Switch played with her gun, spinning it around her fingers as she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling above her bunk aboard the hovercraft. The gun had been her first gift in the real world, the only real gift to this day.
Trinity came back from the markets at Zion one morning during Switch's first stay in the city, looking smug. "I found the perfect little welcome gift for you," she said, "I just need to fix one thing. Meet me at my place tonight." And with that, she scurried away towards a storage section.
When Switch walked over to Trinity's tiny apartment later, she found her shipmate perched on the edge of the wobbly table, still looking smug. Following her gesture, Switch occupied the single chair in the kitchenette.
"So I noticed how you just look so much more confident and alive inside the Matrix when you have your gun, it's like the light's switched on all of a sudden." Both of them chuckled at Trinity's choice of words before she went on, "And I want to see you grow just as vivid and brilliant here, in the real world. I want you to feel like yourself. I'm not sure what exactly your role will be in the end, but you're already making a damn fine guard and protector. So, I got you this," and Trinity threw her a small parcel, something heavy wrapped in old fabric.
With more fumbling luck than grace, Switch caught the bundle and opened the knotted string. After peeling away the fabric, she was been greeted by the sight of metal, coated in a not quite even layer of white spray paint. An old gun, a real one. Her heart leapt.
"You like it?"
What a silly question. "Oh yes. Yes, I do. I love it. Thanks so much!"
Trinity's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "I wish I'd been able to find matching bullets as well, bet you'd get a kick out of that. Though I guess it's better this way, Morpheus would probably have me drawn and quartered if he found out."
In the gloom of light from the corridor filtering through the gap under the cabin door, Switch could still see the matted white surface of her gun, and the weight in her hands still made her smile after all the long months. The weight was familiar, comfortable between fingers now stronger and more graceful with longer experience in this reality, almost matching her image in the Matrix. She still felt most at home when standing guard in the Matrix, protecting her friends, proud of being able to protect even strong stubborn Trinity, but having this physical piece of her virtual self had definitely made her feel more grounded in her new world, the real human world, bizarre and cold as it was.
With a tired sigh, she lowered her outstretched arms and touched the solid metal to her cheek, a personal little reality check, before tucking the gun back under the front waistband of her pants, another secret nightly ritual, a feeling of security. She allowed herself to briefly touch the bulk of the gun through the worn fabric, and a tiny smile. This, too, was a part of her.
*** Author's Note ***
This one can be read together with my previous story, "Different Freedoms". "White Gun" existed first on my computer, but needed some more work (the flashback was all in past perfect, which turned out just too cumbersome to read en bloc, hence the italics; let me know if this works or whether I should change it back) so the maybe prequel went up first. I decided against making them a two-chapter story though, as they are separate entities in my head, just in the same universe/timeline.
I played with the idea of elaborating on the last paragraph, but decided to leave it for now at the tiniest nod to the idea (and with that, to the original concept for the character which didn't make it into the movie) because to do it well and with the exact right feeling to it, the expressions would need more tact and finesse than what I can write at the moment.