a/n: Many thanks to those who review and enjoy this fiction.

This chapter is dedicated to Zinck, who did me the great service of counting how many seconds poor Neo was dead for at the conclusion of M1. From now on, "89" will be known as "Zinck's Number" ... like Avagadro's number... but smaller (if you like, we can write it as 8.9 X 10 pwr1 ).

Chapter 16 (part 2 of 2)

"I'll be The One… oh, I'll be The One… yeah, baby, baby, please…"

"Shh!" I hiss onto his back as Neo wanders ahead of me unsteadily and reluctantly, taking each step down the dark, narrow corridor as if it requires great effort and concentration. His ghastly singing echoes off the metal, his voice cracking, and raised several octaves to imitate the song. "You'll wake up Morpheus," I warn.

"Oh… we wouldn't want to get his hopes up, is that it? I'll be the One… Yes, Morpheus! Your brainwashing worked! I'll be the One!"

I reach up to cover his mouth. "Shut it!"

"No…" Neo spins around and fights me off, but as he catches my wrists, he stumbles back and nearly trips. "Whoa . Ship's wobbly tonight. Tank's not doing a very good job of driving, is he?"

I grab onto his arm to keep him up. "I think you're not doing a very good job of walking. But we'll get there… come on…"

"No, no… wait. I need to tell you something. Something about that song. But it has to stay between us."

"Jesus," I curse under my breath, sure that half the crew is listening. "You'd better whisper it to me, then."

Neo nods gravely. "The agents can hear us, eh?"

"God, I hope not."

"Me, too." He pulls me over to him and lowers his voice. "But I trust you, Trin. I didn't mean what I said before, about the pills. I didn't mean it, okay? I trust you… I really, really do."

"I know you do, Neo."

He leans his forehead down on mine. "And I'm sorry I blew you up."

"It's okay. I've been through worse."

"You're so good to me, Trin…" He cradles my jaw. "You're really good to me. Not like the rest of them. That's why I'm going to tell you and not anyone else. Especially not Switch. You know she called me a pussy?"

"Yeah, well." I mirror his gesture and rub my thumb over his cheek. "I think she more than apologized for that, Neo."

"And… you know, Mouse took my clothes."

"I know. I know." I humor him as he pouts. "Now what is it you want to tell me?"

"It's that song," he says, frowning. "The one that goes I'll be The One, I'll be The One... it's just one more thing, you know? One more thing they want me to do. And they put it in a goddamned pop song! They stuck it in my head!"

He separates from me to lean back onto the wall, and something in his face pulls at my heart as he sinks down to the ground. I crouch down in front of him and he sighs, looking at me with big brown eyes as sullen and lost as I've ever seen.

"I just… I don't want to be The One," he whispers. "I'm not strong like you, Trin. I'm just not. I wish I were. But I'm just… just me."

"Oh, Neo." I take his hands in mine and entwine our fingers, rubbing circles around his first knuckle because I don't know what else I can do. The entire world is resting on his shoulders, and it isn't fair. He never asked for this. And if I could lift the responsibility from him and take it on myself, I would, but I can't. As much as I try to save him from it, I can't stop loving him.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," I say. "I promise."

"I'm so scared, Trin."

"Come here." I put my arm around him, and he rests his head on my shoulder, under my hand. "It'll be okay," I murmur into his ear. "We'll figure this out together. You and me."

"Trinity." He pushes himself upright, and takes my face in his hands. "Do you want me to be The One?" he asks, eyes locking with mine.

My mouth opens, but I can't form the words, so I drift away and nudge him up. "Come on, let's get to bed. You need to sleep this off."

"No. No, you need to tell me," he argues, refusing to move and pulling me back, close to him. "I need to know if you want me to. It's important."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"Why?"

"Because I'd do it for you," he answers. "Only for you. Anything. For you."

I sigh, and whisper back, "I don't think it works that way."

"It could. That's what I thought up on the rooftop. I thought it could work like that. It must have been you. I can fly for you… you want me to fly, too? I'd do it…"

I shake my head, and try to coax him off the floor. He isn't making any sense, and he's bound to catch pneumonia is he spends the night in the hallway. With all of my strength, I manage to get him onto his feet. Neo walks with me in silence the rest of the way, and I glance over at him once or twice; he seems oddly pensive, thoughtful.

"It means something," he says as we arrive in his room. "It has to…"

I don't respond as I help Neo to collapse into the bed, on top of a balled-up comforter and some discarded clothing. I think he might already be asleep as I pull off his boots, until he grunts and reaches under him to pull out an object that was apparently giving him some discomfort. A fork. I grimace, not wanting to think about how cutlery got between his sheets.

"Shit, this place is a mess," he complains, as if he'd only just realized the fact, clumsily tossing the utensil on his nightstand.

"Yeah, don't get be started," I mutter, sitting next to him and untangling the covers as best I can.

"But you should… you should get started. Place is a mess. You need to clean it."

My hands stop moving and I scowl. "Excuse me?"

"Like you used to… you never clean for me anymore. It was better in here when you cleaned for me… I liked it."

"You're lucky you're so drunk," I say evenly, pushing him down and covering him in blankets. "Goodnight, Neo."

"No, wait. You have to clean up. So I wake up tomorrow and know it was all real… our date… and when you rescued me from Switch in the mess hall… I don't want to forget… I need something to remember you by."

I like his use of the terms date and rescued. "You mean, besides all the bruises and the hangover?"

He chuckles. "Yeah. Besides all that. Christ, my ass hurts. Your car Picasso kicked my ass."

I smile in spite of myself. There is something compelling about Neo's slurred request as he lies in a bed of forks, beaten and battered from our… good God, our date, half dead drunk from his crewmates' version of tough love. And I still can't completely rid myself of the angst in his eyes back in that corridor. So big and brown and…

"Goddamn it," I mutter, hardly believing what I'm about to do.

I rise from the bed to stand akimbo in the center of the mess, trying my best to rationalize my unholy desire to play maid for him. It isn't a kink, I tell myself. It's an obsessive-compulsion. It's charming and hygienic.

Then Neo mumbles something about separating his delicates from the colors when I do the laundry, and I very nearly walk out.

"I'm only doing this if you don't watch me," I say, catching the look he gives me as I bend over to pick up his sweaters. "Roll over and go to sleep."

He reluctantly does so, and I think I catch him grumble something about my being a tease. The voyeur. I suppress a giggle at the thought and go about my work, quietly sorting the laundry, folding up his clothes and meticulously organizing his desk. I'm midway through alphabetizing his memory cards when I notice that he is looking at me again, staring at me with what seems to be great interest, or fascination. "It must mean something," he repeats that same sentence from before. I fold my arms, wondering what he could be getting at. "That I didn't fall," he says once he has my attention. "You kept me up. It had to have been you."

"I'm going now, Neo. Try and rest," I say quietly, shutting off the light at his bedside. "I'll wake you for breakfast."

"Stay." He catches my arm, and tugs me down to the bed. I don't fight him off, but tell him again to get some sleep, running my hand over his head soothingly. His short hair prickles at my fingertips, and I enjoy the sensation. I can't help myself the indulgence of comforting him, of touching him, and after a few moments of attentive stroking, Neo closes his eyes and whispers, "Now I know it was you."

"Shh."

"No, it was," comes the deep, groggy murmur. "I jumped, and it was all you. I thought of you, Trin. I thought of kissing you, and I didn't fall. I want you to know that."

My heart stops beating. "Neo-"

"Don't leave. Let it last for a few more minutes. Let it last."

"I won't leave," I say, my voice faint in the cold, hallow room. I resume my gentle caresses, listening to his breathing become slower, heavier. Minutes pass, and then, in a sigh into the dark, uttered somewhere between dreaming and consciousness, Neo tells me he loves me.

And I don't leave him for a long time after that. Not until I hear Cypher descend from the core at oh-three hundred, his footsteps wrenching me from whatever shocked, elated, dreamy anticipation I'd fallen into. Rationality tells me to stop pining by Neo's bedside and wait until tomorrow. He'll still love you tomorrow, Trinity. And I know he loves me. I think I knew it before he said it.

I kiss his forehead and rise to leave, already tortured with the separation.

Only for a few hours. Go, get some sleep, Trinity. Don't worry. There's time.

Zion, the Andersons' Master Bedroom, circa 2219

Twenty years later, my husband listens to the end of my story with an expression that anyone else would classify as boredom. I know better. He is very close to strangling me.

"Is that all?" he asks, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes. That's all."

"You're sure?"

I pretend to think about it. "Uh-hum."

"And… is there any particular reason you kept this to yourself for the last two decades?"

I'm about to say that he never asked, but I hold my tongue. I'm not wearing any clothes, so the fact that I can run faster than him won't help me. "I guess I didn't think that it was important. You didn't remember."

"But now everything that happened the following day… well, you… you knew I was in love with you."

"Yes?"

"And you couldn't have found one moment to bring me up to speed before I got shot to death?"

"Is it guilt you want? Are you guilt-tripping me over that again? You know, you could have said something."

"I did say something! The night before!"

"And then you woke up the next morning, blissfully unaware! Oh, good morning, Trin. Christ, I have a terrible headache. What the hell happened? Was it you who cleaned all the crap off my bedroom floor? 'Cause, you know, I can't find my fork… it wasn't in its usual state of being jammed into my ass when I woke up…"

"And then what did Trinity say? Blah, blah, blah! Naggity nag nag nag…"

"Excuse me?"

"You bitched at me about the dishes! I confessed my undying love to you, and the next time you saw me, you yelled at me for eating in front of the computer."

I nearly dissolve into laughter at the absurdity of the idea. And every word he is saying is absolutely true.

"Well, I'm glad one of us sees the humor in this."

"No, no." I wipe the smirk off my face. "It's just… well, what did you expect? I hadn't slept all night, pacing back and forth in my quarters, turning myself into a nervous wreck just waiting to see you. But being considerate, I let you sleep in while I made the crew breakfast… and then you pop your head in the mess-hall, looking for your fork, for God's sake. I was at such a loss for words, I just blurted out what came most naturally to me."

"And I quote," Neo says, adopting a fussy, feminine screech to imitate me, "Neo, I've confiscated your fork. When you can keep your dishes out of your bed and in your mesh bag where they belong, I will return it. Now drop and give me twenty!"

"I said no such thing!" (In truth, only the last sentence was inaccurate)

"And don't think I don't remember that you never gave that fork back to me!"

When he says this, a grin spreads across my lips, and I look away form him.

"What?"

"I still have it," I say. "If you want it, I'll give it to you."

"No, you do not still have it."

I wrap the sheets around my body to make a strapless dress as I shuffle off the bed and open my bottom dresser drawer. I remove some items from the front- my hairbrush, a few barrettes, a sequenced scarf one of the orphans stitched for me. The old metal box is in the back, an object that stands out as notably dull and plain, wrapped in a grey, threadbare cloth. I lift it out, replace the other items in their proper places, and join Neo back in bed.

"Are you a betting man?" I ask, opening the pewter lid and looking through the contents. Most are gifts he gave me long ago, love letters, photographs, and jewelry I don't wear anymore for fear of losing it. I also find a lock of Rorie's hair, taken just after she was born with thick, jet black tresses that fell to her shoulders. I smile, and hand it to Neo as I continue to look.

"Aha," I declare success finally when I produce two metallic utensils tied together with a ribbon. One is my spoon, still bent out of shape. And the other is Neo's fork.

"Here," I say, removing the latter and uncurling strands of raven silk from my husband's pinky. "You have been very good these past twenty years, keeping the silverware out of our bed. I'm trusting that you won't misuse this…"

For the first time since opening my box, I look over at him, and Neo gazes back, lips curled into an adoring smile. He takes the utensil from me and spins it around in his hand. "I can't believe you kept them all this time," he says. "Twenty years…"

"It's almost a shame to separate them after so long." I hold up the bent-up spoon. "She might get lonely, Neo."

"Oh, I doubt that." Neo takes the box and puts it on the nightstand. "Between you and me, Trin. I heard a rumor that the spoon has been having an illicit affair. Very kinky. They're planning to elope."

"Oh? With whom?"

"One of the plates from the glass cabinet in the hall."

My brow furrows. Now I've lost him.

"But they have to keep it a secret," Neo whispers into my ear. "Because the fork would be furious to hear that… the dish ran away with his spoon."

"Oh, Neo." And we wonder why Rorie doesn't want to bring her friends over.

"Lucky for them, the dish has a cousin who is legally certified to perform the ceremony. They call him a licensed plate."

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet the Andersons. I grab a pillow and cover Neo's face with it, in an attempt to put him out of his misery (stick a fork in him, he's done). Neo laughs, and in one quick movement manages to reverse our position, straddling me and pinning my hands above my head. I fight back only half-heartedly, because his mouth lands on my lips, then to my neck, and when he traces a line down lower, I give up completely.

"Does this mean you've forgiven me?" I ask, squirming a little as he reaches my navel.

"Hm? What? Oh… that. Uhm… No, of course not. You've been bad, keeping secrets from me. And now you're going to be punished by Master Neo." He returns to my breasts and kisses in circles, mumbling into my skin. "You naughty, disobedient… beautiful… perfect… wonderful woman."

Master Neo has a short attention span for discipline (hence why Mistress Trinity often has to take over). Still, I let him roam, toying with his hair as he nips at my skin, gently caressing my curves. It's post-coital play, which more often than not leads to more serious things, and it very nearly does, until we roll over, and I'm nearly impaled by Neo's sadistic fork. We both laugh, and search though the sheets for the spoon, putting them aside to avoid injury.

"I'm sorry I didn't remember," he breathes, snuggling next to me and covering us in blankets. "I'm sorry I didn't remember telling you I love you."

"Mmm. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you that you told me that you love me. You probably won't believe me, but I almost did tell you, that morning. After I chewed you out about the dishes, and you sulked over to the sink to wash them… I was watching you. Wanting you. And I was about to come up behind you and tell you how I felt. But just then, the crew came in for breakfast."

Our legs entwine, and he listens to me soberly, almost solemnly. "And then… who knows how that day might have been different," he muses.

"Yeah." I smile sadly. "Who knows."

But the reality is, that morning Morpheus took Neo to see the Oracle. Less than half an hour after we ate, I was in the passenger's side of that car, looking back at Neo's bewildered expression as the buildings drifted by like clouds.

I used to eat there. Really good noodles, was his inside joke to me. And then, he'd turned more serious. I have these memories from my life… none of them happened. What does that mean?

There was that question again. What does it mean.

My entire life fell to pieces that day. Within an hour, half my crew was dead. And within two hours, so was Neo.

Clinically dead, for eighty-nine seconds…