a/n: Thanks so much to those who continue to review ever chapter, and to the girls (and one boy) through the Looking Glass for inspiration.

To see my concept sketches for Rorie, Trin, and Syn (UC), go to the following URL:

www(dot)xanga(dot)com(slash)kristeb

Chapter 17
Zion. circa2219

"Eighty-nine point oh-three seconds, to be exact," Rorie corrects, beaming delight as she reads the digits from the screen. "Measuring the flat line from the t-wave to the p-wave crests on the EKG."

Dressed in a crisp white lab-jacket and a pair of latex gloves, the bubbly young scientist sighs her wonder and satisfaction. This data has been lost for nearly twenty years, charred to a crisp in the scattered remains of the Neb. And now she finally has it. She can finally hold the truth in her hands. "You're a miracle worker, Knight," she congratulates the man who just spent five hours extracting the files from the damaged hardware. "If you'll forgive the pun."

"Yeah, the pun I'll forgive," the he replies dryly. "What I won't forgive is the phone call at two in the morning, asking me to come down to the lab and doctor these computer chips back together for you. It couldn't have waited?"

"Oh come on, where is your sense of adventure!" Rorie grabs his arm and drags him over to the tray of memory cards she'd been picking through when she made her discovery. "Do you realize that we are now witnesses to history? Books have been written about this! Children are told the bedtime story about how my father was resurrected from the dead… and now, we have uncovered the proof! Doesn't that excite you?"

Knight examines her for a second or two. Her face is lit up like a light bulb, glowing, as she would say, in anthropological triumph. He smiles.

"Well?"

"Well, I think… I'm delighted that you're happy. But, I just don't see how this really proves anything that matters. So your dad was dead…"

"And then he came back to life." She points to the screen to emphasize her point.

"Yeah. I see that. But… well, okay. Let me put it to you this way." He leans on the table and pushes his sleeves up to his elbows, putting his thoughts together. "My senior year at the Academy, I had to do this two-month internship at fleet medical," he begins. "Worst experience of my life, let me tell you. I passed out halfway through a delivery."

"They let you deliver a baby?"

"Well, I was watching from behind the glass. Anyway, the point is, I saw a lot of traumatizing things. This one night, a guy comes in, cardiac arrest. Died before they got him on the table, and he must have been dead for a good two, three minutes, at least. But they zap him with the paddles, and he comes back to life. So there you go. That guy's EKG was probably no less miraculous than your dad's."

Rorie folds her arms across her chest smugly, as she often does when she is convinced she's right. "But Dad didn't get the paddles. Mom kissed him."

Knight grins. "Yeah, well. Six of one, half a dozen of the other."

"What?"

"I'm just saying that…" He trails off and shrugs, running a hand through his curly, golden hair. "Maybe those lips pack a punch."

"So that's your big scientific argument? My mom is a good kisser?"

"Hey, all I'm saying is if I were dead, and Trin kissed me… hell, I'd come back to life, just to get seconds."

"Oh, my God!" Rorie's jaw drops in replusion. "You did not just say that about my mom! Knight, she's old enough to be your mother… for God's sake, she practically is your mother!"

He just chuckles, rather amused by her reaction to his comment. Free-borns are so easy to frazzle. "You're jealous, is that it? Well, you shouldn't be. You're hot, too. In fact, between you and Trin, I'd have to say it's a tie. The acorn certainly didn't fall far from the tree."

"Knight-"

"Okay, okay. You're the hotter one. But don't tell Trin I think so. It'll crush her."

"Oh, God, Knight don't say another word."

"Huh?"

His smile fades as he watches Rorie's facial expression, which goes from disgusted to mortified in an instant, and she isn't looking at him. She's looking over his shoulder. "Hi, Mom," she says uneasily as his stomach sinks past his knees. "We didn't see you standing there."

Knight stops breathing and spins around, blood rushing from his face so fast he very nearly faints. And what he finds behind him nearly gives him a heart attack- either from shock or relief. Of course, there is nobody there. Rorie bursts out laughing.

"I suppose I deserved that one."

"Yeah, and I wish… I wish I had a camera!" she whoops, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Oh, my gosh! Your face turned green!"

"Well, it's nice you're having so much fun. You know, I could have stayed in bed."

"No, no," She tries to stop laughing, but fails miserably. "Just… give me a minute…"

Knight watches her struggle with wave after wave of giggles, before he finally can't take any more, and wraps one arm around her waist so he can muffle her cackling with his free hand. Rorie tries to fight him off, squirming and twisting, an ungraceful dance which ends with her against the wall, laughing uncontrollably as he pins her wrists above her head. "Say you're sorry," he demands.

She shakes her head, no. So he runs his hand along her ribcage, just brushing the place where he knows she is ticklish beyond reason. "No! No!" Rorie pleads. "Stop! I'm sorry!"

"Are you sure?"

She nods, almost violently, catching her breath. "Yes. Please, don't."

Knight holds her for a few extended moments, like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. Her hair is in her face, deep brown eyes wide and anxious, begging him not to torture her. They should have outgrown this kind of roughhousing long ago, he thinks, his gaze drifting lower to her perfectly formed lips. They should have stopped this when she was twelve.

"Okay then," Knight says abruptly, releasing her with a quick kiss to the forehead. "I'm going back to bed."

"No, wait." Rorie catches his arm. "I wanted to discuss something with you. Mom and Dad's eighteenth wedding anniversary is coming up. I was thinking of what to get them."

"Last year, I programmed the construct to rain rose petals while Moon River played in the background. The crew got a kick out of it."

"Yeah, well. As romantic as I'm sure that was, I've got another idea. It came to me while I was writing up this documentary about how they fell in love. But, I need your help with it. Are you in?"

Something about the look on her face is setting alarm bells off in his mind. "Wait. What are you planning?"

"Well, remember that time you dressed up in drag for Halloween? You were acting in that play at the Fringe Festival… what's it called the… the uhm… Roxy Horror-"

"The Rocky Horror Picture Show."

"Yeah, that's it. You had that really great singing voice. And your dancing was pretty good, too… well, until your heel broke off midway through that strange version of the Macarena."

"It's called the Time Warp, and thank you for reminding me of the most humiliating moment of my life."

"It wasn't that bad. The audience gave you a standing ovation."

"I mean when your mom rushed to the infirmary when she heard they'd set my ankle, and she found me lying in a hospital bed, wearing lipstick, a cast, and a black leather corset."

Rorie holds back a giggle. Yes, that had been the subject of many dinnertime conversations. "Well, don't worry. I won't ask you to do that again. This time, I'll be wearing the black leather corset."

"In that case, I'm definitely in."

"I'm glad you said that. Because I need a male lead."

Knight falters, and realizes that he'd just been manipulated somehow. "Wait, no. What do you mean? Lead for what?"

"Oh, you'll see soon enough." Rorie smiles suggestively and winks. "In the meantime, you and I have got some research to do."

"No way. I'm though with these damn computer chips. Goddamn things gave me a headache."

"No. Not the chips." She shuts down the computers and takes his hand. "Call it a fun little… fieldtrip."

The Zionist Museum of Heritage is not Knight's idea of fun. Nor is exploring the newest exhibition, 'Neo and Trinity, the Early Years,' his idea of an appropriate fieldtrip (considering he'd just had dinner at The One's house last night, the whole thing seems rather silly). Naturally, Rorie disagrees. If it's educational, it couldn't possibly be a waste of time. Besides, it might inspire them for what she has cryptically begun to call their 'project.' Oh, and yes please, she'd like the audio tour.

It doesn't help that people keep staring at them. No, not at them. Staring at her, The Daughter of The One, as she roams about with earphones around her neck, pad and pen in her hand, taking everything in with a keen, critical eye. She pretends not to notice the pointing and whispering, but they both know this will be all over the papers tomorrow. Aurora, tireless patroness of art and culture in Zion, was spotted yesterday morning at an exhibit celebrating her parents' past. Oh, and she was with some guy. Knight frowns. They always spell his name wrong… 'Night.'

With a subtle gesticulation, Rorie motions him over to her as she slowly circles a life-sized marble statue, titled by an iron plate on the floor, The Resurrection. It stands out among some of the other items in the room, many of which are mural-like paintings of Trinity throwing herself over her lover's body as blazing laser beams rip the ship apart around them, a sentinel's claws inches form tearing her to shreds. For effect, the original beast is displayed in all its terrifying glory on cables hanging from the ceiling, like a set of dinosaur bones, poised to look as fierce as possible. The rusted, inanimate tentacles stab out into a gathering of patrons, and the ruby eyes have been wired to batteries to restore the creature's once fiery, iridescent stare.

Knight shakes his head. Trin would hate this. People are actually taking pictures next to the damn thing. Mostly free-borns. Go figure. Without a second glance, he returns his attention to Rorie.

The sculpture she studies is a milky white facsimile of a much younger version of her parents, elegantly formed with smooth curves and subtle details. Trinity is the same height as Rorie, the same build, tiny and dainty as she bends over Neo's horizontal likeness, hands resting on his chest. And she kisses him, their faces flowing together like water, both bodies carved from the same piece of stone.

"They say that she told him she wasn't afraid," Rorie whispers, brushing her fingers along her father's smooth, ivory cheek. Pensively, she regards the sentinel from a distance, staring through the crowd, choosing to ignore the spectacle. "Can you imagine?"

Knight looks down at the chiseled rendering of his captain. In fact, he can imagine. "Sounds like something she'd say."

"Mm. Let's just hope insanity skips a generation," Rorie murmurs drolly, flipping through her museum guide to the appropriate page.

"Sorry, hon. I think you're genetically doomed for greatness."

"Listen to this. It says here that the work was commissioned by the council as a wedding gift to my parents. It's been on loan to the museum ever since."

"Guess Trin didn't want it in her living room. Can't imagine why."

She smiles and slides her arm through his. "You know, I used to beg my mother to tell me this story. Always this one. And the way she told it… this was the kind of image I always had in my mind afterwards. Probably because she knew better than to scare me with details about sentinels and agents."

"Or bore you with data from the EKG."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Knight. Do I bore you?"

"No, that isn't what I meant." Knight leads her from one room to the next, away from a group of people who had been eavesdropping on their conversation. "All I'm saying is, maybe you're looking for truth in the wrong place. You can't prove a miracle, Rorie. You just have to take it on faith."

"That's a very unusual statement coming from you," she observes. "I didn't think you were a religious person."

"I'm not. God had nothing to do with bringing your dad back. Neither did that kiss, though I'm sure it was a good one."

"Then what? If not God, a kiss… or the paddles?"

Knight arches his eyebrow and draws her attention to a photograph mounted behind glass. It looks like it was taken on the Neb, not long after her father was unplugged. Neo and Trinity are huddled together in the operator's chair, fast asleep under a blanket. She is on his lap, his head on her shoulder. The plaque below reads,

'Reproduction courtesy of Councilor Morpheus, who wishes to remind the people that the birth of The One, was not the death of a man.'

"Love," Knight says thoughtfully, much to Rorie's immense surprise. "Maybe that's the only miracle he needed. To be everything he already was, right from the start. Maybe… that's all any of us ever need."

Nebuchadnezzar, circa 2199

Neo tastes blood in his mouth as he kisses her, as he cups the back of her neck and pulls her deeper, like he has never kissed a woman before and never will again. And she feels like the first. The first who has ever moved him so intensely with her lips, who has ever touched him deeper than the surface, penetrating him completely, warming him from the inside out. His heart drowns in Trinity as his body drowns in pain, and his lungs scream for air. He takes a breath from her mouth as she whispers to him, lean back.

The needle slides over his nerves like a scalpel slicing bone when she presses down on his forehead and removes the jack. He looks up at the mangled hull, open to the sewers, of which he can see only darkness. And that quiet abyss is as cold as hell, pouring down onto him like black oil in a steady, frigid draft.

Don't move, is her next instruction, steel blue eyes intent on his, her face barely illuminated by a flickering light somewhere behind them. She lifts his shirt, delicate fingers pressing onto his chest. Be still, and tell me if I hurt you. Here? No. Here? He shivers. God, no. It isn't entirely true, but the dull ache in his abdomen is nowhere near what she would consider noteworthy. It's fading, slowly. As he watches Trinity examine him attentively, her beautiful features sharpened by anxiety and focus, he wills himself to overcome it. She isn't to worry, not now. She saved him. It's over.

Here? He catches her wrist. I'm okay, Trin. Just look at me. I'm fine.

She falters.

"Look at me," he insists. "Please."

Trinity lets out a shaky sigh, squeezing his hand as she peers back up. She softly murmurs a prayer, a thank you under her breath. Then she commands him in the same tiny voice, "Don't ever scare me like that again. Neo, promise me…"

"You said you weren't afraid."

She stares impassively for a long beat, understanding he'd heard everything, processing it. Then faintest suggestion of humor sparkles on the surface of two azure pools. "I lied," she deadpans. "So sorry, dear."

Dear. He grins. The angel! He almost laughs with her. "The rest was true, though."

She nods, humming an affirmative, never unlocking their eyes. "Me, too," he whispers. "I got up for you, Trin. That's all I know."

"Alright, then." She seems completely satisfied with this explanation, or more than that, even pleased with it. "So on your feet."

She helps him up, and he finds her ear, holds her close. "Thank you." Hercheek pressed to his neck, he senses her smile. At the same time, he sees the others. And he notices the tentacled machine at Trinity's feet, inches from where she'd been standing guard. Between him and the monster.

Where are your wings, Angel? Where is your halo?

"Tank, we're going to need communications," she says at last. "Get me status on the backup generators."

"I'm already on it."

"I need to know if the IC had time to correct for one through five shutdown."

"No, no. We lost it all."

"Then rerun anything left through main bus B. We'll run it all on the good cell."

"But… there's nothing there. They went straight for our batteries. We're dead in the water, Trinity."

"Bullshit. We've got at least five fried squid on our backs. Let's rip them open and scavenge what we can…"

Did it slip off your head while you were running from an agent, chasing down another soul to snatch from the devil? Or did the sentinels shatter it in a battle like this one, as you scraped and scurried with us mortals, here in the real world? Did they rip and tear at your wings until you fell from the sky? Until you fell from grace, to me? Strong, tiny, relentless Trinity…

"Neo." Morpheus' baritone voice startles him as the older man rests a hand on his shoulder. "I could use your help with insulating the hull," he says. "That is, if you can take your eyes off my first officer for a moment?"

Neo smiles to himself. Get used to it. But with the greatest effort he complies, giving his mentor the full attention he is owed. They regard each other with mutual esteem, and for the first time, Neo isn't intimidated by him. If anything, he feels as if it may be the other way around. "It won't be easy, sir," he says, extending his hand for a firm shake. "In fact, I'd say that ogling your first officer, is going to be among The One's highest prerogatives."