"We'll come back for her, when she's well enough." He paused. "And him," he added evenly.
"That bad, huh?"
"It's fine." He was staring out at the drizzle as it misted her windows. It never seemed to rain properly here anymore. Always that half-hearted effort. It fit.
"Sounds it."
"He's a good guy," he said dully. "And he cares about her. In fact I think he loves her."
"That why you wanna kill him?"
Neo's face tightened. "It's my problem. I don't plan on making it theirs."
"Already is, wouldn't you say?"
"She has to make her own choices. Without," he glanced at her, "executive meddling. We'll work something out then, whatever she needs us to do."
She clicked her teeth. "Why do this to yourself? You know you could just look at her code."
"I'd never do that."
The Oracle raised an eyebrow. "Never?" she said.
"Only when she was hurt. It was for her, then."
"This wouldn't be?"
"No. It'd be disrespectful as hell. I won't spy on her."
"So you told Ghost."
"Yeah, well. Their conversations aren't my business either."
She sighed, evidently exasperated. "I once said you weren't too bright. Thought you'd proven me wrong - seems not."
He shrugged tiredly, but said nothing more.
"You ever wondered what it's gonna be like for her? When she remembers?"
"Of course I have. Knowing I saw this won't help her."
"She'll be scared you can't forgive her. That will?"
"There's nothing I couldn't forgive her. And there's nothing to forgive. She's done nothing wrong. But I have to give her the chance to forget, if she wants to. Everything that's happened." He sighed. "Me, even, if that's what she needs to do."
"You're running away for her sake, not your own? Noble of you."
He followed her eyes to the writing above the door, and his face tightened again. "You've been pretty involved. In what she and I have. The war's over now; it's not something that affects anyone else anymore. We have to work it out for ourselves."
"No man is an island. Or woman, either." She took another drag on her cigarette, then exhaled it into a deep cloud of smoke. "Specially when it comes to the survival of the species."
"Yeah, well. I think we've already done our bit for the species. Someone else can have a turn."
"Just as well that girl of yours can see straighter, even when she's blind," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. And if you don't, then heaven help you, 'cause I sure as hell can't."
He printed off the few emails Trinity had sent him - even the most perfunctory and mundane were precious, when he had nothing else - and then cleared his desk of the imaginary detritus of his imaginary job. He went to the elevator with his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. As soon he left the building, he exhaled, and tried to push away the sudden emptiness.
He wasn't going to see her now, not for weeks.
And when he did, Zach might be with her.
He still couldn't accept it. Couldn't believe it was happening at all. How the hell had it - had they - come to this? Four months ago, she'd told him she'd give anything and everything for him, and less than a day later she'd proven it. She'd died for him, and done it gladly. And now another man held her, kissed her, touched her, shared her bed. He wondered, yet again, how he could know this and endure it. But of course, he couldn't. It was why he was leaving, after all.
When he got in he slumped in a chair, his head in his hands, and exhaustedly awaited contact. All that mattered, now, was that he'd be home soon. Out of this place. Free of code, back with his own kind, in his own apartment, in Zion. Somewhere he could honor his past and acknowledge his memories, with people who shared them, people who knew him, in a place that was real.
Then it suddenly hit him. Was it even his apartment? When it had always been hers? When he had no idea what she'd want, when she was freed? She might choose to leave behind the pain and loss and fear that had haunted every step of what they'd shared. And if she did, would she resent his assumption that her bed was still his, that he could move straight back into her home, even in her absence, even knowing she was with someone else? Had their relationship, forged in war as it was, now served its purpose? Would another man share their bed in Zion, share her life, make love to her by the light of those flickering candles? Where, now, did he belong?
He had a sudden, sickening memory of the palatial new duplex being constructed for him off the main concourse. He'd been horrified when told; he'd wanted to tell them to forget it, that they surely had better uses for Zion's resources. But then he'd realized that he had to consult Trinity - it wasn't only his decision, after all, where they lived. And now it looked like he might live there by himself. Rattle around an eight room apartment - the largest in Zion - all alone.
There wasn't an end to it. He wasn't sure there ever would be.
A knock on the door broke him from the misery, and he moved across gratefully to answer it. But it wasn't who he expected.
"Is this a bad time?" she said eventually, as he stared at her, shocked. She sounded awkward, hesitant, thrown by his reaction. Already regretting whatever impulse had brought her here in the first place. It depressed him horribly.
He rubbed his eyes with his fists, exhausted, bleary. At a complete loss. Then a thought suddenly struck him. "How did you... you know where I live?" For a moment, he had a wild hope that she'd remembered, that she was here to tell him so, but her next words punctured that illusion completely.
"Zach gave me your address." She looked at him, frowning slightly, her eyes worried. He suddenly realized how unwelcoming he'd sounded, almost accusatory. Like she was some kind of stalker. "I didn't mean to intrude... if you have, you know." She cleared her throat. "Someone coming over. Or..."
"No," he said at once. "Nothing like that."
"You sure? Because I can..."
"I'm glad to see you," he interrupted. "I was just confused. I mean..." he sighed, and gave up. "Why are you here?"
"To talk you into goodbye drinks," she said simply. "They'd made plans - everyone at work."
So she was just here as some kind of deputation from the office. It wasn't personal at all. The disappointment was so crushing, he couldn't bring himself to respond.
"I said I'd do it because I figured nobody else would let you say no," she said, when the silence threatened to become awkward.
"It was why I left early. To avoid it."
She nodded. "I thought so."
There was another silence, before Neo ventured, "So is... is he in the car?"
"What?" she said blankly.
"Zach. Is he in the car."
"Oh. No, he's not with me." She paused, then added, "We broke up."
He stood silent for a moment, trying to hide his emotion. "I hope you're okay," he said at last.
"I'm fine. It was best ended."
"Well. I hope so."
But she didn't seem interested; just stood looking at him, an oddly questioning expression on her face. "Can I ask you something?" she said.
"Ask me something?"
"Yeah."
"Sure. What is it?"
"It's a little embarrassing. If I'm wrong."
"Embarrassing?"
"Yeah." She hesitated. "You see, I have a gap of a few months - before the accident. No memories at all."
"Okay," he said doubtfully. He had no idea why she would raise this with him. Nor why the machines had done it at all.
"But the thing is," she went on, her voice level and steady, "I think I knew you. Before I started at work, I mean. I can't remember you, but I just - I have this feeling." She was looking at him intently. "Did I?"
He was silent for a few minutes, just staring back at her, as he tried to establish what the hell to do - what would be in her best interests. "Yeah," he said eventually. "Yeah, you did."
She let her breath out, seemingly unaware she'd been holding it. "I knew it. It's been getting to me for weeks." He remained silent, as she stood, looking at him, waiting for him to say more. Eventually she gave up and spoke herself. "Was it well? That you knew me?"
He nodded, his eyes guarded, but volunteered nothing further.
"How well?"
"It's kind of a long story."
"That's alright. I'm not in any hurry."
"It'll sound... a little strange."
"Really."
"Yeah. In fact I'm not sure that it's such a good idea. Talking about it, I mean."
Her mouth began to set. "You think I don't have a right to know about my own life?"
"Of course you do. But..." he made a helpless gesture, "it's complicated."
"Life usually is," she said.
"Not this complicated. And I just - I don't know what you want to know. How much you want to know, either."
"The truth would be good," she said, her voice so very even he knew she was perilously close to losing her temper. "All of it."
"We... we had something," he said at last. He couldn't look at her - he was frightened she'd read his mind if he did. But this final evasiveness was too much, it seemed, for Trinity.
"Look, at this rate it could take hours. Are you trying to tell me we had sex?"
They had sex. The bare words seemed so inadequate, so unrelated to what had passed between them - the passionate exchange of joy, of commitment, of love. But he couldn't begin to convey that to her - to describe the communion they'd shared. "Yeah," he said at last, reluctant. It seemed such a betrayal. "I guess so."
"More than once?"
He winced and looked away, quite unable to answer. Her face softened, as she took in his distress.
"I'll take that as a yes," she said, and sighed. "I know how hard things are with you - I'm sorry to have added to it. I can appreciate why you just..." She paused, then went on, "Why you wanted to forget it ever happened. Look, I'll just... I'll go."
"What?" he said, horrified. She'd already turned away, was starting to walk down the hallway; face averted, head bowed. He caught her arm. "No - God, you have this so wrong." He knew he sounded desperate, but he couldn't help himself - he was desperate. However anxious he'd been about this moment, however frightened of the widening distance between them, he'd never imagined anything as bad as this. "No. Trinity, please. Please don't do this, I can't bear it, it's been months already. Please, just don't."
She froze. Then she turned her head as though she were moving underwater, and stared at him. "What did you just call me?" she said.
He stood dumbly for a moment, then briefly closed his eyes as he realized. "Oh, Christ."
"What the hell?" Her mouth began to tighten. "What is this?"
"God, I'm so sorry. Look, there's nothing to be afraid of. I swear there's not."
"No," she said curtly. He recognized the expression on her face; she was shutting down everything other than her mind and her anger now: focused, tough. Survival mode. Matrix mode. "You're fucking with me. You have to be - this is way too insane for anything else."
"Fucking with...? Jesus, Trinity, I'd never do anything to hurt you. I'd die first."
"But you clearly are," she said, her eyes hostile, her mouth set in a grim line, "and yet mysteriously you remain very much alive."
"No. I'd never do that. Whether you believe me or not, it's the truth."
"But you have to be. You went on and on about this woman. About how fucking insane she was..."
"I never said you were insane. Never. Only that you'd forgotten everything. Forgotten me. And you already know that's true. You asked, remember?"
She looked at him, contemptuous. "You're trying to tell me I've forgotten my own name?"
"And mine," he said, and sighed. "Not that it matters. But you forgot mine, too."
She suddenly went very still. "What?" she said.
"My name isn't Tom."
"So what is it?"
"Neo."
"Neo?" she said slowly, and there was something in her voice that caught his attention.
"Yeah. You never called me anything else."
She stood looking at him, her face blank. Thinking. It made him feel sick, knowing the damage this could do her; knowing he should have allowed her to walk away - out of his life again, if that was what she needed. It was too soon for these revelations. Asking a leap of faith of this magnitude was asking way the hell too much, even of her. But there was nothing he could do to help or convince. So he stood, silently watching her, expecting a renewed onslaught of questions. Questions he didn't know if he should, even could, answer.
But she didn't ask them.
She just stood for several minutes, looking at him intently. Then she closed the two paces between them, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.