his free arm around her waist. Rorie leaned back against him, sighing as he kissed the top of her head.

"You don't have to talk," he murmured. "Just let me hold you."

They listened to the smacking of rainfall on leaves, hands playing in the torrent as it came down harder and harder. The scent of her hair hung heavily in the humidity, and her tiny frame – too tiny, too fragile – pressed back onto him. Knight shut his eyes to the warmth between their bodies. Yes.

"Knight." Her voice shook.

"What is it?"

Rorie suddenly snatched her and in, as if the water had turned to fire. A booming crack ripped out from above, and she screeched.

"It's just thunder." He reached out and closed the window as the room flickered in an eerie white light. "And lightning."

Chest heaving, she frowned out at the storm for a few moments, and then looked into his eyes. "No. It isn't. It's them."

He wanted to ask the obvious question. Who? But she'd been all through this with her parents. She didn't know. They didn't know. Whatever had attacked her at the lookout, whatever was chanting in nonsensical code, whatever was angry enough to shriek so incessantly into her mind… Knight held her tighter. What could such an entity want with his Rorie?

"Are you sure you don't want to sit up with your parents?" he asked. "You father might-"

"My father lied to me."

It was so blunt and unanticipated, Knight through perhaps he'd misheard her.

"He lied to me about Synergy. That's what I've been thinking about all this time," she continued, sitting down on the bed, where he joined her. Rorie took a few moments to begin, finally finding the words with great difficulty. "He said he didn't know why she would be watching me. But he does know." She wasn't looking at him, strong brown eyes cast downwards as if she were ashamed of what she was saying. "And he isn't certain that she wouldn't try to hurt me. He's trying to defend her… he's afraid of her… but I don't know why."

Knight felt like a freshman struggling at a graduate seminar. He couldn't even come up with a question that didn't sound idiotically simplistic.

"I can sense what he's feeling, Knight. I don't know how. It just hit me like a wave when I mentioned Synergy's name. Like this connection that I can't explain… but I can tell that he is very attached to her, much more than any of us realized."

Knight hesitated before replying, "I don't know how many of the rumors you've heard about-"

"No, it isn't an affair. When he looked at Mom… it was like…God, he loves her so much, Knight. It's the one thing that came through clearly. And yet, he feels so alone."

There was silence as Knight considered all that she'd just said. That she could sense her father's feelings was no more fantastical than what had happened up on the bluff. No more fantastical than the things he had seen Neo do to agents in the Matrix, or to sentinels in the real world. It was easily conceivable that Rorie had inherited some of her father's abilities, or a variation of them, but nothing she was experiencing seemed to make any sense.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not doing a very good job of expressing myself. I probably sound like one of those gypsies who read auras at the bazaar for change..."

Rorie trailed off, eyes wandering over to the window. "And they still won't leave me alone," she said, brow furrowed. "They keep… screaming. I can't understand… there's too much data. I'm not a machine; I can't process it all so fast-"

"Shh. Come here." Knight gently took Rorie's jaw in his hand, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. She leaned into the caress, prompting him to brush her forehead and temple with his other hand, touching as if to smooth away the tension, which seemed to help.

"Just kiss me," she whispered as they drifted closer. "Please."

Perhaps she could read his mind as well? Knight leaned forward and pressed his lips onto hers. He did it delicately, almost afraid to show her how much he needed this, how desperate he was to feel her close to him again. It was terrible; he wanted to be a source of strength for her, but the truth was, he was only barely holding it together.

But he broke the kiss almost as soon as it started, feeling something rise up into his throat. He looked away and took a deep breath.

"Knight, what's wrong?" she asked.

He found it difficult to articulate the words aloud. "I almost lost you tonight." he said softly. "It scared the hell out of me, Rorie. And now, I want to protect you… but I don't know how. I don't have any idea how to help."

"You saved me," she argued, smiling, though he could tell she was still shaken as well. "You were meant to save me."

"Your mother saved you," he replied. "If she hadn't sent me after you…"

Rorie lifted her hand to his lips. "I know. And it frightened me, too. I thought, if I'd fallen, you'd never know how much… how much I love you. And I do, Knight. So much."

At this she kissed him, showing him just how raw she really was. It was frantic, even desperate, her eyes shut tight. He answered in kind, surrendering to her completely, letting her take him with her as she moved her mouth to his chin, jaw, and neck, with deep, passionate kisses. His body tingled, and he pulled her onto his lap, needing to feel her against him, as close as possible. Nothing in the entire world made sense to him but this.

He'd almost lost her. The thought seemed burned into his mind as he gripped her arm, the back of her head, feeling her breasts on his chest as he pressed her to him, as she began to tug at his shirt as if she wanted it off.

"Rorie."

"No. Don't let go of me."

"Never."

"I'll fall apart."

"You won't; I've got you."

Another roll of thunder grumbled from above, and Knight noticed her register some kind of grim recognition at the sound. She took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. "There isn't any reason to wait any longer, is there? Not for us, Knight…"

The weighted cadence of her voice left no doubt in his mind what she was asking. And though the question caught him off guard, he knew the answer instantly. "No. There's no reason," he replied, knowing they were meant to be together. "There's only you, and me."

"Then, I don't want to wait. Stay with me tonight, and then the universe can fall on our heads tomorrow."

"It won't fall."

"But…what if it does?"

"Then we'll catch it."

She smiled, and there was a sudden joy in her, underneath everything, that tugged at him internally, that made him want to give her anything that she asked for. "Isn't it crazy that I believe you?" she said. "That all you have to do is say it, and I feel like I could hold up the entire sky? The sun in one hand and the moon in the other…"

"And I'd weave the stars into a crown for you to wear on your head," he finished the fantasy while gazing at her longingly. "I guess it does sound crazy. But somehow, it doesn't feel that way, does it?"

"No," she replied softly. "It doesn't."

"It feels right."

Rorie wrapped her arms around his neck and held him in a long embrace, like the ones they used to enjoy back when they were friends. They were going to do this, he realized with a deep breath. And he knew it was going to be wonderful. It couldn't be anything else, not with her. "I'm so happy I'm in love with you," she whispered his own thoughts to him. "I've always wanted it to be you, Knight. And under it all, I think I've always known it would be."

"God, Rorie."

She ignited something in him that was beyond his ability to articulate. He could find no way to tell her all that he felt; there was no language to capture the essence of his boundless devotion. The only thing that came close was their kissing, their touching, the raw and affecting pleasure of running his hands over her curves, feeling her tighten, then melt beneath him. They begun slowly, kissing almost too softly as he pulled the pins from her hair, letting it tumble onto her shoulders, down to her waist. She was impossibly beautiful, unspeakably prepossessing, and he told her so as she crawled over the mattress to turn off the bedside lamp. He found himself transfixed on her shape, the way her body moved as she stretched to reach the bulb, then turned back to look at him in the firelight. "Touch me," she said.

The scent of her washed over him as he lifted her sweater over her head, exposing ivory skin and the exquisite lace underclothes which served as a reminder of exactly whom he was undressing. He worshipped her accordingly, mouth tracing the boundary between soft satin and softer breasts, as she sighed, hands in his hair. A tug brought him back up, and she found his lips again, pulling his top over his head. "You ironed it for me?" she asked sweetly, grinning into their kiss. He laughed and nodded, which ended in a gasp when her fingers brushed over the line of plugs on his back. Rorie froze beneath him, letting her hands drift away. "I'm sorry. Would you rather I not touch them?"

Knight could hardly imagine that she'd want to. They were ugly, terrible things. And if she were anyone else, he'd probably answer her in the affirmative. But it was Rorie, and so it would be wrong to limit her access. "I don't mind," he said. "Only… if they don't bother you."

She touched her palm to his cheek, and brought his forehead onto hers. He knew they didn't bother her, and he knew she understood. As much as a free-born could possibly understand, Rorie did. "You're not theirs anymore," she said with authority. "You're mine. Tonight and forever."

She dipped her head down to the implant above his heart, and purposefully touched her lips to the sensitive junction between metal and skin, kissing it as if to claim it. Hers. From there she went on to baptize the rest of him, his body with her body, his soul with her soul, leaving nothing behind for his machine creators to possess or recall. His clothes were off first, then the rest of hers, and he could only marvel at how perfect she really was. Not even a birthmark; not a single scrape or bruise blemished her skin. It was sacred to kiss it, to taste it, and to hear her breathless exclamations when he arrived somewhere new. And she guided him, her hands on his, teaching, confiding her most intimate secrets in a wonderfully romantic, intensely erotic lesson.

It was an expression of trust. She wanted him to know it all. And she whispered his name, again and again as he found his way through the petal-soft folds. He took her agonizingly close, swallowing her moans with each attentive stroke, stopping only when she began to move under him, body damp with perspiration. He covered her face in kisses, entangling himself with her, though when she directed him to the right location and angle, he hesitated.

"Knight, please."

He looked down into her with desire, held back only by concern that he'd cause her pain.

"Quickly," she whispered. "I'll be alright."

But she cried out when he entered her, her head off the pillow and buried in the crook of his neck. He flinched, and she clung to him as he held her tightly, rubbing the back of her head, waiting for her to recover. A long, reverent silence passed between them, before Rorie was the first to move, letting out a shaky breath and shuddering as he very gently pushed back. He loved her slowly, maybe even too carefully at first, sliding his hand between them to find her once again, compensating for any discomfort. Only when he was certain she was as lost as he was did he let himself go, his movement dictated by nothing but instinct and feeling, her hands alternating from forming fists in his hair and clawing at the sheets. And the blessed sound of her gasping his name echoed in his ears as he grunted into her neck, caressed the fullness of her breasts, and pinned her palms to the mattress with his own.

She took him with her when she climaxed, every muscle squeezing at him at once, and he heard his own voice yell out, nearly biting into her shoulder. He thought the blinding, pounding pleasure would last forever, until at last he returned to his senses, finding Rorie equally spent underneath him. She was stunning to look at, hair around her face wet with sweat, cheeks flushed, lips crimson red. And her eyes were alight, if not a little tired, taking him in as her breathing gradually returned to normal.

"Knight…"

She began to cry, suddenly and intensely, her tears running down over her temples. "I love you so much."

"Shh. I know."

"No, you can't know. I don't even know how much."

He felt his eyes burn. "Don't, Rorie," he chided. "You'll get me started, and you've already seen me cry too many times."

She half-laughed, half-sobbed, and pulled him down for a teary kiss. "But I've never told a soul."

Knight knew it was the truth, which just made him weepier, and his vision was blurry as he reached over to wrap them in the blanket that they'd frantically discarded earlier. She snuggled up on his chest, as was becoming her wont, and they settled into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, Knight became aware of the sound of the rain, which was still pouring down hard. "I'm so happy."

"So am I."

He moved his fingers through her tangled hair for awhile, enjoying the quiet intimacy. The fire was almost dead, so he pulled another coverlet around them, using the cocooning method he'd employed the morning before. "You're alright?" he asked the top of her head. "Will you be able to sleep?"

He waited on her answer, which never came, her breathing slow and steady. Knight smiled to himself, and rested his hand on her hip, quietly daring anything to try to take her now. Let the sky fall in buckets of heaven itself, he thought. They'd gather every drop and pour it back into paradise. If not, and the surface flooded, then he'd build a boat, and they'd make the sea their home. Either way suited him fine. It wasn't like it had never been done before, he rationalized. Miracles ran in her family. She'd fallen in love with him, hadn't she?

Well, there it is, then. Miracle number one…

I awake to the sound of whispers in the rain. I see nothing but blackness, and feel nothing but warmth. Bare skin on bare skin- our legs are entwined, my arm folded on his chest, one of his hands lost somewhere in my long, tangled hair. It's a new experience, to wake up like this, but it's comfortable, a welcome reminder of what we are to each other now. Lovers.

We never looked back, did we, Knight?

I'm glad we didn't. I need him. I need this. Grounding love. Pure reality. A rope to tie me to this world as I venture into another, one that floats neither here nor there, living in starlight. And raindrops. And secrets.

The whispers get louder, as if they know that I'm listening, pleased to have my attention again. Frustrated, though still a little intrigued, I sit up, mindful not to wake Knight, shivering in the cool, damp air. And they call me, beckon me like Sirens to the sailors, and so I obey, taking some of the covers to wrap around my body as I rise, and gravitate back to the window.

I'm a little sore, I realize as I walk, though the warm ache is somehow pleasant, keeping him with me even as I look out into the unforgiving night. I run my hand through hair, caressing over my bare shoulder as he would do, brushing my breast as he would do. My body feels different. The entire world feels different. I wish I'd stayed in bed.

The thunder comes from above and within, and the lightning is violaceous, sparkling on the water. Streams of purple code teem down with each burst of light, with tormented chattering, with lines of erroneous symbols dripping from the leaves. They scream.

"Enough."

She says it with such ascendancy, the voices are silenced at once, and blazing white eyes burn mine from a transparent image in the glass. Only they're my eyes. A strange, unequal reflection stares back at me, vaguely familiar and yet foreign. Blood red lips, rolling waves of raven hair, dainty, chiseled features.

What do you want from me, Synergy?

Her iridescent gaze falls lower, the expression pained, sorrowful. And that's when I notice them, two metal plugs above my breasts, cold and rough under my fingertips.

"Save me."

Rorie called out, head ripping form the pillow, yanking him from sleep with her. Knight heard her gasp in the dark, and he reached to her with one hand as he turned on the lamp with the other. "Rorie?"

She had one hand on her chest, the other on the back of her head, clawing at the skin as if afraid there was something there. He put his arm around her, though she continued to check herself, eventually pressing her palm to her forehead.

"It's okay. It was just a dream."

She sighed and shook her head, scowling as if deep in thought. Fingers to her lips, she sat in silence for a few moments, before throwing her legs over the edge of the mattress.

"It has nothing to do with computers. Nothing to do with the Matrix," she said, finding her dressing gown. "And it has nothing to do with Synergy. Dad was right about her. She has no clue what's going on."

Rorie rushed over to her desk and began hooking up cables to monitors, tossing bouquets of flowers onto the bed to clear her workspace. As her four hard drives booted up she began to pace. "S, Y, N, L, T, N, S, N, Q, Y..."

Knight tried to sound out the word but she shook her head at him. "Those are the old universal amino acid designations. Serine, Tyrosine, Asparagine, Lysine… S, Y, N, L… they were delivered in clusters of ten, one hundred and fifty-six total, which would be encoded by four hundred and sixty eight nucleotide base pairs, excluding introns and UTR's and other junk. They fed me the sequence of a protein."

The screen flickered to life and she loaded her enzyme modeling software, and then her fingers typed frantically on the keyboard. She hit enter and frowned. "What the hell is it?"

He leaned over her shoulder and looked at a globular structure displayed on the screen, showing the shape of the amino acid sequence she'd just specified. Rorie continued to shake her head at it as she manipulated the 3D representation, turning it this way and that, zooming in and out. She then commanded the program to "polymerize, icosahedron, zoom out."

The geometric form that appeared was a perfect twenty-one sided polyhedron, made of triangular faces. Rorie leaned back in her chair and put a hand to her forehead. "Oh, no." Again, she manipulated the strikingly angular structure, which was a composite of sixty-three of the monomers, linked in triplets. "Elegant, efficient, mathematically and architecturally brilliant," she commented gravely. "I've seen structures like this before. Many times. But from only one type of organism."

"What?"

Rorie met his eyes, and the word that she whispered sent a shiver down his spine. "Virus."

a/n: The amino acid sequence given in the last chapter was, in fact, the coat protein of the Tobacco Mosaic Virus, the first discovered plant virus - for those of you who are as geeky as I am and would be interested. That being said, I took some artistic licence with the shape. Tobacco Mosaic is a spiral-shaped virion, not an icosahedron. But this is fantasy, so I got creative! I hope you enjoyed- Syd