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The wavering light of candle stubs skipped around the walls of the small cabin. Stone shelves, dented metal crates, and scattered tools reflected in the warm orange glow; their long, undulating shadows seemed to quiver in sympathy with the room's muted heartbeat. There was no true night, not here, deep underground, but this silence carried the weight of darkness. The kind of silence that follows after releasing something sacred, something transient. Music had stopped a long time ago. The sweat of the crowd evaporated. Lovers had departed to their quarters. Warriors retreated into their thoughts. The memory of joy, flowing away like smoke.
Neo and Trinity were entwined below a thin woven sheet, their bodies still humming from the intimacy of earlier closeness. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, and the truth lingered, palpable, in the press of flesh and the quiet catch of breaths. They were holding onto each other with a love built against the backdrop of inevitability. A love that dwelled in candlelight and fear.
Her head rested on his chest, hair brushing the fine line of his collarbone. Fingers traced the underside of his arm, curling around his heart in sync with its pulse, pressing gently as if she could keep him there. Neo's hand wandered across her shoulder, mapping her back in gradual, contemplative strokes, drawing lines he had discovered by instinct. His other hand rested possessively on her waist, palm open on the small hollow beneath her ribs, keeping her closer without words. They fell into a shared rhythm. The silence was not emptiness; it was a conversation older than language. They spoke in heartbeats, in the heat of skin against skin. Only this moment remained.
Trinity stirred first, moving just enough to turn her gaze towards him. Neo's eyes opened, dark and infinite, as if emerging from a sleep, but his expression was unguarded, naked, the kind of vulnerability he reserved only for her. Light reflected each fleeting victory and defeat of the soul.
"How do you feel?" she asked softly. Fingers slowed their motion across her skin. Neo's eyes flicked to hers, then away, and he spoke in a rough voice.
"Like I'm waking up inside another dream. And everyone's waiting for me to explain it." His eyes stared into a distance that only he could see.
She shifted, settling gently over him under the sheet. It wasn't seduction, it was a necessity - the craving for connection in the presence.
"You're here," she whispered against his lips, "but you're not." Neo did not answer. She framed his face, her thumb brushing over the line of his cheekbone, fingers caressing the tender spot behind his ear. Neo's mouth parted, his eyes closing just a second longer than needed. A grounding ritual, only they understood.
"I feel like you are drifting to something I can't see," her breath warm on his temple.
He shook his head slowly. "It's me..." Her hands slid to his shoulders, reassuring. Neo's chest rose and fell with uneven rhythm, as if each inhale carried both longing and concern.
"I see things," he admitted, almost confessional.
Trinity moved slightly, pressing her forehead against his. "In the Matrix?"
"No...," he said. "It doesn't mean anything." Then he kissed her, not out of hunger, but with the wish to seize reality in the taste of her lips. She kissed him back, giving him that, but when they separated, her eyes never left his.
"Whatever it is, I've seen death, Neo. I've walked through it.” She said carefully. He looked away. Trinity retook his face, her hands firm and steady. He pulled her close in a wild hug, almost smothering her.
"I couldn't live without you."
Neo enveloped her in a tight embrace, holding her entirely as though she was the only reason the world didn't fall apart. His hand moved up to cradle her neck. Her fingers threaded into his hair, tangling lightly. Trinity kissed his temple, then his cheek, then finally his mouth. Not rushed. But absolute.
Their bodies swayed once more, hands searching with a tenderness rooted in trust, driven by affirmation and unspoken promises. They didn't seek ecstasy but embraced each other through it. Mouths explored with purpose, brushing over sensitive skin, tracing lines of the body, inducing shivers and quiet moans. Fingers intertwined, palms pressed together, lips and tongues tracking, mapping, claiming. The intensity ebbed and flowed, punctuated by soft sighs, gasps, and whispers, each touch, each movement a wordless love letter. Sensations overwhelming, all consuming. She lowered herself onto him, hip to hip, a primal rhythm older than the war they fought. Neo groaned low, caught between surrender and control. His hands slid along her sides, worshipping her, grasping handfuls of her hair, gazing into her eyes with a devotion that threatened to undo him. There were no words necessary. The candlelight carved them in a golden, fragile, and real light. Time had no meaning. A covenant that required no witnesses.
Afterwards, exhaustion washed over, gentle and merciful. Trinity snuggled into Neo, back to his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her, hand resting beneath her sternum. He nuzzled into her shoulder. She exhaled, her hand covering his.
"You don't have to be the One tonight," she whispered into the pillow.
"I know." He nodded against her bare skin. There was a thick silence as minds travelled. Some minutes later, her calm voice came back.
"Do you believe it could end tomorrow?"
"I try not to think about tomorrow," he said, his voice breaking a little.
He wanted to tell her. That every vision, every nightmare had shown him her falling, again and again, had shown him the end in unbearable agonising clarity. That every time he closed his eyes, she died. But he didn't. Not because of fear or mistrust, but because saying it aloud would make it real. So he kissed the back of her neck instead and said nothing.
Trinity fell asleep first, her breath deep and even. Neo stayed awake, observing the shadows on the walls, watching them die out one by one, flicker by flicker. And when his mind finally rested, he once again dreamt of losing her.
Outside, the corridors of Zion were still mercifully peaceful. The Oracle hadn't summoned them yet.
Two souls clung to one another with a desperation only love forged in fire and war could know. Before the fall, before the bullets, before the ultimate choice.
——
Ballard's boots echoed away down the hall, hollow against the metal floor. The iron door shut with a hiss, and the room was full with a hush that settled like dust, thick and unyielding. Trinity leaned back against the door, white robe tied loosely at the waist. For a long beat, she did not move, as if the air itself might carry away this moment if disturbed. Neo stayed where he was, standing still, eyes fixed on the disc in his hands. Fingers clenched around it, tense, as though it might disappear if he looked away. It felt impossibly heavy, burdened not with weight, but with consequence. Her eyes skittered back and forth between Neo's face and the object he held.
"That's it then," she said quietly. Not a question. Not an invitation. Just a statement. One he acknowledged without looking up.
"Are you going to plug it in?" she asked, voice calm, curious, but threaded with something unspoken.
Neo turned the disc over in his hand once again before placing it carefully on the table beside the bunk. "No."
Her brow arched. "Don't you want to know what she has to say?"
"I already do," he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Elbows braced on knees, hands folded. His gaze was distant, somewhere beyond the walls, beyond Zion itself. She pushed off the door and walked toward him slowly, crossing the room to sit beside him. Her robe shifted over her body, hinting at the strength beneath the fabric, the curves so familiar and sacred to him. The mattress dipped under her weight. Their shoulders brushed. Their fingers barely touched at first, then more insistently as she settled.
"She told you something before," she whispered. "About this. About what it would mean. Something you've been carrying."
Neo nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the space before them.
"She said I'd have to make a choice. Between what matters most and what the world needs." A pause stretched.
"And what if that's the same thing?" Trinity's voice wasn't much above the level of thought.
Neo's eyes met hers, raw and sincere.
"What if it isn't?"
She felt the stress woven through his frame, a quiet tension, an unnamed burden pressing down on his shoulders.
"I saw Councillor Hamman last night," he went on. "Took me to the engineering level. I couldn't sleep."
"You never do," she said gently.
Neo smiled faintly. "We were watching the water recycling system. He said the machines were beautiful, in their own way. He said he didn't understand them, but he knew we needed them. Talked about control, about choices…" His voice trailed off, swallowed by the room.
They sat together, letting the stillness build. Trinity finally stood and began to gather their belongings, packing with a practised efficiency. Shirts, gear, boots, her motions precise, familiar, comforting. Neo watched as her robe loosened slightly, memorising every line of her shoulder as she bent, the contour of her breasts, her slender waist, the sway of her hips, her messy hair, and the bare soles of her feet.
"You know," she said without looking up, "I saw you when you stood on that rooftop, when you caught that cable and pulled me up. Not once did I think you'd let me fall."
She gave him a devoted and faithful look. Neo rose and moved towards her, drawn by an unseen tether. He could not exist another second without embracing this woman. Trinity put her hand on his chest. He leaned in, kissing her tenderly, hands slipping under the sheer garment and pulling her close to remember one more time the feel of her naked body. Time was always against them, a serene plea against the tick of fate.
Minutes passed in a silent routine. They finished dressing, fastening the boots, tightening their belts, checking the pouches, and securing the tools. Trinity bent to buckle the last strap, robe already replaced by a navy sweatshirt and black trousers. Neo picked up the disc. She reached for the light, but he lifted a hand.
"Wait," he said softly.
They stood there, close enough to feel the other breathe. Her hand found his, fingers threading through. Neo kissed her cheek, lips, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself this single, unbroken moment.
"I love you," he whispered, voice trembling. They kissed once more, and then they stepped into destiny together.