Divine Daughter, Divine Son
Title: Divine Daughter, Divine Son
Fandom: The Matrix
Pairing: Trinity/Morpheus, Trinity/Neo
Timeline: Sometime before (or within the first twenty minutes of) Reloaded
Disclaimer: If they were mine, there wouldn't be any wooden dialog, and Trinity would save the world all by herself without anyone having to die.
Author's Note: Thanks to phineasjones for beta.
Summary: The Oracle told Morpheus that he would find the One. He thought he'd found her when he found Trinity. And then they both found Neo.
They’re Only Dreams
Trinity has always been cold. She used to think that it was something that would be explained when she was freed from the Matrix, one of the clues that reality wasn’t what she thought. She could say to people, “I was always cold, and that’s how I knew it wasn’t real.” But she’s cold in the Nebuchadnezzar. She’s cold in Zion. It’s just how she is. There is no explanation.
She notices the cold now, and tucks her hands into the sleeves of her shirt. She sits crouched on the bed, her knees bent and pulled to her chest. She closes her eyes and feels the humming of the ship under her, through her heels and her back. She stays that way, listening with her eyes closed, until she hears Neo coming down the hall. He pauses in front of the door but she can feel him there, picture his hand raising to knock; it sounds hollow against the steel.
“Trin?” he whispers, hesitant because it’s late and he probably thinks she is asleep.
“Yeah,” she says, more loudly than she means to, her voice echoing in the quiet room. She softens her pose as he comes in, folding her legs under her, sitting forward and smiling. Neo rubs a hand over his coarse hair and smiles back.
“Did you just get out?” she asks. He sits down next to her on the bed, and she leans toward him.
“It’s still weird seeing places I used to go to. I saw this restaurant I wanted to take you to. I forgot for a minute that it’s not real.”
“We could still go,” she offers. He shrugs.
“Are you assigned for the morning?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’ll try not to wake you.” She lies down, pulling Neo toward her so that his head is resting on her shoulder.
Neo hasn’t been sleeping fitfully and Trinity can’t bear to ask him why his dreams are troubling him. She knows that’s what’s keeping him up, because he always wakes with a sharp intake of breath. All she can do is let him know she’s there, and honestly, she understands; if they were her dreams, she wouldn’t say a thing either.
She listens to Neo breathing and she thinks maybe now is the time to tell him about everything that came before him, about her and Morpheus, about how they had all thought she was the One. She thinks sometimes that maybe somehow Neo already knows.
“I love you,” she says, taking one of his hands, bringing it to her lips and kissing it.
“I love you, too, Trin,” he says, and she watches him until he falls asleep, and then she does, too.
There Is No Spoon
She isn’t sure what made her go out tonight, but as soon as she stepped out of her apartment she felt restless and predatory. She doesn’t go to clubs often. She loves the loud music that can drive her mind to the stillness she aches for, the crowd that lets her stay anonymous, but often it’s easier just to stay home. To spend hours staring at the screen, her eyes unblinking, searching. If Morpheus was out there, she would find him. But tonight she was ready for another kind of search.
High-heeled boots, a shiny leather shirt, bare arms. Her hair is slicked back and her lips are pursed as she moves over the dance floor without dancing. She doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes. She’s looking at the hands of the women in the crowd, waiting for short fingernails, thin fingers. She finds something she likes, follows the hands up to the arms, draped with some gauzy material, to the collarbone, bare, to the neck, ivory, to the face. The girl sees her and smiles, and to Trinity’s delight, blushes slightly.
They dance, but the girl has friends who come to pull her away. The girl looks over her shoulder as she’s being dragged off, and Trinity lets her go. She has never had to leave alone; there is always some girl wanting to be found and played with. Although sometimes they are too willing to erase themselves in the moment and it’s too much for Trinity to take. Those times she remembers why she spends so much time alone.
The girl reappears soon after, at one of the tables with the same friends. Trinity decides to try again, and when she approaches, the friends scatter, and the girl licks her lips as she looks up to meet Trinity’s eyes.
“Smart friends,” Trinity says, as she takes a seat across from the girl.
“I hoped you’d find me,” she says.
Trinity places a hand on the girl’s knee, splays her fingers, and then leans forward across her own thighs. The girl is too far away but Trinity reaches for her anyway, moving her hand slowly up the girl’s leg, her head tilted to look up. It seems as though Trinity is the submissive one, her whole body lowered, but she’s waiting for the girl to give in, and she does, squeezing her eyes shut as Trinity’s fingers brush her hipbone. The girl nods and when Trinity stands, the girl follows her.
Trinity doesn’t have to ask; the girl gives her address to the taxi driver. Trinity pays, and then the girl is unlocking the door to her apartment and Trinity is pressing her up against the door the second it’s closed.
“I’d hoped you were impatient,” the girl says, and Trinity licks the line of her jaw.
“Be careful. I might just make you wait.” The girl whines, either at the words or because Trinity follows them by slipping her hands under the girl’s shirt. “So, do you have a bedroom?” Trinity asks, and the girl, her eyes shut tight, nods.
When the girl is asleep, Trinity rises from the bed and dresses, and then taps the keypad of the girl’s laptop to wake it up. She does this, sometimes, uses the girls’ computers to look for him. She figures it doesn’t matter where she is when she finds him; a computer is a computer and she certainly isn’t going to sleep.
“Soon,” she says. “Soon.”
Trinity pushes her chair back from her desk and goes to close the shades. It’s been a week now since she’s found anything new; she’s almost lost any trace of Morpheus, and it was just when she thought she had been getting close. She checks her search program again; nothing. More reason to go out again tonight.
Her computer clicks to a black screen just as she is zipping up her jacket. Her hands hover over the keys, and then her name appears, letter by letter, in green text.
More text follows. “You have found me.” Her heart explodes with beating.
“Morpheus? Where are you?” she says aloud.
Her phone rings. She jumps. “Hello?”
“Come to the club. But don’t go inside.” He hangs up, and Trinity barely has her shoes on when she runs out the door.
There’s a line at the club and the bouncer is checking the names on his clipboard. As she walks by, the bouncer shouts out to her, “I’ll let you in.” She holds backs a smirk. Others in the line grumble.
“I might come back,” she says, and the bouncer smiles.
“You looking for somebody?” he asks.
“No,” she says, and continues walking around the building.
Morpheus is standing in the doorway, all but invisible, and he does not look as if anything about Trinity surprises him.
“Trinity,” he says. “It’s so good to meet you.” As he steps out of the shadow of the doorway and grins at her, Trinity feels suddenly as if she can’t possibly stand close enough to him. “Come with me,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder and she leans into his arm. She understands then that everything she has ever known is going to change.
Love Like a Blow to the Head
As they load the tenth training program of the day, Trinity and Morpheus walk against an oncoming tide of people filling up the blank white space of a city street; they are going the wrong way during morning rush hour. Morpheus moves smoothly, not even shifting from his path, as though there were no people at all. Trinity is hit over and over by frowning men in suits, their shoulders smashing into her chest.
Morpheus is lecturing, low and resounding, but Trinity is having a hard time listening at this point. They’ve been at this for hours and days before that and she can already recognize Morpheus’ practiced speeches, can sense his comfort in the well-rehearsed.
“The Matrix is a system. That system is our enemy.” She hopes he gets to the point soon, because this is bullshit. She is strong and Morpheus is mocking her and suddenly the din of the crowd softens as a gorgeous woman in a red dress walks by, everyone else fading to grayscale. Trinity stops and watches her walk by; she’s stunning and fanciful and a little too showy - a man’s woman, voluptuous and enticing, but still, hard to turn away from.
Morpheus stops, too, and says, “Trinity?” She looks up at Morpheus, who asks “Were you watching the woman in the red dress?” as though he can hardly believe it.
Trinity grins, and then faster than she thought she could move, spins around and raises her gun to the forehead of an Agent, now standing just where the woman in the red dress had been.
“Operator, freeze it,” Morpheus says, his voice empty. Trinity hesitantly drops her weapon to her side and turns back to Morpheus. She realizes that this must be part of the training; the obvious yet irresistible decoy of the woman teaching the lesson that Agents could be anyone, anywhere.
“How did you do that?” Morpheus is staring at her. His calm is edged with incredulity.
“I could tell - I saw - something was wrong,” she says, unable to really explain how she knew.
“You’ve seen Agents before.”
Trinity thinks about it. “Yes, I guess so.”
“They must have been watching you.”
“Like you were.”
“Yes.”
She knows she has passed a test; she also knows that there is something Morpheus isn’t telling her as he turns his back to her and asks the operator to close the program. She thinks she sees his shoulders drop as if a great weight had just been lifted from them.
She knocks on his door loudly. She knows Morphus is alone; he is almost always alone. “Come in,” he says. His voice fills the air like a gong.
“It's Trinity,” she says, and closes the door heavily behind her. Morpheus is sitting on his
bed, his feet up, and his smile broadens slowly as he looks up at her.
“You did good work today,” he says, and she has a feeling it's a rare compliment.
She comes to sit next to him; it's what she means to do at least, to say something about training, or the hollow sounds of the ship, or how he still isn't answering most of her questions. Instead, she finds herself leaning closer and closer and Morpheus, in tandem, is leaning away from her until he is on his back and she is hovering over him, her hands on either side of his shoulders.
“Trinity,” he says, warningly, but softly.
But she closes her eyes and breathes in and says, “I love your voice,” and she feels him give in. “You're such a flirt when we're training. So confident, so powerful. But I can touch you here.” Trinity leans closer so that their torsos are pressed together and her thighs squeeze the outside of Morpheus’ hips.
"Yes," Morpheus says, and his chest rumbles. "We can touch in the real world. Isn't that amazing?" Morpheus raises a hand to touch her face, his thumb rubbing over her jaw.
"Yes, it is amazing," Trinity says, and kisses him. Morpheus makes a sound like a moan, only deeper - everything about Morpheus seems deeper - and runs both his hands, palms open wide, up and down her back.
Know Thyself
“I believe you are the One, Trinity,” Morpheus says to her as they stand alone watching the operator screens, green code sliding by like rivulets of water.
“I don’t know if I am,” she tells him. “I don’t know if I believe.”
“Tomorrow we will see the Oracle,” he responds. “And we will know the truth.”
She doesn’t sleep at all that night, and though she wants to seek out Morpheus, to feel his arms strong around her, she thinks it’s best to be by herself. She tries to recall everything Morpheus has told her, all of the things she could do that no one else could. Morpheus’ belief is so strong, it’s almost enough for both of them. She has tried since Morpheus had first explained the prophecy to understand that she might be a savior, that she has that kind of power. She is glad they will have the answers soon, so she can go on trying to accept whoever it is she is supposed to be.
Morpheus waits in the hallway as Trinity is ushered into the Oracle’s apartment. She wants to squeeze his hand or ask him for some last bit of advice, but she is glad they are in the Matrix where they are both cool and contained and wearing their intensely stoic expressions. The woman who walks her in is dressed in flowing robes and her face is soft and gentle. Trinity feels especially harsh standing out. She wonders if this is how it’s supposed to feel.
The Oracle’s apartment is empty. The cushions on the couch are askew, and there is a pile of children’s wooden alphabet blocks on the floor and several empty glasses on the coffee table. It looks as though there has recently been a crowd of people filling the living room, and now they’ve gone. Trinity wonders if she’s late.
“You can go in now,” the woman tells her, gesturing for Trinity to go through the kitchen door.
Trinity passes through the beaded curtain and is suddenly glad she is here alone, without the crowd of the living room, without Morpheus.
“Hello,” Trinity says to the Oracle, who is standing with a hand on her hip and leaning against the counter.
“You’ve come a long way to get here. Longer than most,” the Oracle says, sizing her up and then taking a seat at the table.
“I’m not sure what that means,” Trinity says, also sitting down.
“Oh, you don’t have to be so cautious with me. I’m not gonna hurt you. I might tell you some things that you don’t want to hear, and that might hurt you. But other than that, I’m harmless.” The Oracle lights a cigarette before continuing. “Ok, ok, you want to know how you can trust me. It’s a good question,” She half-heartedly throws up her hands. “But you don’t really want an answer. You want to know. And I can’t do that for you. Either you trust me or you don’t. You’re just that kind of girl.”
Trinity is sure that she should feel uncomfortable, but something about being in that apartment, the swish of the curtains, the cake under the glass in front of them, the slow distinctness of the Oracle’s voice makes her feel safe in a way she has rarely felt before. Safe the way she feels when she is relying just on herself.
“Morpheus believes in you,” Trinity says.
“Yes, well, Morpheus believes in many things. Morpheus believes you are the One.”
“I know I’m not the One,” Trinity says, and she is certain as she says this that it’s true, and that she had known all along.
“So do I,” the Oracle says, nodding her head.
Trinity waits for the disappointment to hit her. It seems very far away. She wonders if that’s because they are in the Matrix, or if it is the Oracle’s doing.
“What about Morpheus?” Trinity says.
The Oracle takes a long drag from her cigarette before answering. “Have you thought about why your first question is about Morpheus? Don’t you want to know why it seemed like you’re the One? Why Morpheus was so sure? You were taking a big risk even considering it, even letting yourself believe, because you know it could not come true.”
“And it isn’t true. I’m just not good enough.”
“You’re good enough, you’re just not the One.” The Oracle says. “I have to say, when I heard from Morpheus I had hoped it would be you.” And before Trinity can ask what that means, the Oracle says, “You don’t have to talk about your feelings in front of me, that’s ok. Just make sure you talk about them in front of yourself.” She pauses, then adds “Don’t worry about him. He’ll understand once you leave. Morpheus has been wrong before. He’ll manage.” Trinity hopes it’s as easy as the Oracle makes it sound. She thinks of asking her for a cigarette.
“Well, it’s time for me to get down to what it is I’m supposed to tell you. Here it is then. You will fall in love, and the man you love will be the One.”
This surprises Trinity so much that she stands up from the table without realizing. But the Oracle waves away her questions before Trinity can even ask them.
“I know, dear. I warned you I might say some things that you don’t want to hear.”
“Are you saying I’m going to have to choose someone else over Morpheus?”
The Oracle looked at her for a long moment. “You’ve had your share of choices. You’ve done a fine job with them. This one’s just gonna come true.” The Oracle stands up then. “Now go on,” she says. “I’ll see you again.”
But just before Trinity is out the apartment door the Oracle puts her hand on Trinity’s bare shoulder and the touch is searing. “He’ll need you, Trinity,” the Oracle says softly. “And you’ll never be able to let him down, no matter what. That’s my girl, now go on.”
The Oracle closes the door to the apartment behind her. As soon as Trinity sees Morpheus, she knows he somehow already knows the truth. Trinity wonders how long she can keep the rest of what the Oracle has told her a secret. She has a feeling it isn’t long at all.
No One Listens to House Music in the Nebuchadnezzar
She watches from the safety of the computer screen in the building across the street. Her fingers rest on the keys without typing and her shoulders and arms are completely still. She looks up and out the window, although she knows she can’t see him from this distance. She can see through the monitor; as though it were a two-way mirror and she were right there in his room, sitting on his desk. His face is half-buried in the pillow, his arms uncovered, his feet hanging off the end of the bed and the sheet untucked.
She likes watching him. There’s a certain pull to it, like a current, that goes beyond the normal searching and releasing they do. There’s something else about him, more even than just that Morpheus believes he is the One. Morpheus is almost certain - and though she does not share Morpheus’ certainty, she cannot help but to be drawn to the possibility, to believe in Neo.
Even if they hadn’t sent her, she would have volunteered to watch Neo anyway, a rare revelation of interest. Three weeks of mornings and nights, trailing him at work, the boringness of his cubicle, his fingers typing away at the code; mornings brushing his teeth, the wary look he gives himself in the mirror after washing his face; the care he gives the illegal hacking programs he sells, leaving his mark on them, as distinguishable as handwriting. Trinity gets to watch it all, and in exchange, she accepts the teasing from her crew.
Neo’s a good hacker but he lacks grace; he’s a rule-breaker and so he breaks hacker rules the same as any others. But Neo has been courting danger with his carelessness; he’s practically been shouting Morpheus’ name and doing little to cloak his endless searching. They are lucky, though, because they found him early and he has yet to draw too much attention to himself. Still, this isn’t going to be easy and that is why they’ve sent Trinity to watch over him. She knows that what made her a good hacker makes her a good rescuer. She is quiet, and Morpheus has taught her his tricks of invisibility. She’s so stealthy when she wants to be that even the operator can’t see her. Neo is sloppy when it suits him and he will always take the easier way rather than the more subtle. She’s surprised, still, that so many people thought her hacker reputation belonged to a guy; she’s always been more masterful than the guys, but, of course, they would never notice. Neo didn’t, when she led him to the club two nights ago. She thinks if the look on his face; she’d hacked into his computer, led him to the club, called him by his hacker name in public, and she was wearing a shirt with a collar so low it barely rose above her breasts, and what shocked Neo most was that she wasn’t a guy.
She wasn’t really supposed to meet him in person; no one had exactly told her not to, but there was an understanding that they took as few risks as possible. She had meant to stop at the hacking into his computer stage. He had looked corned but captivated as she explained why she had brought him there, and warned him that he was being watched. He tensed as she leaned to whisper in his ear, and she wonders if he was actually paying attention to what she was saying and if maybe flirting wasn’t the best choice of ways to impart information. What she remembers now is his stubble, and how he smelled like soap and stale clothing and heat, and how hard it was to walk way from him.
Neo stirs fitfully in his bed, and Trinity says, softly, “Shh, I’ve got you.”
Morpheus gives the word and they go in, to bring Neo to meet the man he has risked so much looking for. Trinity is a little disappointed that Neo has to be brought to Morpheus and couldn’t discover him on his own, but she knows time is short and everything has become complicated. It’s raining when they get there; it rains so often in the Matrix and Trinity has always wondered why. Neo is standing under the bridge where Morpheus directed him, and Trinity’s heart jumps into her throat. Switch and Apoc exchange looks.
“Shit, this is gonna be hard,” Trinity says.
“But he’s damn cute,” Switch says, and winks at Trinity, who is leaning over to open the door for Neo. For a moment he looks relieved to see that it’s her and then his face hardens back into apprehension as he climbs into the back seat.
She can hardly stop herself from crawling all over him because he is just so close after all of this time watching him from far away; but she is there to bring him to Morpheus and so everything else has to be pushed aside.
“Drive,” she says, and they take off.
Inside the old hotel, she walks Neo to the double-doored room and turns to leave him alone with Morpheus. Neo eyes with hunger and fear, and Trinity remembers that look. Neo is like a live wire and she wants to caution him to really listen to everything Morpheus tells him, but she trusts Morpheus with this now; she has done her part and Morpheus has to lead Neo to the next step. As she leaves the room and secures the door behind her, she hears Morpheus use the same flirty introduction he offered her. She knows then what Neo will do. She waits.
Trinity is surprised when Morpheus comes to her room the night Neo is freed.
“Hello,” Trinity says, her surprise plain on her face as she opens the door.
“You didn’t think I’d come to see you?” Morpheus says, amused.
“I thought you’d be with him.”
“I was. But he needs time alone.”
“He needs instruction. He’s stubborn, and his mind....”
“Trinity,” Morpheus cut her off. She rubs her eyes roughly with the back of her hand.
“He needs you,” she says.
“Yes, and he has me. And you.” Morpheus steps forward and takes her into his arms. He holds her tightly, and after a few moments, he says, his voice tight with restraint, “I wished you were the One. I had hoped....” He is quiet for a long time before he says, “I am glad we are here for him, because he will need the both of us.” She silently agrees.
He kisses her, gently at first, but then his mouth becomes demanding, hungry, and she realizes this is goodbye. This is the last time she’ll sleep with Morpheus, because he is taking the prophecy seriously and he is telling her now that he will not get in the way. She opens up to him, and tries not to feel crushed under the weight of what could have been.
You See, He’s Just a Man
She knows, somehow, what the Oracle has told Neo. She can feel the change in him, as if he has let go of a breath he had been holding for too long. She wonders if all the Oracle can tell someone is what they’re not. She wants to comfort him, but she doesn’t really know how, without at least telling him what the Oracle told her, that she’s just waiting for when she’s going to fall in love with him; but all of that seems to have changed now, because he isn’t the One. It had seemed so true she almost believed it all. Again.
He seems confused more than anything; but disappointment is what he seems to settle into. She knows he is thinking about how he’s going to tell Morpheus. That’s all that matters - Morpheus’ expectation lifting him up, Morpheus’ belief. She almost says to Neo, “He’s been wrong before.” But she will wait for Neo to tell Morpheus himself.
Neo clears his throat, and tells her about the boy in the waiting room as they drive back, the rest of the car silent.
“Do not try to bend the spoon. Only try to realize the truth. There is no spoon; it is only you who bends.” He gives her a half-smile, and it’s a look she remembers from watching him, all those times. She moves her hand just slightly on the seat so that it’s touching Neo’s leg.
The moment that she understands the Oracle’s trick is the moment she knows she’s in love with Neo. It’s in the real world, her feet heavy on the metal deck of the ship that’s her home, that she knows that Neo is the One. She knows the prophecy has come true.
She thinks she is going to have a talk with the Oracle very soon.
Trinity isn’t afraid anymore, thinks she may never be afraid again. Neo sits up, the EMP blast still shaking in the ship, and he is in her arms. Neo close to her feels like nothing she has ever felt before. It feels like faith.
They turn the corner in the hallway and he pushes her up against the wall, pinning her arms by her side and kissing her; this is good, she thinks, this is very, very good.
He is kissing her so intensely that she thinks they might have sex right there in the hallway, and she’s not sure she’ll object. She’d like to hear what they sound like groaning in the echoing hallway but she’d hate to send one of the crew members skittering off.
“Morpheus could walk down this hallway any minute,” she says, breaking away.
“We might ask him to join,” Neo says and nips at her neck.
“He would probably agree,” Trinity says, and they laugh but they both know that it is only half a joke; the thing that connects the three of them is larger than any one relationship and so nothing is really out of the realm of possibility.
“But you’re right, we should probably take this into our room.”
“And I was so excited about the wall,” Trinity says.
“There are walls in our room,” Neo answers.
We Do Only What We Are Meant To Do
Trinity used to work the morning shift when they were watching Neo. She liked to do things by herself, even though Neo already felt like a part of her. She resisted that change at first but things are different now. She spent so long relying on herself and now she has a savior to follow; she doesn’t need to be her own. Still, old habits are hard to break.
None of the others like to go in early, day break now a concept that exclusively the Matrix since the sun beyond their reach, but Trinity remembers liking 6 am. She remembers going for a run before anyone in her neighborhood was awake, through the wet streets and the leaves and the gray clouds high above.
The ship’s hum is so constant that it’s almost like silence. Her boots thunk loudly as she walks up behind Link at the operator seat, typing away, his left hand reaching up to change the screen, then changing back to the original.
“Morning, Trinity,” he says, without having to turn and see her.
“Hey, Link,” she says, coming to stand next to him and checking out the screen from over his shoulder. “Is there a clear broadcasting signal?”
“Working on it for you. Though it looks pretty quiet this morning.”
“Good.” She rubs absently at her shoulder, digging her fingers into the muscle. She isn’t sure if she pulled it hauling cable yesterday or if it’s an old injury reappearing. She’s glad she won’t feel it at all in the Matrix. A sore shoulder is enough to slow her down and it could get her killed.
“Ok, have a seat,” Link says, and he pulls up her display. “I’m dropping you right outside of a bakery. Have a donut for me.” Link pats the back of her chair twice and then she’s jacked in, watching her reflection curve in the window of a passing car. She turns around and behind her is the bakery, the smell of fresh bread strong and sweet.
“Sorry about the donut, Link,” she says, her cell phone pressed to her ear. “Where am I going?”
“Corner of Willow and Summer.”
“Got it.”
There isn’t always the urgency she thrives on, there aren’t always Agents. There is waiting. There is always waiting. She thinks she could court danger today, tell Morpheus that she’s staying in for a double shift. To be by herself for just a little while more. But Morpheus would hear it in her voice in the phone call; he knows her too well and he’ll know why she’s staying. There are no secrets, hide as she might.
There’s an exit two blocks from here, but Trinity hates to walk. If she can fly in this world, then she will fly. On her motorcycle, she imagines that the quiet side streets she zooms by are filled with quiet houses and plants growing beyond the limits of the yard. Phlox, yarrow - she used to know the names of so many more things. Apple tress blooming and the air heavy with their fallen petals, brick and cobblestone walkways. She speeds up, tires like wings, sunglasses instead of eyes.
Author's Notes
Fandom: The Matrix
Pairing: Trinity/Morpheus, Trinity/Neo
Timeline: Sometime before (or within the first twenty minutes of) Reloaded
Disclaimer: If they were mine, there wouldn't be any wooden dialog, and Trinity would save the world all by herself without anyone having to die.
Author's Note: Thanks to phineasjones for beta.
Summary: The Oracle told Morpheus that he would find the One. He thought he'd found her when he found Trinity. And then they both found Neo.
They’re Only Dreams
Trinity has always been cold. She used to think that it was something that would be explained when she was freed from the Matrix, one of the clues that reality wasn’t what she thought. She could say to people, “I was always cold, and that’s how I knew it wasn’t real.” But she’s cold in the Nebuchadnezzar. She’s cold in Zion. It’s just how she is. There is no explanation.
She notices the cold now, and tucks her hands into the sleeves of her shirt. She sits crouched on the bed, her knees bent and pulled to her chest. She closes her eyes and feels the humming of the ship under her, through her heels and her back. She stays that way, listening with her eyes closed, until she hears Neo coming down the hall. He pauses in front of the door but she can feel him there, picture his hand raising to knock; it sounds hollow against the steel.
“Trin?” he whispers, hesitant because it’s late and he probably thinks she is asleep.
“Yeah,” she says, more loudly than she means to, her voice echoing in the quiet room. She softens her pose as he comes in, folding her legs under her, sitting forward and smiling. Neo rubs a hand over his coarse hair and smiles back.
“Did you just get out?” she asks. He sits down next to her on the bed, and she leans toward him.
“It’s still weird seeing places I used to go to. I saw this restaurant I wanted to take you to. I forgot for a minute that it’s not real.”
“We could still go,” she offers. He shrugs.
“Are you assigned for the morning?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’ll try not to wake you.” She lies down, pulling Neo toward her so that his head is resting on her shoulder.
Neo hasn’t been sleeping fitfully and Trinity can’t bear to ask him why his dreams are troubling him. She knows that’s what’s keeping him up, because he always wakes with a sharp intake of breath. All she can do is let him know she’s there, and honestly, she understands; if they were her dreams, she wouldn’t say a thing either.
She listens to Neo breathing and she thinks maybe now is the time to tell him about everything that came before him, about her and Morpheus, about how they had all thought she was the One. She thinks sometimes that maybe somehow Neo already knows.
“I love you,” she says, taking one of his hands, bringing it to her lips and kissing it.
“I love you, too, Trin,” he says, and she watches him until he falls asleep, and then she does, too.
There Is No Spoon
She isn’t sure what made her go out tonight, but as soon as she stepped out of her apartment she felt restless and predatory. She doesn’t go to clubs often. She loves the loud music that can drive her mind to the stillness she aches for, the crowd that lets her stay anonymous, but often it’s easier just to stay home. To spend hours staring at the screen, her eyes unblinking, searching. If Morpheus was out there, she would find him. But tonight she was ready for another kind of search.
High-heeled boots, a shiny leather shirt, bare arms. Her hair is slicked back and her lips are pursed as she moves over the dance floor without dancing. She doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes. She’s looking at the hands of the women in the crowd, waiting for short fingernails, thin fingers. She finds something she likes, follows the hands up to the arms, draped with some gauzy material, to the collarbone, bare, to the neck, ivory, to the face. The girl sees her and smiles, and to Trinity’s delight, blushes slightly.
They dance, but the girl has friends who come to pull her away. The girl looks over her shoulder as she’s being dragged off, and Trinity lets her go. She has never had to leave alone; there is always some girl wanting to be found and played with. Although sometimes they are too willing to erase themselves in the moment and it’s too much for Trinity to take. Those times she remembers why she spends so much time alone.
The girl reappears soon after, at one of the tables with the same friends. Trinity decides to try again, and when she approaches, the friends scatter, and the girl licks her lips as she looks up to meet Trinity’s eyes.
“Smart friends,” Trinity says, as she takes a seat across from the girl.
“I hoped you’d find me,” she says.
Trinity places a hand on the girl’s knee, splays her fingers, and then leans forward across her own thighs. The girl is too far away but Trinity reaches for her anyway, moving her hand slowly up the girl’s leg, her head tilted to look up. It seems as though Trinity is the submissive one, her whole body lowered, but she’s waiting for the girl to give in, and she does, squeezing her eyes shut as Trinity’s fingers brush her hipbone. The girl nods and when Trinity stands, the girl follows her.
Trinity doesn’t have to ask; the girl gives her address to the taxi driver. Trinity pays, and then the girl is unlocking the door to her apartment and Trinity is pressing her up against the door the second it’s closed.
“I’d hoped you were impatient,” the girl says, and Trinity licks the line of her jaw.
“Be careful. I might just make you wait.” The girl whines, either at the words or because Trinity follows them by slipping her hands under the girl’s shirt. “So, do you have a bedroom?” Trinity asks, and the girl, her eyes shut tight, nods.
When the girl is asleep, Trinity rises from the bed and dresses, and then taps the keypad of the girl’s laptop to wake it up. She does this, sometimes, uses the girls’ computers to look for him. She figures it doesn’t matter where she is when she finds him; a computer is a computer and she certainly isn’t going to sleep.
“Soon,” she says. “Soon.”
Trinity pushes her chair back from her desk and goes to close the shades. It’s been a week now since she’s found anything new; she’s almost lost any trace of Morpheus, and it was just when she thought she had been getting close. She checks her search program again; nothing. More reason to go out again tonight.
Her computer clicks to a black screen just as she is zipping up her jacket. Her hands hover over the keys, and then her name appears, letter by letter, in green text.
More text follows. “You have found me.” Her heart explodes with beating.
“Morpheus? Where are you?” she says aloud.
Her phone rings. She jumps. “Hello?”
“Come to the club. But don’t go inside.” He hangs up, and Trinity barely has her shoes on when she runs out the door.
There’s a line at the club and the bouncer is checking the names on his clipboard. As she walks by, the bouncer shouts out to her, “I’ll let you in.” She holds backs a smirk. Others in the line grumble.
“I might come back,” she says, and the bouncer smiles.
“You looking for somebody?” he asks.
“No,” she says, and continues walking around the building.
Morpheus is standing in the doorway, all but invisible, and he does not look as if anything about Trinity surprises him.
“Trinity,” he says. “It’s so good to meet you.” As he steps out of the shadow of the doorway and grins at her, Trinity feels suddenly as if she can’t possibly stand close enough to him. “Come with me,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder and she leans into his arm. She understands then that everything she has ever known is going to change.
Love Like a Blow to the Head
As they load the tenth training program of the day, Trinity and Morpheus walk against an oncoming tide of people filling up the blank white space of a city street; they are going the wrong way during morning rush hour. Morpheus moves smoothly, not even shifting from his path, as though there were no people at all. Trinity is hit over and over by frowning men in suits, their shoulders smashing into her chest.
Morpheus is lecturing, low and resounding, but Trinity is having a hard time listening at this point. They’ve been at this for hours and days before that and she can already recognize Morpheus’ practiced speeches, can sense his comfort in the well-rehearsed.
“The Matrix is a system. That system is our enemy.” She hopes he gets to the point soon, because this is bullshit. She is strong and Morpheus is mocking her and suddenly the din of the crowd softens as a gorgeous woman in a red dress walks by, everyone else fading to grayscale. Trinity stops and watches her walk by; she’s stunning and fanciful and a little too showy - a man’s woman, voluptuous and enticing, but still, hard to turn away from.
Morpheus stops, too, and says, “Trinity?” She looks up at Morpheus, who asks “Were you watching the woman in the red dress?” as though he can hardly believe it.
Trinity grins, and then faster than she thought she could move, spins around and raises her gun to the forehead of an Agent, now standing just where the woman in the red dress had been.
“Operator, freeze it,” Morpheus says, his voice empty. Trinity hesitantly drops her weapon to her side and turns back to Morpheus. She realizes that this must be part of the training; the obvious yet irresistible decoy of the woman teaching the lesson that Agents could be anyone, anywhere.
“How did you do that?” Morpheus is staring at her. His calm is edged with incredulity.
“I could tell - I saw - something was wrong,” she says, unable to really explain how she knew.
“You’ve seen Agents before.”
Trinity thinks about it. “Yes, I guess so.”
“They must have been watching you.”
“Like you were.”
“Yes.”
She knows she has passed a test; she also knows that there is something Morpheus isn’t telling her as he turns his back to her and asks the operator to close the program. She thinks she sees his shoulders drop as if a great weight had just been lifted from them.
She knocks on his door loudly. She knows Morphus is alone; he is almost always alone. “Come in,” he says. His voice fills the air like a gong.
“It's Trinity,” she says, and closes the door heavily behind her. Morpheus is sitting on his
bed, his feet up, and his smile broadens slowly as he looks up at her.
“You did good work today,” he says, and she has a feeling it's a rare compliment.
She comes to sit next to him; it's what she means to do at least, to say something about training, or the hollow sounds of the ship, or how he still isn't answering most of her questions. Instead, she finds herself leaning closer and closer and Morpheus, in tandem, is leaning away from her until he is on his back and she is hovering over him, her hands on either side of his shoulders.
“Trinity,” he says, warningly, but softly.
But she closes her eyes and breathes in and says, “I love your voice,” and she feels him give in. “You're such a flirt when we're training. So confident, so powerful. But I can touch you here.” Trinity leans closer so that their torsos are pressed together and her thighs squeeze the outside of Morpheus’ hips.
"Yes," Morpheus says, and his chest rumbles. "We can touch in the real world. Isn't that amazing?" Morpheus raises a hand to touch her face, his thumb rubbing over her jaw.
"Yes, it is amazing," Trinity says, and kisses him. Morpheus makes a sound like a moan, only deeper - everything about Morpheus seems deeper - and runs both his hands, palms open wide, up and down her back.
Know Thyself
“I believe you are the One, Trinity,” Morpheus says to her as they stand alone watching the operator screens, green code sliding by like rivulets of water.
“I don’t know if I am,” she tells him. “I don’t know if I believe.”
“Tomorrow we will see the Oracle,” he responds. “And we will know the truth.”
She doesn’t sleep at all that night, and though she wants to seek out Morpheus, to feel his arms strong around her, she thinks it’s best to be by herself. She tries to recall everything Morpheus has told her, all of the things she could do that no one else could. Morpheus’ belief is so strong, it’s almost enough for both of them. She has tried since Morpheus had first explained the prophecy to understand that she might be a savior, that she has that kind of power. She is glad they will have the answers soon, so she can go on trying to accept whoever it is she is supposed to be.
Morpheus waits in the hallway as Trinity is ushered into the Oracle’s apartment. She wants to squeeze his hand or ask him for some last bit of advice, but she is glad they are in the Matrix where they are both cool and contained and wearing their intensely stoic expressions. The woman who walks her in is dressed in flowing robes and her face is soft and gentle. Trinity feels especially harsh standing out. She wonders if this is how it’s supposed to feel.
The Oracle’s apartment is empty. The cushions on the couch are askew, and there is a pile of children’s wooden alphabet blocks on the floor and several empty glasses on the coffee table. It looks as though there has recently been a crowd of people filling the living room, and now they’ve gone. Trinity wonders if she’s late.
“You can go in now,” the woman tells her, gesturing for Trinity to go through the kitchen door.
Trinity passes through the beaded curtain and is suddenly glad she is here alone, without the crowd of the living room, without Morpheus.
“Hello,” Trinity says to the Oracle, who is standing with a hand on her hip and leaning against the counter.
“You’ve come a long way to get here. Longer than most,” the Oracle says, sizing her up and then taking a seat at the table.
“I’m not sure what that means,” Trinity says, also sitting down.
“Oh, you don’t have to be so cautious with me. I’m not gonna hurt you. I might tell you some things that you don’t want to hear, and that might hurt you. But other than that, I’m harmless.” The Oracle lights a cigarette before continuing. “Ok, ok, you want to know how you can trust me. It’s a good question,” She half-heartedly throws up her hands. “But you don’t really want an answer. You want to know. And I can’t do that for you. Either you trust me or you don’t. You’re just that kind of girl.”
Trinity is sure that she should feel uncomfortable, but something about being in that apartment, the swish of the curtains, the cake under the glass in front of them, the slow distinctness of the Oracle’s voice makes her feel safe in a way she has rarely felt before. Safe the way she feels when she is relying just on herself.
“Morpheus believes in you,” Trinity says.
“Yes, well, Morpheus believes in many things. Morpheus believes you are the One.”
“I know I’m not the One,” Trinity says, and she is certain as she says this that it’s true, and that she had known all along.
“So do I,” the Oracle says, nodding her head.
Trinity waits for the disappointment to hit her. It seems very far away. She wonders if that’s because they are in the Matrix, or if it is the Oracle’s doing.
“What about Morpheus?” Trinity says.
The Oracle takes a long drag from her cigarette before answering. “Have you thought about why your first question is about Morpheus? Don’t you want to know why it seemed like you’re the One? Why Morpheus was so sure? You were taking a big risk even considering it, even letting yourself believe, because you know it could not come true.”
“And it isn’t true. I’m just not good enough.”
“You’re good enough, you’re just not the One.” The Oracle says. “I have to say, when I heard from Morpheus I had hoped it would be you.” And before Trinity can ask what that means, the Oracle says, “You don’t have to talk about your feelings in front of me, that’s ok. Just make sure you talk about them in front of yourself.” She pauses, then adds “Don’t worry about him. He’ll understand once you leave. Morpheus has been wrong before. He’ll manage.” Trinity hopes it’s as easy as the Oracle makes it sound. She thinks of asking her for a cigarette.
“Well, it’s time for me to get down to what it is I’m supposed to tell you. Here it is then. You will fall in love, and the man you love will be the One.”
This surprises Trinity so much that she stands up from the table without realizing. But the Oracle waves away her questions before Trinity can even ask them.
“I know, dear. I warned you I might say some things that you don’t want to hear.”
“Are you saying I’m going to have to choose someone else over Morpheus?”
The Oracle looked at her for a long moment. “You’ve had your share of choices. You’ve done a fine job with them. This one’s just gonna come true.” The Oracle stands up then. “Now go on,” she says. “I’ll see you again.”
But just before Trinity is out the apartment door the Oracle puts her hand on Trinity’s bare shoulder and the touch is searing. “He’ll need you, Trinity,” the Oracle says softly. “And you’ll never be able to let him down, no matter what. That’s my girl, now go on.”
The Oracle closes the door to the apartment behind her. As soon as Trinity sees Morpheus, she knows he somehow already knows the truth. Trinity wonders how long she can keep the rest of what the Oracle has told her a secret. She has a feeling it isn’t long at all.
No One Listens to House Music in the Nebuchadnezzar
She watches from the safety of the computer screen in the building across the street. Her fingers rest on the keys without typing and her shoulders and arms are completely still. She looks up and out the window, although she knows she can’t see him from this distance. She can see through the monitor; as though it were a two-way mirror and she were right there in his room, sitting on his desk. His face is half-buried in the pillow, his arms uncovered, his feet hanging off the end of the bed and the sheet untucked.
She likes watching him. There’s a certain pull to it, like a current, that goes beyond the normal searching and releasing they do. There’s something else about him, more even than just that Morpheus believes he is the One. Morpheus is almost certain - and though she does not share Morpheus’ certainty, she cannot help but to be drawn to the possibility, to believe in Neo.
Even if they hadn’t sent her, she would have volunteered to watch Neo anyway, a rare revelation of interest. Three weeks of mornings and nights, trailing him at work, the boringness of his cubicle, his fingers typing away at the code; mornings brushing his teeth, the wary look he gives himself in the mirror after washing his face; the care he gives the illegal hacking programs he sells, leaving his mark on them, as distinguishable as handwriting. Trinity gets to watch it all, and in exchange, she accepts the teasing from her crew.
Neo’s a good hacker but he lacks grace; he’s a rule-breaker and so he breaks hacker rules the same as any others. But Neo has been courting danger with his carelessness; he’s practically been shouting Morpheus’ name and doing little to cloak his endless searching. They are lucky, though, because they found him early and he has yet to draw too much attention to himself. Still, this isn’t going to be easy and that is why they’ve sent Trinity to watch over him. She knows that what made her a good hacker makes her a good rescuer. She is quiet, and Morpheus has taught her his tricks of invisibility. She’s so stealthy when she wants to be that even the operator can’t see her. Neo is sloppy when it suits him and he will always take the easier way rather than the more subtle. She’s surprised, still, that so many people thought her hacker reputation belonged to a guy; she’s always been more masterful than the guys, but, of course, they would never notice. Neo didn’t, when she led him to the club two nights ago. She thinks if the look on his face; she’d hacked into his computer, led him to the club, called him by his hacker name in public, and she was wearing a shirt with a collar so low it barely rose above her breasts, and what shocked Neo most was that she wasn’t a guy.
She wasn’t really supposed to meet him in person; no one had exactly told her not to, but there was an understanding that they took as few risks as possible. She had meant to stop at the hacking into his computer stage. He had looked corned but captivated as she explained why she had brought him there, and warned him that he was being watched. He tensed as she leaned to whisper in his ear, and she wonders if he was actually paying attention to what she was saying and if maybe flirting wasn’t the best choice of ways to impart information. What she remembers now is his stubble, and how he smelled like soap and stale clothing and heat, and how hard it was to walk way from him.
Neo stirs fitfully in his bed, and Trinity says, softly, “Shh, I’ve got you.”
Morpheus gives the word and they go in, to bring Neo to meet the man he has risked so much looking for. Trinity is a little disappointed that Neo has to be brought to Morpheus and couldn’t discover him on his own, but she knows time is short and everything has become complicated. It’s raining when they get there; it rains so often in the Matrix and Trinity has always wondered why. Neo is standing under the bridge where Morpheus directed him, and Trinity’s heart jumps into her throat. Switch and Apoc exchange looks.
“Shit, this is gonna be hard,” Trinity says.
“But he’s damn cute,” Switch says, and winks at Trinity, who is leaning over to open the door for Neo. For a moment he looks relieved to see that it’s her and then his face hardens back into apprehension as he climbs into the back seat.
She can hardly stop herself from crawling all over him because he is just so close after all of this time watching him from far away; but she is there to bring him to Morpheus and so everything else has to be pushed aside.
“Drive,” she says, and they take off.
Inside the old hotel, she walks Neo to the double-doored room and turns to leave him alone with Morpheus. Neo eyes with hunger and fear, and Trinity remembers that look. Neo is like a live wire and she wants to caution him to really listen to everything Morpheus tells him, but she trusts Morpheus with this now; she has done her part and Morpheus has to lead Neo to the next step. As she leaves the room and secures the door behind her, she hears Morpheus use the same flirty introduction he offered her. She knows then what Neo will do. She waits.
Trinity is surprised when Morpheus comes to her room the night Neo is freed.
“Hello,” Trinity says, her surprise plain on her face as she opens the door.
“You didn’t think I’d come to see you?” Morpheus says, amused.
“I thought you’d be with him.”
“I was. But he needs time alone.”
“He needs instruction. He’s stubborn, and his mind....”
“Trinity,” Morpheus cut her off. She rubs her eyes roughly with the back of her hand.
“He needs you,” she says.
“Yes, and he has me. And you.” Morpheus steps forward and takes her into his arms. He holds her tightly, and after a few moments, he says, his voice tight with restraint, “I wished you were the One. I had hoped....” He is quiet for a long time before he says, “I am glad we are here for him, because he will need the both of us.” She silently agrees.
He kisses her, gently at first, but then his mouth becomes demanding, hungry, and she realizes this is goodbye. This is the last time she’ll sleep with Morpheus, because he is taking the prophecy seriously and he is telling her now that he will not get in the way. She opens up to him, and tries not to feel crushed under the weight of what could have been.
You See, He’s Just a Man
She knows, somehow, what the Oracle has told Neo. She can feel the change in him, as if he has let go of a breath he had been holding for too long. She wonders if all the Oracle can tell someone is what they’re not. She wants to comfort him, but she doesn’t really know how, without at least telling him what the Oracle told her, that she’s just waiting for when she’s going to fall in love with him; but all of that seems to have changed now, because he isn’t the One. It had seemed so true she almost believed it all. Again.
He seems confused more than anything; but disappointment is what he seems to settle into. She knows he is thinking about how he’s going to tell Morpheus. That’s all that matters - Morpheus’ expectation lifting him up, Morpheus’ belief. She almost says to Neo, “He’s been wrong before.” But she will wait for Neo to tell Morpheus himself.
Neo clears his throat, and tells her about the boy in the waiting room as they drive back, the rest of the car silent.
“Do not try to bend the spoon. Only try to realize the truth. There is no spoon; it is only you who bends.” He gives her a half-smile, and it’s a look she remembers from watching him, all those times. She moves her hand just slightly on the seat so that it’s touching Neo’s leg.
The moment that she understands the Oracle’s trick is the moment she knows she’s in love with Neo. It’s in the real world, her feet heavy on the metal deck of the ship that’s her home, that she knows that Neo is the One. She knows the prophecy has come true.
She thinks she is going to have a talk with the Oracle very soon.
Trinity isn’t afraid anymore, thinks she may never be afraid again. Neo sits up, the EMP blast still shaking in the ship, and he is in her arms. Neo close to her feels like nothing she has ever felt before. It feels like faith.
They turn the corner in the hallway and he pushes her up against the wall, pinning her arms by her side and kissing her; this is good, she thinks, this is very, very good.
He is kissing her so intensely that she thinks they might have sex right there in the hallway, and she’s not sure she’ll object. She’d like to hear what they sound like groaning in the echoing hallway but she’d hate to send one of the crew members skittering off.
“Morpheus could walk down this hallway any minute,” she says, breaking away.
“We might ask him to join,” Neo says and nips at her neck.
“He would probably agree,” Trinity says, and they laugh but they both know that it is only half a joke; the thing that connects the three of them is larger than any one relationship and so nothing is really out of the realm of possibility.
“But you’re right, we should probably take this into our room.”
“And I was so excited about the wall,” Trinity says.
“There are walls in our room,” Neo answers.
We Do Only What We Are Meant To Do
Trinity used to work the morning shift when they were watching Neo. She liked to do things by herself, even though Neo already felt like a part of her. She resisted that change at first but things are different now. She spent so long relying on herself and now she has a savior to follow; she doesn’t need to be her own. Still, old habits are hard to break.
None of the others like to go in early, day break now a concept that exclusively the Matrix since the sun beyond their reach, but Trinity remembers liking 6 am. She remembers going for a run before anyone in her neighborhood was awake, through the wet streets and the leaves and the gray clouds high above.
The ship’s hum is so constant that it’s almost like silence. Her boots thunk loudly as she walks up behind Link at the operator seat, typing away, his left hand reaching up to change the screen, then changing back to the original.
“Morning, Trinity,” he says, without having to turn and see her.
“Hey, Link,” she says, coming to stand next to him and checking out the screen from over his shoulder. “Is there a clear broadcasting signal?”
“Working on it for you. Though it looks pretty quiet this morning.”
“Good.” She rubs absently at her shoulder, digging her fingers into the muscle. She isn’t sure if she pulled it hauling cable yesterday or if it’s an old injury reappearing. She’s glad she won’t feel it at all in the Matrix. A sore shoulder is enough to slow her down and it could get her killed.
“Ok, have a seat,” Link says, and he pulls up her display. “I’m dropping you right outside of a bakery. Have a donut for me.” Link pats the back of her chair twice and then she’s jacked in, watching her reflection curve in the window of a passing car. She turns around and behind her is the bakery, the smell of fresh bread strong and sweet.
“Sorry about the donut, Link,” she says, her cell phone pressed to her ear. “Where am I going?”
“Corner of Willow and Summer.”
“Got it.”
There isn’t always the urgency she thrives on, there aren’t always Agents. There is waiting. There is always waiting. She thinks she could court danger today, tell Morpheus that she’s staying in for a double shift. To be by herself for just a little while more. But Morpheus would hear it in her voice in the phone call; he knows her too well and he’ll know why she’s staying. There are no secrets, hide as she might.
There’s an exit two blocks from here, but Trinity hates to walk. If she can fly in this world, then she will fly. On her motorcycle, she imagines that the quiet side streets she zooms by are filled with quiet houses and plants growing beyond the limits of the yard. Phlox, yarrow - she used to know the names of so many more things. Apple tress blooming and the air heavy with their fallen petals, brick and cobblestone walkways. She speeds up, tires like wings, sunglasses instead of eyes.
Author's Notes