A/N
Hello, Readers! And here you go --- the beginning of a series of chapters that I like to call the "TRINNEO" chapters!
I recommend that you skim Chapter 2 again (it's short), becuase I bring back alot of the ideas from Ch.2 into these next 3 chapters (yes, you heard me right - THREE). They will be posted one at a time, just so it isn't too much at once!
Enjoy them! - Kristen
Chapter 6
Her vision still fuzzy, Trinity leaves Tank in the Core and makes her way down the ladder which leads to the lower deck, thinking about only one thing. Sleep. There is a sharp pain in her neck from the awkward position she'd assumed in that chair, and the stress of her day is pounding in her temples and sinuses with every heartbeat. Gritting her teeth and holding her breath is not helping. Perhaps she'd pour herself a hard drink to ease the pain. Better a little headache tomorrow morning than a throbbing migraine tonight.
While simultaneously faulting herself for drinking alone (and often), Trinity seriously considers finishing off the bottle of booze that she'd started last week. But then she's stricken a sobering thought. If Ghost were here, and if he still cared, he wouldn't approve. Then again, if he were here, she wouldn't have to drink alone, and he'd probably fix her a much better drink than the awful Zionist version of moonshine that Dozer made.
Trinity smiles sadly, remembering how Ghost would spend hours at the computer, trying his damndest to program a perfect simulation of his deadly green-apple martini, or, as she had coined it, "the Ghos'tini". Like she had with Neo's birthday cake, he'd written about twenty different mixtures, and then they sneaked into the Core at night, jacked in, and sipped each one, trying to compare each taste to the distant memory they had of the original. Of course, they were both drunk before long, and after several hilarious sparring matches in which they discovered that a drunk mind is not necessarily a free mind (the bruises from failed attempts to fly were worse than the hangover), Ghost carefully walked her back to her cabin and tucked her into bed.
In retrospect, Trinity is surprised they were never caught. She has hazy memories of stumbling around the Core, singing discordant bars of old Irish drinking songs. She'd never get very far. Ghost would practically leap on top of her, covering her mouth with the palm of his hand. She'd bite at his fingers and pull his hair, stifling laughter.
Thank God Morpheus never found out. No, nevermind Morpheus. Thank God Niobe never found out. She would have fed Trinity to the closest hive of sentinels she could find… or subjected her to some other form of exotic punishment. Niobe had a knack for making Trinity's life a living hell (particularly when Morpheus wasn't around to save her). Trinity recalls a much younger version of herself scrubbing the controls in the cockpit with a toothbrush (her toothbrush). That was the time Trinity rewired the ship's navigation system without telling her. If course, it was an improvement, but now, Trinity realizes that this is not the point. Today, if anyone so much as touched the Neb behind her back, she'd do alot worse.
And what would Niobe think now… now that Trinity was missing duty shifts, leaving her gloves in a Target's apartment, baking cakes, and drinking herself to sleep? Would Niobe find a kind of self-satisfaction in her misery? If Trinity could humble herself enough to ask Niobe's advice, what would she say? "What difference would it make, you and Morpheus will do what you want, anyway." Trinity can hear Niobe's voice in her mind.
Yes, this was what Trinity had been thinking about. This is what had led to her falling asleep in the Core. Now she remembers it all. For some reason, the thought of Niobe made her tired, and the thought of Ghost made her feel sick with a kind of angry guilt. So much for the drink.
Having made several paces down the dark hallway towards her room, Trinity suddenly freezes, and her heart skips a beat. Her vision focuses and her pain dulls as every nerve in her body becomes hyperaware. Neo's door is open, and the light is on.
Oh, No. He's awake.
She feels a wave of anxiety and panic, a response that is more due to shock than any sincere form of fear. Foolishly, Trinity is surprised that Neo would be awake, alive, on this ship, in his room. She almost feels as if he should be somewhere else. Perhaps she'd simply been in denial that eventually, she'd have to face him. Indeed, the mess of thoughts in her mind had distracted her from the fact that Neo is no longer unconscious, and that tomorrow, he'll be training with Tank, eating with the crew, and learning the ropes on the ship.
Even when she saw him in the Core this morning, he didn't seem Real to her. Perhaps, again, it was the surprise of seeing him awake so soon. She hadn't prepared herself for the encounter, and all she could do was mechanically follow Morpheus' instructions, finally finding a slight relief once he was jacked into the Construct.
Trinity stood by his chair and watched his eyes flicker, as if dreaming. There was a bothered frown wrinkled across his forehead, and, without noticing what she was doing, Trinity's hand rested on his chest. It was then that she made her first startling discovery. This man was absolutely gorgeous. His features were simply perfect. His skin was so white, the curves of his brow and jaw so strong and masculine, yet elegant, that Trinity could not look away from him. No, she decided, his RSI did not do him justice at all. And it was this thought that led her to the second, less welcome epiphany of the morning. He was a complete stranger. The digital projection to which she'd become accustomed, Trinity realized, did not really exist. It had been an illusion, and this person, this beautiful stranger was as foreign to her as she was to him. It was an unexpectedly painful revelation, one that Trinity realizes she'd pushed to the back of her mind when Neo passed out, and, once the thought began to creep back into her thoughts, she'd been quick to take it out on Morpheus. Perhaps Cypher was right. She'd been upset with him for the wrong reasons. Trinity wishes she could go back in time, leave Morpheus alone, slap Cypher twice, and call the whole thing even.
And so she'd avoided the idea of Neo for the rest of the day, instead preferring the safe distraction of resenting Morpheus, hating Cypher, and brooding about Niobe and Ghost. It is not until this moment, when Trinity stares at the rectangle of light pouring into the dark corridor that the reality of Neo's presence on the ship is fully guaged. He is her colleague, and she is petrified by the prospect of talking to him.
She eyes her own room, which is only a few feet beyond his, and weighs the odds of slipping by unnoticed. Maybe she'd just head back up to the Core. Trinity remembers that she hadn't told Tank to clean off those monitors, and while he did that, she could scrub the iron grating all night. It probably needed a good wash after this morning, anyway.
You're really losing it, Trinity. Tank would have you committed to Med Bay (with good reason)… Just go to bed…
Feeling the pounding return to her temples, Trinity walks as gracefully as she can, not making the faintest sound as she approaches Neo's open door. She stops at the edge of the doorframe and plasters her body against the wall.
Just stride by… very quickly, and silently.
A classic guerrilla tactic. It had served her well when avoiding Agents in the Matrix. Certainly, it would work here. Trinity holds her breath.
Go.
In an instant, she's made a swift, elegant dash past his room. But in the time it takes her to get to the other side, poor Trinity has made an utterly embarrassing discovery.
He not even in there! You idiot.
She can't help but smile in spite of herself. She gingerly steps back in front of the doorframe and looks around the room. Completely empty. She rolls her eyes and sighs.
Dodged a bullet there, soldier.
After checking the hallway to make sure nobody had seen what she'd just done, the First Officer of the Nebuchadnezzar promptly turns her attention back to Neo's cabin. And as her eyes move over the few, modest objects in the tiny space, she is overcome with an acute sensation of nostalgia. This used to be her room. When she first joined the ship. And, although her present cabin is much bigger, and much warmer, she'd always felt more at home here.
Of course, the room looks different now. But not necessarily because her things are gone, or because any of the furniture in the room has changed. No, Trinity decides, it's the mess that makes it look so different.She shakes her head as she scrutinizes the unmade bed and balled-up sweater on the floor.
Oh, Neo.
Her lips curl slightly. She remembers how impossibly messy his little, dingy apartment had been. The first time she'd walked into it, her gut impulse was to hold her breath. It was an uphill battle to step over everything and get to his computer, and it was even more difficult for her to sift through the wrappers and paper on his desk for information of interest. She had barely been at the computer for ten minutes before her obsessive-compulsive nature won over and she got up to tidy some of the mess.
So, purely out of habit, Trinity bends over and picks up Neo's sweater. It's inside-out. She bites her lower lip and scowls.
Next thing you know, I'll be bringing you room-service.
She pushes both her arms into the sleeves and inverts the garment. She is about to fold it against her chest when her breath catches in her throat. The scent of the sweater is familiar to her.
The same as in the Matrix.
For a few moments, she gently holds the loosely- knitted fabric against her, thinking. Wondering about him. She wonders what he's actually like... this man she spent months learning so much about, but cannot bring herself to actually speak to. She wonders what makes him laugh. The entire time she'd watched him in the Matrix… he never laughed. Not that he doesn't have a sense of humour, mind you:
I still can't believe he left me milk and cookies. Who does that?
Trinity smiles as she finally finishes folding the sweater. Careful hands rest it on the desk.
And after I left my gloves, he didn't even bother to change the locks. Instead, he went out and got a 'Welcome' mat. Yes, ha, ha, Neo. Very funny.
Absent-mindedly, she turns to the bed. Trinity throws aside the covers and grabs at the sheets. In one swift, graceful motion, she whips them over the bed, and tucks the edges under the mattress.
Were you flirting with me? With your stalker? That's so twisted, Neo. That's what you are, a twisted slob…
The pillow is tossed into place. Trinity then bends for the covers. She finds two corners in the tangled mess at her feet and, taking one in each hand, she stretches out her arms, drawing the blanket out in front of her.
I wonder if he suspects it was me. 'The' Trinity. Kansas City D-BASE Trinity… Wrote you a cake. Watered your plants. Which you subsequently killed. Very disappointing, Neo.
She tucks the edge of the blanket under her chin, and folds the sides in towards her chest. After doubling the fabric over several times, a perfectly-folded rectangle of knitted cloth hangs from her hands. She is about to place it on the bed when her attention suddenly returns to what she's doing.
Oh my God.
These had been her blankets. When she first joined the ship.Trinity recognizes her own stitching around some of the mended holes. Her fingers tenderly dance over the patches as she sits down on the freshly-made bed. She is reminded of the first time she'd ever opened her eyes. She was wrapped in these blankets, curled up on this cot. Terrified. Practically blind. The first thing she remembers ever feeling was Niobe's rough fingertips caressing her cheek. She'd felt so alone. So lost. And even then, she had Ghost to get her through. Whom did Neo have?
Morpheus?
The thought puts a sour expression on Trinity's face. The first time she'd met him, she'd found Morpheus… creepy. Of course, she'd been unplugged at a time when afros were (apparently) in style and Morpheus still had hair (it took Trinity and Niobe's combined efforts to convince him to do away with the frightful thing). In spite of the long-overdue fashion update, Trinity knew full-well how intimidating Morpheus could be. No, she couldn't imagine that Neo found much comfort in his company at all.
You're probably lonely as hell.
Trinity feels guilty. She hadn't even visited him once in the med bay. Not once in two weeks.
Cypher is right. I am a hypocrite.
Rising to her feet, Trinity runs her fingers through her hair, and then puts her hands on her hips, looking around the empty room. She realizes that if Neo had been in his room tonight, she would have avoided him again. She would have just let him sit alone. And now, instead of looking for him to see if he's alright, she is making his bed. Stalking him. Just like she had in the Matrix.
"God, I'm creepier than Morpheus." She shakes her head, amazed by how ludicrous the situation is.
Poor Neo is stuck in this ship with a bunch of psychopaths. The machines want to kill him, The Captain thinks he's God, and the First Officer, who is obsessed with cleaning his cabin, is petrified of human conversation. I wouldn't be surprised if he's hanged himself from a support beam.
Trinity thinks seriously for a moment, and decides that Neo is probably in the mess-hall. As she walks out of the room and heads down the corridor, she tries not to feel nervous.
What am I supposed to say to him? What did Niobe say to me?
She struggles to remember.
Nothing. The minute I woke up, I asked to see Ghost.
Despite all of Niobe's efforts to soothe her, Trinity had refused to calm down until she saw her friend. So Niobe ran off to get Ghost, and for hours Trinity just cried in his arms. She can't remember the last time she'd cried like that. Not for awhile. Not since he left.
Arriving at the door to the mess hall, Trinity sees the lights are on, and Neo is sitting at the table, his back to her.
For a moment she just watches him. He hasn't heard her come in. She resists the urge to turn around and run back to her cabin.