TITLE: Basis

AUTHOR: TLynn

RATING: R

SUMMARY: Neo and Trinity come to terms with their love as 
only they know how.

SPOILERS: 'The Matrix'. This is set immediately after the 
film.

CATEGORIES: Drama/Angst

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I can't even imagine what must have been 
going through their heads after the first movie. Oh, wait – 
yes, I can. Here's my version.

DISCLAIMER: Ghost, Trinity, Neo and the world of "The 
Matrix" belong to The Wachowski brothers and the actors who 
portray them, not me.

THANKS: Thanks are threefold this time around. To Spin for 
her continuously detailed and encouraging beta, to 
Danascully for previewing and saying that my writing is 
"gorgeous", and to Tamsin, for alleviating my doubts 
countless times.

* * *

It was she who pulled away first. Unable to break from his 
gaze, she could see the unrest within him, the questions 
that still needed answers. She could see him wrestling with 
his logic, coming to terms with pseudo-immortality and 
extemporaneous love. She knew he wanted to kiss her again. 
He couldn't explain it yet, she knew, but he wanted nothing 
more than her mouth upon his.

"Are you two okay?"

They both turned to see Morpheus had quietly joined them. 
His body slouched slightly and his face sagged with 
exhaustion, and while his eyes, alive with ultimate 
confirmation, betrayed much of that exterior of defeat. His 
grief was apparent. Just beyond him was Tank, his pain, 
both physical and emotional, also obvious, but his concern 
for Neo even more so. Each of them were the devoted 
followers of a reluctant hero, forgoing their own anguish 
until his well-being was confirmed.

She was thrown by how angry it made her.

"We're fine," she said abruptly, standing up straight and 
smoothing her hair, eyes wandering.

Neo sat upright and nodded his agreement, looking quickly 
to his captain and then back to Trinity. She looked back 
and forth around the ship, surveying the damage, lingering 
on the bodies of Switch, Apoc, and Mouse, then back to 
Morpheus. She wouldn't look at Cypher. She wouldn't look at 
Neo.

"I've activated the distress signal," Morpheus said. "With 
any luck, we'll be out of here within a few days." 

Trinity nodded and stepped away from Neo, once again 
scanning their surroundings, keeping her eyes anywhere but 
on him. He moved to sit up, but a deep, aching pain flared 
through his torso at the movement and he fell back gently 
against the chair. Trinity didn't see it, but Morpheus did.

"Are you sure you're alright, Neo?" Morpheus asked.

"I'm fine," Neo said. "It just hurts a little."

Trinity regarded him with concerned eyes, but made no move 
toward him. Her gaze then shifted back over to the bodies 
sitting nearby, each looking peacefully plugged in. They 
all stared in silence for several long minutes.

"We should take them out of the chairs," she finally said.

"I agree," Morpheus said. "Tank, I want you in the med bay. 
Neo, you, too. Trinity and I will take care of this."

"But, sir," Tank said in protest.

"I know," Morpheus said. "But you're hurt. Go."

Tank nodded and turned to leave. Neo gingerly rose to his 
feet and tested his balance while holding onto the chair.

"Morpheus, I really am fine," he said. "I can help."

"Go," Trinity said, her voice soft. "It's okay."

He turned his head over to her, but she still wouldn't look 
at him. Resigned, he followed after Tank and left them 
alone with their fallen shipmates.

* * *

Trinity stood and stared at herself in the mirror for a 
very long time. It was quiet, almost too quiet, and it 
unnerved her. She wanted to vomit. The silence, once 
coveted on the active ship, now just signified all that had 
been lost.

It was the sound of her door opening that signified all 
that had been gained.

She left the confines of the small lavatory and stepped out 
into the only slightly larger confines of her quarters. 
There Neo stood, one hand still on the open door and a lost 
look on his face. The duality of her emotions once again 
surprised her as they presented themselves for display, 
each begging for the chance to surpass the other.

"Don't you knock?" she asked.

And the winner was hostility, edging out benevolence by 
more than a nose.

His face fell at her words, but he made no move to leave. 
Instead, he stepped to her bed and sat down. He looked up 
as if to ask if it was okay that he was sitting there and 
after receiving nothing but an arched eyebrow from her, 
relaxed his shoulders and let out a slow breath.

"Don't you think we need to talk?" he asked.

She regarded him thoughtfully as he sat before her, back 
hunched and elbows resting on his knees. He looked 
incredibly young and innocent suddenly, his eyes searching 
hers for answers she didn't have. He needed her now. He 
craved her. The desire for even a simple touch was 
overwhelming and his body visibly trembled. She would have 
thought him weak, a liability none of them had time for 
even if he was The One, had she not been reacting in the 
exact same manner.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone soft, but still 
insistent.

"I don't know," she said, sitting down at the opposite end 
of the bed. "I just..."

She shook her head as her words trailed off, unsure of what 
it is she really wanted to say. He looked so eager, ready 
for whatever wisdom she may have to share; whether it was 
about on the current situation or the finer points of air 
vent maintenance didn't matter. She reached her hand across 
the bed and he met it with his own earnestly until their 
fingers intertwined. The warmth of his skin slowly seeped 
into the chill of hers.

"I need you to talk to me," he said. "Please don't shut me 
out right now."

"I'm not," she said, squeezing his hand lightly. "I 
promise. I just need some time. Can we talk in the 
morning?"

Her eyes pleaded for understanding. Can't you see, Neo? 
Can't you see how hard this is for me?

He brought her hand up and lightly brushed his lips across 
her knuckles, his warm breath sending chills throughout her 
body. He released her hand gently and stood up, his lean 
form towering above her now.

"I'll see you in the morning then," he said.

"Neo," she said, just as he moved into the hallway and was 
reaching to shut the door behind him.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"I will be," he said quietly. "In the morning."

* * *

It wasn't morning yet, but he couldn't sleep. Every time he 
closed his eyes, he saw her face hovering above him, 
looking at him as if for the very first time. He remembered 
the first time he saw her and wondered if he looked that 
scared, too. Probably, he decided. She simultaneously 
excited and scared the hell out of him that night.

"The answer is out there, Neo. It's looking for you. And it 
will find you, if you want it to," she had said.

She was cryptic and mysterious, wielding her power with her 
close proximity. She invaded his personal space not only 
with her body, but her words, and he knew that she alone 
would have had the ability to lead him wherever she wanted, 
whether Morpheus was waiting or not.  

He walked down the hallway, second-guessing each step he 
made towards her door. He didn't want to overstep any 
boundaries. Again. He didn't want to push her. And he 
mostly didn't want to piss her off. When he reached her 
door he knocked this time. She didn't answer and he knew he 
should have just gone back to bed, but he closed his eyes 
and there she was again, her image curving against the 
insides of his eyelids and making his pulse race. He 
knocked again and when she didn't answer, dared to open the 
door.

Her bed was empty.

His heart pounded in his chest as his mind jumped to 
foolish conclusions. He still needed visual confirmation, 
however, and stepped quickly out of the room in search of 
her. It was just outside the mess hall that he stopped 
short, a random memory popping into his head.

It was late that night, too, and sleep refused to descend 
upon him. It seemed not everything changed once you were 
freed from the Matrix. He had grown thirsty and was coming 
up on the mess when Tank nearly bowled him over running out 
into the hall.

"Sorry, Neo!" he said, shouting the apology back over his 
shoulder as he continued on.

Dozer flashed by next, and what he thought was Mouse, 
followed by Apoc. Cypher and Switch rounded the corner 
next, their pace far more leisurely.

"Hey, Dorothy," Cypher said. "Come to join the party?"

"What?"

"C'mon," Switch said. "Newbies get a five second 
allowance."

"Allowance for what?" he asked.

"So you don't get your ass kicked," Trinity said, appearing 
silently in the hallway with them. "Although, something 
tells me you wouldn't need it."

"Are you talking about another training simulation?" he 
asked.

"Something like that," she said, smiling.

"Are you coming, Trin?" Cypher asked, he and Switch moving 
on.

"I'll be right there," she said, her eyes still focused on 
Neo.

"I didn't think anyone else would be awake," he said.

"Insomnia is contagious on this ship," she said.

"What were they talking about?"

"It's a program we use to build up our combat skills. It's 
pretty brutal, though. Mouse wrote it, so it's not exactly 
standard issue training. Apoc's gotten the idea that he can 
make it through before Switch." 

"Can he?"

"I doubt it," she said, clearly amused. "Want to watch?"

"No," he said. "But thank you. I'm going to go back to bed, 
I think."

"Okay," she said. "Sleep well. But if you ever can't sleep 
again, check the core. We'll probably be there and you're 
always welcome to join us."

"Thanks," he said.

She smiled and placed a gentle hand on his arm, allowing it 
to linger slightly longer than necessary. He was about to 
open his mouth to say something else when her hand slipped 
off and she quickly marched off to join the rest of them, 
leaving him alone once again.

Check the core, she had said that night. He could still 
hear her voice. Now, he turned around and headed for the 
core.

* * *

Trinity had been staring at the wrapped carrions for so 
long her eyes were beginning to blur. Even if she hadn't 
helped wrap Mouse's body, she would know it was settled on 
the far left end, his size even more apparent in death. He 
looked so small. Next to him was Apoc and next to him, 
Dozer. Cypher, his shroud wrapped appreciably tighter than 
the others, was sandwiched between Dozer and Switch, the 
last of the lifeless line-up.

"Hey," he said, entering the core, each step tentative.

She looked over from her seat in Tank's chair, blinking 
rapidly until his image was clear before her. His face was 
a mask of concern, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. His 
hands clenched into loose fists then hung loose again, over 
and over.

"She didn't believe," she said.

"What?"

"Switch," she said, nodding over to her remains. "She 
didn't think you were The One."

"Oh."

"But she fought as if she did," she continued, her eyes 
staring at nothing, but clearly seeing something. "For me. 
Because I asked her to. Because of what I believed."

He moved silently until he was next to her. He lifted one 
hand to rest on her shoulder, but quickly changed his mind 
and rested it on the seatback instead. He could feel the 
warmth of her body against his forearm and he shivered 
slightly.

"They didn't deserve to die," she said. "They didn't 
deserve to be betrayed."

"I know," he said quietly. "If I could have done something—
"

"Stop," she said, standing up to face him now. "I know."

He watched her as she began to slowly pace back and forth 
before him, hands on her hips and face to the ground. Her 
body shook wildly.

"It's not your fault either," he said softly.

She stopped suddenly, looking at him, meeting his eyes 
carefully. Her breath hitched when she saw the depth of 
them and all that they carried. Her world had always been 
cold and lonely, sparsely punctuated with moments of 
warmth, and she had always lived the life of a soldier 
searching for an end to war. In his eyes she saw a freedom 
she had never fathomed. She saw hope, not just for the 
future of Zion, but hope for her, for them. She saw a 
reason to fight, a real reason she could touch and more 
importantly, feel. She saw an unconditional love that 
mirrored her own. It was all she could do not to bask in 
the warm glow of it, even for a moment.

"I can't even cry for them," she said, looking away. "I owe 
them that. I owe them my grief and I can't even cry for 
them."

He stepped over to her, encouraged when she didn't move 
away as he drew closer. He carefully laid his hands on her 
hips and pulled her gently to his body. She shivered in his 
arms and he could feel her body tense as he touched her.

"Neo, how is it that most of the only family I've ever 
known in this world is dead and all I can think about is 
you?" she asked.

He pulled her closer to him in a tight embrace and felt her 
body sigh deeply into his. She buried her face in his neck 
and wrapped her arms around his torso, her fingers grabbing 
handfuls of him, cloth and skin, desperate to hold onto all 
of him. He reveled at how the contours of her body fit 
perfectly against him, at how right it was to have her 
there against him.

"It doesn't seem right," she said into his neck. "It 
doesn't seem right to feel so complete when they can't feel 
anything at all."

He pulled back slightly until her head rose up to look at 
him. He felt the weight of her questions and fears, felt 
the ache of them as she searched his eyes for some sort of 
answer. He leaned his head down until his lips gingerly met 
hers, soft and without expectation. When he pulled back, 
her eyes glistened with tears.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

"Don't be."

She moved her head in and captured his mouth with her own, 
kissing him deeply, filling him with herself. He responded 
eagerly, parting his lips and drinking the taste of her in. 
When they parted, each gasped for air to fill their lungs 
again.

No more words were spoken as she took his hand and led him 
from the core.

* * *

It felt new. It had been longer than she cared to admit 
since she had been this close to someone. She hadn't even 
realized how much she had missed simple human contact until 
he was invading her every personal space.

His mouth was wet on her neck, his hands mapping each peak 
and valley of her body. Eyes closed and mouth agape, her 
head fell back, exposing even more of her skin to him. She 
was vaguely aware of her own hands, slowly slipping beneath 
the hem of his shirt and resting softly against the heated 
skin of his back. He groaned against her at the touch, the 
low sound reverberating down deep between her legs.

She made quick work of gathering the rough material of the 
shirt in her hands and pushing it up along his body, 
forcing him to pull back enough to shed it completely. She 
looked up at him, hair tousled and eyes blazing, mouth open 
as ragged breaths escaped through swollen lips, and knew 
that all she had ever seen, done, and experienced in her 
life was but mere preparation for this very moment.

The need for a connection with him, physically and 
otherwise, overwhelmed her. Her kisses were sloppy and her 
hands nimble as they fought with his to remove the 
remainder of their clothing. He pressed his nude body into 
his, forcing her down onto the bed until he was stretched 
out above her. She cradled him easily, her hips grinding up 
into his, encouraging and pleading.

His forehead landed softly against her own, his eyes 
squeezed shut as his breathing grew ragged. She reached her 
hands up and cradled his face, her thumbs stroking his 
cheeks lightly.

"Neo," she breathed.

He slowly opened his eyes to look at her, his struggle for 
composure becoming more and more difficult as each second 
passed. She willed her body to lie still beneath him.

"Just relax," she said, wiping the beads of sweat that had 
gathered at his hairline. "Relax..."

His body obeyed, slowly, carefully, and she could see him 
regain some measure of his control as each second passed.

"I'm sor—" he started to say, but she blocked the apology 
quickly with a searing kiss that poured over them both.

He gently ground his hips into her, his movements insistent 
and purposeful. She lifted herself slightly to meet him and 
with a few short strokes, he was inside her. Her inner 
muscles contracted around him immediately, then expanded, 
all the while encouraging him along. He still struggled, 
his movements not nearly as fluid as he would have liked, 
but none if it mattered as she felt her own release 
looming. One strategically placed finger between them 
catapulted her into climax and the strained sound that 
escaped her mouth sent him into oblivion after her.

A thin layer of sweat covered their bodies as he collapsed 
on top of her, all strength draining from his limbs. She 
gently nudged him until he rolled over next to her, his 
heart beating brutally against his chest as she curled her 
herself next to him. She listened to the sounds of his 
breath, counting each one, falling into the rhythm that 
signified his vitality.

It wasn't until those breaths became deep and even that she 
began to cry. The tears silently trailed down her cheeks 
and over her lips, salty on her tongue when it darted out 
to catch some of the liquid. Thoughts of leaving him now, 
sleeping alone in another room and grieving apart from him, 
swam through her head. She looked up at his face, calm in a 
sleep he needed just as much as she. Sleep would always be 
elusive for him, a constant that refused to waver, and she 
was grateful that he was able to find it now. 

She wiped her tears and slowed her breathing, carefully 
sitting up next to him. She waited until she was certain he 
hadn't been disturbed until swinging her legs over the side 
of the bed. Again she waited, encouraged by his 
unresponsiveness, before standing up. She gathered her 
clothing from various spots around his room and quickly put 
them back on, eliciting no more than a slight snore from 
him as she did so.

She looked down at him, studying his features. He looked 
much younger than his years, his skin pale and still 
relatively smooth, his face untouched by the hardships of a 
war. She hated to look at herself in a mirror for that 
exact reason, hated seeing the lines of stress that had 
drawn themselves around her features; she was the very 
picture of a seasoned veteran before the age of thirty.

She leaned over and gently drew a blanket over his 
unclothed body. She glanced around the room once more to 
confirm nothing of hers remained. All evidence she had been 
there would be safely stowed and carried away.

She knew he wouldn't be angry that she had left. She could 
probably make the decision to never speak to him again and 
he wouldn't get mad at her. Not that she ever would. It was 
simply the power she knew she suddenly held that fascinated 
her for a few fleeting seconds. Their salvation lied with 
him, but his heart lied with her.

She shook her head of the thoughts and walked out the door, 
heading back to the post she had deserted at the core. She 
knew he would come looking for her soon. Morning was just 
within reach and she never was one to break her promises.

* * *
end