RATING: uuh… G-ish, PG-ish, somewhere in there. Pretty harmless.
CATEGORY: Romance
DISTRIBUTION:
If Scottishlass gives you her permission to distribute “Serenity,” then
I give you permission to distribute
“The Next
Morning” with it, provided this opening statement is attached, and so is
my email. But this story can’t really stand
apart from
“Serenity.”
DISCLAIMER:
The characters aren’t mine, I’m just having a little fun with them.
They belong to the Wachowskis and the
WB and all
those important folks. And I’m not making a single penny offa this.
THANKS:
First and foremost, thanks to Scottishlass for giving me the idea for this
story as well as permission to write it.
And, of course,
thanks to Mara Trinity Scully, my faithful editor, without whose stupendous
rippage my stories would be little
more than
a jumble of words on the page…
AUTHOR’S NOTES:
This is a companion fic to the story “Serenity” by Scottishlass.
I was reading “Serenity” awhile ago,
and as I finished
it, the beginnings of some nifty little ideas for a follow-up story began
to pop into my head, about what goes
through Neo’s
mind when he wakes up the morning after “Serenity” takes place. So
I got in touch with Scottishlass, and she
gave me permission
to write this. I drew on “The Lotus Eaters” and “THE BIG ONE” to
make sure I fully understood
Scottishlass’s
characterizations before starting, and she OK’d the story before I posted
it. She actually said (and I quote) that
“it’s so funny
how we write alike—it’s like an X-File!” and I nearly passed out from the
compliment. But I want to establish a
few ground
rules for all you readers out there:
1) Do
not read this story until after you’ve read “Serenity” by Scottishlass,
because it probably won’t make sense.
You
can link to it through my profile, it’s in my “favourite stories” list.
2) Do
NOT credit me with ANYTHING regarding “Serenity,” as I had absolutely NOTHING
to do with writing it.
It’s
100% Scottishlass’s genius. I just liked it, so basically, I’m writing
a fanfic of a fanfic here *g*.
3) When
you read “Serenity,” be kind and leave the Goddess of Matrix Fanfic a review,
wouldja? (No, she DID
NOT
ask me to put that in, I’m doing it of my own accord because damnit, she
deserves it!) It’s a fantastic little
gem
of a piece.
4) If
this story gives you the urge to write a companion fic for some other story
you’ve read, BE SURE TO GET
THE
ORIGINAL AUTHOR’S PERMISSION BEFORE YOU WRITE IT. I don’t want to
be blamed for tons of
unauthorized
companion fics suddenly appearing on this page…
Sorry, that was way too long. And now, at long last, I give you…
Following "Serenity": The Next Morning
by
Centaur
I wake from
dreamless sleep.
For the first
time since my unplugging, I feel refreshed. For a moment, it is almost
unnerving—I’ve become accustomed to
waking tangled
in sweat-drenched sheets, still trembling from whatever nightmare wracked
me in the night. Every night, I have
them--horrible,
horrible nightmares of death and pain and blood and loss—
And her.
Those are the
ones that kill me. They eat away at my soul, as though I’ve been
infested by something dark and evil. Because
what I do—what
we do—in my head is disgusting, and it revolts me that my subconscious
could produce such ideas, especially
considering
how much I care for her. They frighten me to the point that I’ve
almost stopped sleeping altogether.
I wish that
once, just once, I could have a dream that made me happy instead of afraid,
so that when I awoke I wouldn’t feel so
vile, like
I’d lost everything, and so damn alone--
But I’m not
alone.
As I slide
further into consciousness, I become aware of a warmth against my back,
a tickling at the base of my neck—
And I realise
she is with me.
Instantly,
I tense up, afraid that the slightest movement will wake her and end this
perfect moment. As if on cue, she shifts in her
sleep and
mumbles something, and her arm tightens around my chest. I wish I
could be facing her, to see her out of command
mode, when
her mind isn’t occupied with sentinels, agents, and exits.
I only know
Trinity, the leader and warrior.
I wonder what
Trinity, the woman, looks like.
Memories of
last night flood back to me, foggy and broken. My exhaustion was
keeping me from thinking clearly. For the
three nights
before, I hadn’t slept. I don’t know what possessed me to crawl out
of bed at that hour and come to her door. I
wanted to
knock but couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I just sat there in the corridor,
my ass freezing against the cold metal.
She would
be sleeping—God forbid I disturb her. But she came for me anyways,
even though I hadn’t knocked; she helped
me up and
invited me in, and I clutched fiercely to her cool fingers, afraid to let
go.
I realize that
I almost told her, last night. The first word came out—“I…”—but then
I caught her eyes, and once again felt her
hand in mine,
and the fear of being alone overcame me. “I’m so tired,” I said,
instead. And in her eyes—something changed.
Her hand rests
against my chest, now, and I can feel her arm tucked under mine, against
my ribcage. Very slowly, so as not to
wake her,
I wrap her fingers in mine. Only this time, our hands are both warm.
For the first
time in all my weeks on the Nebuchadnezzar, I am warm.
Suddenly, I’m
overcome with humiliation at my behaviour from last night. What a
fool she must think I am-- like a child, running
to her for
protection from my bad dreams. She took care of me. For an
instant the embarrassment overwhelms me, and I
consider slipping
out before she wakes. And then, again, I feel her shift, and I realize
there’s no way I can bring myself to
move.
I wonder what
I’ll say to her when she wakes up.
But I don’t
wonder for long, because I feel her stir, and her hand squeezes mine.
As she awakens, her breath quickens from
the deep,
slow, rhythmic pattern of sleep. I squeeze her hand in return.
“Did you sleep
well?” she asks me quietly.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I can’t see her, but I swear I can feel her smile.
Neither of
us moves for a few minutes. The lights and the heat come on, and
I realize that I hadn’t noticed the darkness or the
cold.
Eventually, she untangles her fingers from mine and sits up.
“We’d better
get going,” she says. “You have more training today.”
Stifling a
groan, I sit up beside her. My body is still aching from yesterday’s
training sims.
There is no
awkwardness between us, but I know this can’t go un-addressed.
“Trinity,”
I begin, “about what happened last night--”
“It’s okay,
Neo.”
“What?”
I look at her, amazed that she is not upset with me. Our eyes meet
for an instant, and something glows behind her
pupils before
she looks away.
“Don’t worry
about it. It’s okay.” She pauses, as if unsure what to say
next. “Neo, I--”
For a moment
I stop breathing, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe—
“—I think you
should go get some shoes on. I’ll meet you for breakfast.”
My heart drops
a foot in my chest. I nod, slowly, before standing and walking to
the door. Before I open it, I turn to face her
again:
“Trinity?”
“Yes?”
She looks up at me.
“Thank you.”
She smiles.
And without
another word, I slip out into the corridor.
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