Back again, my friends! I've had a lot of requests to write more Trinity/Smith fic, and today I decided to grant your wish. This is almost a direct follow-on from my last Trinity/Smith oneshot "Gravitate", so do yourself a favour and go and read that first, or this will make no sense to you. Or, if you have read it already, feel free to go and refresh your memory, I can always use the readership :)
Trinity jolted out of a dream filled with cascading shadows and cold, cold eyes, an aborted cry catching in her chest, jagged like a piece of metal. Her eyes, heavy-lidded with sleep, darted keenly from one corner of the darkened cabin to the other before her mind roused itself enough to realise that there was no threat. Even so, she was wide awake now, more alert than she'd ever been.
Her shoulder was killing her. She'd been checked over almost as soon as she'd jacked out, proclaimed unhurt aside from a slight strain. Her health and wellbeing ascertained, everyone had pounced on her at once, asking the same question.
In truth, she had no answer for them. They wouldn't be able to understand the simple truth. She barely understood it herself. An Agent had saved her from certain death, and the entire concept made no sense in the face of everything she'd been taught. And now, especially now, with her tired and aching and confused, it still made no damn sense.
One thing did make sense, though. She wasn't likely to get any more sleep until she got the pain in her shoulder to quit.
So she got up, ignoring the chill in the air that never really went away, to go and hunt down some pain relief.
She took two of the little capsules she found, and then, after a little consideration, an extra one, in the hopes that it would help her to sleep. She had no intention of dreaming any more tonight.
Her face, reflected in her water cup, was pale, her hair sticking up every which way. For a moment, she saw a flash of her face as it had been reflected in the chill black glass of the Agent's glasses. Terrified.
An Agent would sneer, call me pathetic. And then, probably, let go of me. Watch as I fell to my death.
Forget about it, Trinity. Just be thankful you're still alive.
She shut her eyes, rested her forehead against the cold steel surface of the table, tried in vain to shut her brain up.
He held me so tightly. She'd expected to see bruises on her forearm, fingerprints betraying her, betraying them both. She lightly fingered the area now, remembering the throb and burn of flesh squeezed too tightly.
Agents didn't save lives. It was not in their programming.
What had happened to her… was impossible. It should not have been able to happen at all.
And yet here she was.
One thing was for certain, Trinity thought as a wave of drug-induced drowsiness washed over her, she was going to have to find a way to talk to this Agent.
That could definitely be an interesting conversation, Trin. This story does have a second part, from Agent Smith's POV, and I'll probably try and post that either later on tonight or tomorrow, depending on my mood. As always, remember to leave feedback (constructive or otherwise) and I am always open for requests.