a/n: Some of you may have noticed that I rated this story M, for sexual themes. This is because this chapter in particular is rather graphic, so please be warned, or intrigued, depending on your fancies.

There is a little gift to the Trinophiles in this chapter - half of which is written from Trinity's point of view, which is not the norm for this fiction, so I'll call it an experiment- I hope you like it.

For those of you who read my other fiction,The UC, you'll notice a well-known character makes an appearance here. This story is meant to take place before the Undiscovered Country, so Knight and Rorie are good friends, nothing more (feel free to enjoy the dollop of irony I dish out regarding this aspect of their relationship).

Thank you for all the reviews and enjoy,
-Syd

Chapter 15
Zion, circa 2219

"Well? Did you make it?" I asked across the dinner table, sitting on the very edge of my chair.

"Of course we made it!" Dad answered. "You think your mom would have married me if I had pulled her to her digital death?"

"Well, we just made it," my mother clarified. "Your father was literally wobbling on the edge of the roof when we landed. I had to yank him back."

"I did it on purpose so she'd pull me against her. And it worked," Dad said through a smug grin. Mom threw her napkin at him.

"Eat your supper," she said to me. "You've barely touched it."

"What happened when you got back to the ship?"

"That's dessert talk, and you won't get any if you don't eat," she replied, talking to me as if I were seven again, instead of seventeen. "Neo, you too."

"So now you know why I play that Backstreet Boys' song on our anniversary," Dad said, ignoring Mom just as I had. "I had them play it at our wedding reception, too. It was our first dance as husband and wife."

My mother groaned as if the memory gave her a headache. "You're lucky I didn't divorce you then and there."

"And what? Run back to Paulo?"

I laughed, and Mom silenced me with a look that could have cut glass. She made me endure the stare until I swallowed a large forkful of mushroom salad, and I was only rescued from further torture by a knock at the door.

"I'll get it. You two children finish eating," she said, getting up.

The minute she was out of earshot, Dad continued his story with all the excitement of a smitten schoolboy ranting about his first girlfriend. "So, Tank pulls us out. And when I open my eyes in the core, the whole crew is standing around, applauding."

"Because you made the jump?"

"Apparently. But, I like to think it was more because I got Trin to laugh a little. She was clapping, too actually. Gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek in front of everyone."

"That's incredible. I mean… it's so romantic." My eyes fell to my plate. I felt a little strange talking to my father so frankly about this, but I seldom held back what I was thinking from him, so I continued hesitantly. "I can't help but hope I fall in love like that one day," I admitted. "That I find someone as special to me as Mom is to you."

When I finally looked back up, Dad wasn't smiling anymore. "He'd better be," he said seriously. "I won't have it any other way."

There was some chuckling at the door, and when Mom returned to the dining room, it was with her tactical officer's arm around her shoulders. She'd unplugged Knight nine years ago when he was only twelve, and he'd practically lived at our house since then. Though these days, it seemed as though he strategically timed his visits with dinnertime (Mom often said the poor guy needed a recipe for boiling water).

"Hey Neo," he greeted my father, holding out his hand for their usual shake. "Trin tells me you and your obstinate daughter won't eat the meal that she slaved away at for hours. Not cool. What could possibly keep you from enjoying this woman's magnificent cooking? God, just the aroma of it makes my mouth water."

My mother rolled her eyes. "That'll do, Urchin. You can help yourself."

I grinned at the boy I considered my best friend as he returned from the kitchen with a plate and fork. "Mom and Dad are telling me about their first date," I said. "I was just commenting about how romantic it was."

Knight raised his eyebrows. "On second thought, maybe I'll take mine to go, Trin."

I scoffed. "That figures."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you wouldn't know romantic if it bit you in the ass."

" Aurora," my father corrected.

"Sorry. But you get my point. Knight's last girlfriend lasted… what was it? Three hours?"

Knight brushed back golden curls from his forehead and poured himself some wine. "It was about five hours. And the relationship was doomed before it started. She just had one fault that I couldn't overlook."

"Which was?" My mother asked.

"Her best friend was too good looking."

My Dad laughed while Mom and I frowned daggers at them both. "As I said, you're romantically brain dead," I accused. "I feel sorry for the girl who ends up with you."

Knight just shrugged back at me, as if he, too, pitied his future mate, but nothing could be done to rescue the poor woman, so we might as well all enjoy our supper.

"So obviously you didn't tell Dad how you felt that night," I ventured, addressing my mother. "Why not?"

"Well, the crew was all over him for finally passing the jump test," she answered. "And by the time they were done celebrating with your poor father, he was nearly dead from alcohol poisoning."

Knight choked on his food, suddenly interested. "No way!"

"I wasn't that drunk," Dad said.

"Oh, yes… yes you were. After three glasses, no less!" she laughed back. "You were singing that Backstreet Boys' song to bed. It's a miracle I was able to scrape you off the mattress the next morning. Could the Oracle tell you were hung-over?"

Knight nearly fell off his chair. "Neo was singing Backstreet Boys? And he went to the Oracle's place hung over? Wow, what they don't tell you in the history books, eh?"

"No, I wasn't," he answered. "Trinity's making it up."

My mother peered at him from across the table, and her eyes sparkled. "You don't remember anything from that night, do you?" she said with an enigmatic curl of her lip. "You really have no idea?"

"What?" he asked, his eyes now locked in her secretive gaze. "What aren't you telling me?"

All of us fell silent, and Mom just kept smiling at him. "Never mind," she eventually said softly. "I'll tell you later. Once we put the kids to bed."

Knight and I dropped our utensils and protested vehemently. "Put her to bed!" Knight insisted. "I'm over twenty-one!"

"Yes, but you act under twelve." Mom stated what we all knew was the truth and then looked at my father. "Besides, this is something that stays between us."

I lean on the doorjamb of my daughter's bedroom, as I have so many times in the past, watching her sleep. She sleeps like child still, on her side, cuddled up in a ball around her pillow. And yet, somehow, she is not like a child. The sharp angles of her face, so like her father's, are those of a young lady, not a girl, and the curve of her hips under the covers tell me that she is past the ambiguous stage between adolescence and adulthood. I wonder if Neo has noticed it yet, these subtle changes in her. Or if he, like me, has managed to pretend that she is still our little girl, still the tiny, bright-eyed creature we fell in love with from the instant we first laid eyes on her.

She really is beautiful, I think with a half proud, half sorrowful smile. She really has turned into a striking young woman.

His arms slide around my waist, his cheek next to my ear. "Stargazing?" Neo asks, and I feel him grin. "Make a wish."

"I wish... I wish I could turn back time. To when she was a baby," I whisper.

"No you don't. Remember she didn't give us a moment's rest? The crying, the feedings in the middle of the night…" His lips brush my neck. "I thought I'd never make love to you again."

I laugh softly. "Oh, you found the time."

"Mmm-hum." His breath on my skin tells me he'd like to find the time right now, but I linger by the door, still not taking my eyes from our daughter.

"Isn't it strange she's asking all these questions all of a sudden?" I ask."She seems so interested in how we ended up together."

"Well, she's getting older. A little curious, I guess."

So he has noticed. I sigh.

"You know what she said to me when you went to let Knight in?" Neo says, turning me to face him, forcing me to look away from her (he rubs my shoulders as if to ease the separation). "She said that she hopes that she falls in love with someone as special to her as you are to me."

"Rorie said that?" I raise my eyebrows, surprised, and a little affected that she'd said this to Neo and not to me. "But… it's too soon."

"Don't worry. It will take her a lifetime to find someone that special. If the guy exists, and manages to convince me that he's good enough."

"Well, there goes all hope of having grandchildren." And I smile, sliding my hands up over his chest, fingers finding the top buttons of his shirt. I pluck at them until my mouth can reach bare skin.

There is something about Neo's paternal side that never fails to strike a cord in me. He's a wonderful father, and I've told him so many times, often without words, but just like this, my body pressed to his, my lips paying homage.

"Come to bed," he says, hands moving down to my hips, holding me firmly. Grounding me. "I've been wanting you all day."

"Mmm. I can tell." I feel a familiar rush tingle through my body as I carefully close Rorie's door behind me. The recent walk down memory lane that our daughter has forced upon us has awakened something in me as well. It has been a long time since we've reminisced about this part of our romantic history. We buried it a long time ago, the joys with the sorrows, and there was much more sorrow than joy, such that I'd forgotten that there were times when we laughed, when we were truly happy together. I felt guilty for being so happy at the time, and I still do now when I look back on it. When I recall how much fun I had with him that night, the night before five of my best friends were killed.

My fingers work quickly to remove Neo's shirt, my lips pressed hard to his, not giving him a moment to catch up. We are still in the living room, but I don't care. I remember this. This desperation, this need. It had been the only thing that could comfort me, that could ease the ache that their deaths left in my heart. And suddenly I'm back there, in that tiny apartment on 31 that we shared, struggling with the same drowning sensation that had almost constantly plagued me during the war. It's partly for Switch and the others, and partly for Rorie, who is growing up too fast, slipping through my fingers.

Blindly, Neo manages to maneuver me into the bedroom, shutting the door behind us a little too loudly, and we both wince, hoping we didn't wake Rorie. But that concern is gone in an instant when he pins me against the metal, hips grinding against me at just the right angle, with just the right amount of force. It's almost rough, but not quite, only strong and determined.

"Trin," he murmurs, gathering the fabric of my dress up around my thighs. "I've missed you…"

And now I'm certain that he is back on level 31, too. He has followed me back there for a brief tryst between two lovers who no longer exist, who haven't for a long time, not outside the vaults of our memories. I unlock his, and he unlocks mine, and we let these star-crossed spirits out to play, knowing that it's been too long for them. They're hungry and frantic, clumsy and impulsive. Sometimes, even selfish and mindless in their lovemaking. But not tonight; somehow we manage to control them, guide them, whisper twenty years' worth of erotic secrets into their ears. Touch him here, Trinity. Slowly, firmly, just like this. You have all night…

But my younger self is an impatient pupil, and so is his. Still wearing most of our clothing, I find my legs wrapped around his waist as he lifts my weight off the door and onto his body. He does it effortlessly and gracefully, the muscles of his arms, chest and shoulders constricting against mine as I move in tiny, rhythmic motions.

"I'm yours," I manage, eyes shut tight, arms locked around his neck. I tremble with every nearly imperceptible thrust, driving myself precariously close, and wanting him to know it. "Neo, please. Take me," I breathe, this time more insistent. It's not a request for release, but rather an instruction for him to accept responsibility for what happens next, and though it is something I ask for very rarely, Neo understands me. The power exchange is fluid and immediate as he grips my hips and holds me still. I can't move, though I'm still trying, and I almost regret giving him the upper hand as I sigh my frustration.

"I need you," I plead. "And I don't need anything."

"I know," he whispers, and this is the husband speaking now, tempering the wild lover of two decades past. "There's time."

But we make love as if there weren't a moment beyond the morning. I cling to him, wrap myself around him as if the entire world were burning down, as if we were literally dying in each other's arms. His moans, like prayers, are panted into my ear as he lifts my head from the pillow, and by the end our limbs are burning from keeping me up for so long, my back only barely brushing the sheets. His skin is wet and salty on my tongue and lips, and I feel a cool bead run down from my temple to my jaw just as my strained muscles seize, sending me crashing, bucking against him. I fist his hair, and call his name, and when he shudders and squeezes back it is so tight I think he'll break me.

We collapse together, gasping with each intake of breath, and I whimper on the exhale, demolished with a mixture of subsiding pleasure and aching pain from the overexertion. I find his eyes, and I press my lips them as I continue to make tiny noises, little involuntary exclamations that I normally suppress, but I cannot find the strength at the moment. It is a long time before I can even speak, before we reestablish normalcy in tender kisses and gentle caresses under the covers. I dangle between awake and sleeping as he runs his fingers through my hair, my ear over his heartbeat, now slow and steady.

"Trin?" he whispers, very, very softly. "Darling?"

I answer with a hum.

"You want to know what I was thinking about as I made that jump?" he asks. "After you told me to visualize myself landing on the other side?"

"You were thinking of kissing me," I reply.

There is silence for a few beats, and I prop myself up on my elbow to see him frown in mild confusion. "How did you know that? I don't remember ever telling you."

I have to smile. He really doesn't remember. "Lucky guess, I suppose."

"No it wasn't."

I lean in to brush our lips together. "Come on, let's get some sleep."

"Trin!" I giggle mischievously as he pretends to be exasperated. "What's with all these secrets all of a sudden? First tonight at dinner, and now this…"

"You speak as if the two are completely unrelated."

He half grimaces. "I didn't tell you… that night? I told you that I was thinking of kissing you? No, I didn't."

"Oh, you told me a lot of things."

"I don't believe you."

"Alright. Then we should get some sleep."

"No." He stops me from turning over and pins me down with deep brown eyes. "Tell me."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Well," I say slowly, not quite sure where to begin. "Tell me, what is the last thing that you remember?"

He considered it for a few seconds. "I remember Morpheus called it quits after the first toast, and ordered the rest of us to do the same. Then for some reason, you left me alone with them."

"I had a shift in the core," I say evenly. Typical.

"Oh. Well, the next thing I knew, you were back, and yelling at Switch. God only knows why."

"Do you realize that when I returned, you were wearing nothing but your boxers?"

"Now that you mention it, I remember being cold."

I chuckle, and run my hand through my tousled hair. "Oh, Neo, Neo. What would you have done without me?"