Morgana sat awake, chest heaving, heart racing, drenched in a cold sweat. Looking around, she wrapped the sheets all around her, and cried out for Smith, who was normally in her apartment at this time.
Smith entered her room, and looking at Morgana, asked, "'Morgana, what happened? Are you okay?" Sitting down next to her on the bed, and grabbing her face between his hands, he kissed her forehead, looking into her eyes with concern.
Morgana, holding onto Smith, started crying.
"Oh, Smith, I just had the most terrible dream," she sobbed into his chest. "I know it was just a dream, but I'm still so scared ..."
"What did you dream about?" He asked. "It's okay, I've got you."
"I dreamed that my sister came to get me, said you were lying to me, and then you appeared, and there was this gun fight ..."
"It's okay," Smith said, looking into her eyes. "It was just a dream. It didn't happen."
Morgana nodded, wiping her tears.
"I love you," Smith said, his blue eyes brimming with adoration. "I love you."
Guiding her head toward him, he kissed her lips passionately, pulling her towards him, and fully enveloping her in his arms.
Blushing, her heart jumping at hearing his words and experiencing his love, she kissed him back and said, "Oh, Smith, I love you, too ... I love you so much more than you could ever know."
As time slowed down in their embrace, and Morgana returned to normal, he thought about how close he had come to losing her. Furious at Natasha and the rebels this time, he swore he would not hold back the next time he encountered them—they would not take away the only human that made existence bearable. He could have easily killed Natasha, and that burly male, but he minded Morgana too much. Certainly, if he had killed Natasha, there was no way he could have restarted Morgana to believe that it was just a dream—her death would have altered her code and her memory so severely, that she would "wake up" for sure. He would have to think up of other countermeasures to guard against this type of attack in the future; measures which shielded Morgana from seeing him kill her sister.
"Just what the hell were you thinking?!" Captain Ulrikson shouted. Even though he was a short, elderly man with a gray beard, he was still rather athletic and possessed a very sharp mind. His fatherly patience with the crew had this time run short, however, and the crew grew fearful at his rare, yet frightening displays of temper. Even the other four crew mates, who had no part in any of the operation, were taken aback. The Captain, after all, hadn't become Captain, if not for close to twenty years on the hovercrafts, avoiding Agents and liberating minds.
"Saving my sister, Sir," said Natasha with some shame, but without regret for doing her due diligence.
"Without my permission?" Shouted Ulrikson. "Hiding information about this Agent that could be useful to us, and Zion? Planning an entire high-risk operation under my nose, and putting your crew mates' lives at risk?!"
"That was my fault, Captain," said Marcus. "I recruited Jet and Orion for this operation."
"Oh, did you...?" Asked Ulrikson, nodding his head.
"I wanted to go, Sir," said Orion. "I believed it was for a just cause. Lieutenant Natasha is a good officer, Sir."
"Ah," said Ulrikson, with raised eyebrows.
"And, if I may, Sir," said Jet. "I know that you're familiar with my story. I felt personally compelled to help Lieutenant Natasha's sister avoid the same fate as my brother any way I could."
"Of course," Ulrikson said. "An understandable reaction. But Natasha, you do realize, that by doing what you did, you could endanger your sister more, knowing what she does?" Asked Ulrikson.
"Fuck," Natasha said. She hadn't thought that far ahead. She internally cursed at herself for being so stupid.
"It's a miracle she's still alive," said Ulrikson. "Manipulation, keeping the status quo, love ..." he emphasized, pausing. Looking at every single one of his crew mates' eyes, he continued. "Whatever reason Agent Smith has for keeping her alive is a mystery of its own. He has made her believe that it was all just a dream."
Natasha sighed in relief. "Fuck, thank god ..." she said.
"However, I want to remind you all that conducting unauthorized operations of any kind is grounds for termination. I want you all to think of what you did, and what this means for you, but not before I say this: Though unauthorized, you responded to an unprecedented situation in the best way you could. You were right to think, Natasha, that because of Smith's influence on your sister, Zion would have called it off, and honestly, I probably would have, too."
Looking at Natasha, she stared at him back with a morose expression. Well, shit, she thought. This was it. This would be the story of how she got dishonorably discharged from service.
"But you refused to let that stop you. You came to the fore, refusing to let go of your sister no matter the outcome, and with a crew of just three individuals, you managed to escape unscathed. I admit, this shows a lot of courage, and heart, Lieutenant Natasha, and it reminds me that though at times foolish, you are all still one hell of a crew, and I'd have a very hard time finding your replacements."
As they all smiled, and broke out in some bittersweet laughter, Natasha asked, "So what does this mean?"
"It means that I'm on board with the mission now: Morgana is still showing signs of questioning, and you managed to put together a decent plan ... Regardless, I have to abide by protocol and go to Zion with this. Know that I will not fire you, but whatever Zion says is out of my control," Ulrikson said.
"Got it," said Natasha, looking at Marcus. The two exchanged defeated yet hopeful glances, as they, Orion, and Jet wondered just what would become of their future.
"It's been a long night," said Captain Ulrikson. "Try to catch some sleep; we're heading to Zion first thing in the morning."
After that terrible dream, Morgana wondered why she felt so bad and shaken-up by it still. She had experienced worse nightmares in the past, but they never haunted her like this, and she certainly never cried after having them. This felt almost real, too real, and she felt herself contemplating the dream so much, that it compelled her to start researching her sister's disappearance alone.
When Smith left to work, she called Dr. Judkins' office to set up an appointment, stating generic things such as "feeling down" and "having no energy"—which, ironically, weren't far from the truth. Luckily, he was accepting walk-ins today, so she quickly got ready and drove to his clinic.
Surprisingly empty, she didn't sit for long in the dark green chairs of the waiting area before the medical assistant called her in and assessed her. Following the assistant to the doctor's door, she cleared her throat before she let her in.
"Dr. Judkins, this is Morgana Greer," the assistant said.
"Ah, Morgana," Dr. Judkins, announced a scrawny, elderly man in his 80s with a hoarse, quivering voice. "Have you any relation to Natasha?"
"Of course," Morgana said. "She's my sister."
"HIPAA, doctor," the assistant urged, reminding him.
"Bah," frowned the doctor, waving his hand in disapproval. Morgana laughed and smiled; what a cool little old man, she thought.
Closing the door behind her, the assistant left them alone.
"She was ... an interesting patient," Dr. Judkins continued. "Anyways, what brings you here today?"
Morgana gave him a list of mild depressive symptoms, all which she knew that he would suggest simple lifestyle changes for. After getting the doctor talking, she turned her topic back to Natasha.
"So, Dr. Judkins ... With my sister's disappearance and all, I've been meaning to ask: was she really a schizophrenic, like our mother?" She asked.
Dr. Judkins sighed and shook his head, saying, "No, no, no, not at all! I was mentoring a psychiatric resident during that time—wasn't worth a damn—who forgot that hypnagogic and hypnopompic hallucinations occur in completely sane individuals," he explained.
"The hallucinations people get sometimes before and after they wake up?" Asked Morgana, feeling lighter somehow.
"Precisely!" Exclaimed Dr. Judkins. "Natasha claimed to have been experiencing these, so he went on and diagnosed her with schizophrenia and wrote her a prescription for quetiapine. Was it any wonder that a few days later, your sister came into the clinic, all screwed-up on medication that she didn't need? I fired his ass from my practice for that."
"Good," she said, "Too many dumbass doctors these days."
"Oh, tell me about it," said Dr. Judkins with a smile, and they shared a laugh together.
Starting to feel better, Morgana asked, "So she was totally normal, all this time?"
"Absolutely," he said. "Natasha ... was very smart, you see. She noticed things others typically didn't. She certainly had some wild ideas, at least the ones she told me about, but her sanity was completely intact."
"Dr. Judkins, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that," she said, and then, she arrived to the sinking realization that not only had Smith lied to her, but Natasha in her dream was right. What else had he been lying to her about? What else in the dream was right?
"Of course," he said. "Your mother, unfortunately, is a true schizophrenic. Were you concerned about her heritability?"
"Yes," she said. "For a while, I was worried I was going crazy, but I guess there were so many things going on in my life, I was overthinking it."
"Well, if it's of any consolation right now, Morgana," he said. "No, you are not a schizophrenic. Believe me, after almost fifty years of reading people, the schizophrenics stick out right away. Most don't even question themselves at all."
"Thank you, Dr. Judkins," said Morgana. "Thank you so much. You have truly helped me feel better."
Exiting the clinic, Morgana walked with a sense of determination, willing to find out what was real and wasn't real this time. Getting in her car and blasting on her music, she returned home to do more research.
As Agent Smith overlooked the city through a large, glass window that covered that entire side of the office, he wondered about Morgana. He could choose to visit her right now, but he worried that he was already arousing suspicion from not just the Mainframe, but Agents Brown and Jones.
"The Mainframe has been inquiring about your progress regarding the subject, Agent Smith," said Agent Brown.
"It's all under control," he said. He hated it when she other, lesser Agents questioned him. "The subject is where I want her, and her loyalty to the Matrix continues. There is no cause for concern."
"Forgive me, Agent Smith, but there was a scene involving rebels and the subject last night," Agent Jones said. "I don't know if that is considered to be 'under control.'"
"I advise you to remember your place, Agent Jones," said Smith, turning to him. "The subject fully believes it was a nightmare."
"Then I suppose that's a good sign," said Agent Brown.
"Indeed," said Agent Jones.
"However," continued Agent Brown. "We are starting to believe that your current methods are ... inefficient. You are spending too much time with the subject, Agent Smith, in exchange for fickle results. Perhaps, you should reconsider previous methods."
"I appreciate your input, Agent Brown, but there is no need to worry," Smith said. He could not dream of ever using violence to harm Morgana. "Now, leave me. Tell the Mainframe that I've got it all under control."
Both Agents looked at each other before leaving the office.
"Natasha," called out Marcus, walking excitedly across the deck, looking for her.
Natasha, helping one of the other crew mates repair something, turned to face him.
"Please tell me it's something good," she said. "We're about the face the whole Council of Zion."
"Yes, it is," he said, smiling. "She's starting to believe. I saw it. She went to your psychiatrist and he told her the truth. She knows Smith is lying to her now, and slowly realizing that we're right."
"Fuckin' A," Natasha said with a smile. "It looks like this is the domino that falls and puts everything else in motion."
"Positions, everyone! We're approaching Zion in 10 more minutes!" Commander Harker announced.
As the hovercraft approached the gates, Natasha felt a surge of hope fill her up. She didn't know what the Council would think, but she wasn't as worried as she was before. Morgana showed promise, and that's all that mattered.