Live Truly, My Heart: Pt. 11
This is Trinity's story - Slightly AU in the name of Fun With Narrative (it will become more AU as the story goes on).
Note: Apoc and Mouse have not yet joined the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar.
Part One: Real
Part Two: Search and Rescue
Part Three: The Oracle Speaks
Part Four: Revelations
Part Five: Half of Her Heart
Part Six: Batteries
Part Seven: Life Goes On
Part Eight: Shattered Flight
Part Nine: Truth Be Told
Part Ten: Goodbye, My Friend
Title: Live Truly, My Heart
Fandom: The Matrix
Characters: Trinity, Switch, Apoc, Mention of Ginger.
Pairing: Switch/Trinity, Switch/Apoc
Rating: R (for non-explicit sex)
Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
The evening following the funeral is a quiet one.
The three of us share a meal of rice and tomatoes - rare and delicious for those of us who are used to living on single celled proteins and synthetic vitamins.
After, once the dishes are washed, Apoc slips out the door, promising to be back soon. Switch and I fill the tin tub with water, set out the drying rack on its reed mat, scrub and hang the laundry in silence.
I watch the way she rubs the soap into our clothes, the way the muscles in her arms move as she scrubs, the frown of her concentration.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, wringing out a shirt, assuming it’s the funeral.
She sighs, turns her eyes to me.
“Apoc’s requesting a transfer,” she says, as if she’s expecting a battle. “To the Neb.”
“I-I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” I confess, chewing my lower lip.
If Apoc joins the crew - I can’t think of any reason why Morpheus wouldn’t take him, although maybe his own captain won’t want to let him go - if he joins the Neb… He’ll be there all the time.
“I... I know,” Switch murmurs. “I’m sorry. But we’re not gonna get another chance like this-”
“I know,” I cut her off, softly. “Switch, I know. I understand.”
I realize that my knees are getting wet, that I’m still holding the wrung-out shirt in my hands. I hang it on the rack, hastily, wiping my hands on my already damp clothes.
I understand, maybe better than I’d like, that having Apoc on board with us will mean that Switch sleeps better at night, that she will lose the lonely, haunted look that she wears sometimes, when I know she’s thinking about him, worrying about him.
I know this is a good thing.
But…
I shake my head.
“I guess it’s just... When’s he’s around, it feels like you only want to be with him - which is fine - or as close to ‘fine’ as it can be right now - when you only see him a couple of times a year. But when he’s not around... I see you looking for him in the Bay, and I know the look you get when you’re thinking about him, and... I feel like I’ve walked into the middle of a, of a marriage, and I feel... invisible sometimes. Like you’re only with me to keep your mind off him for a while.”
Fuck.
I can see the hurt in her pale eyes.
Maybe that was too honest.
“That’s not true,” her voice is tight. The laundry tub by her knees is forgotten. “Trinity,” she’s shaking her head. “That isn’t true.”
I watch her swallow.
“I can’t pretend he doesn’t mean anything to me-”
“I know,” I cut in, holding up my hand, not wanting to fight. "I don’t want you to. It's just..." I sigh, shifting, turning more fully towards her. “Switch... I was only just starting to get used to the idea of being around you two as a couple, and now...” I trail off, not sure how to proceed.
Quietly, Switch takes my hand, squeezes my fingers.
I swallow, take a breath.
“I’ve never done this before,” I murmur, confessing, hoping she understands, hoping she’ll be patient.
"I know," she answers. "Believe me, I know." She shakes her head. “There have been lots of others,” she tells me. “But nothing like this. It’s always been him and me and the understanding that, if anyone else came along, that would be fine. But everyone else who came along... I cared about them, but I didn’t love them. Not until you.”
She tells me how she used to watch me, before I ever met Morpheus, when they were keeping their eyes on me through the scanner. She tells me she used to work double shifts just for the chance to look at me.
“Really?” I ask, surprised. I hadn’t expected that.
“Yeah,” she answers, looking away. She seems embarrassed, like she shouldn’t have spent so much energy on someone who might or might not have ever woken up. “Ginger used to tease me about it.”
“I’ll bet,” I offer, feeling a twinge of sadness.
Switch swallows, turns back to the washing.
She shrugs, picking up a waterlogged tunic, rubbing soap into the cloth.
“He’s used to it,” she says, almost at random.
“What?”
“Apoc. He’s used to me having other... people. Maybe, if he weren’t, he’d be having as much trouble as you are.” She glances at me, sidelong, passing me the tunic to wring out and hang. “The messages I leave him are full of stuff about you.”
I wring out the heavy fabric, watching its cargo of water cascade back into the tub.
I think about this.
In a year and a half, I’ve learned a lot about my crew-mates. Switch doesn’t open up to people easily. Even with me, she usually keeps her cards pretty close to her chest. But if she says that her letters are full of me, then they are. She doesn’t lie about stuff like that.
“I need this to work,” Switch murmurs, her quiet voice urgent. “For all of us. I need it to.”
“I know,” I answer. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise that it’ll be easy.”
She nods.
"I’m not expecting it to be." She reaches for my hand again, squeezes it, gently. "As long as you’ll try, that’s enough."
Much later, after I have gone to bed, after she has kissed me and sat up beside me, waiting for me to sleep. Much later, I wake in the night to the sound of whispers in the room.
“You got it?”
Silence. Nodding? Something else?
The soft in-drawing of breath, the sound of lips meeting lips, then:
“Will you come tonight?” I recognize his voice, low, touched with urgency or need.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “It’s hard enough for her already. I need to be here.”
More busy silence, the sound of bodies moving together.
“Then let me stay?”
The sound of her breath, quickening.
"Oh god..."
In the dark, I listen to them, knowing what they are doing.
Part of me wishes I could go back to sleep, blissfully ignorant of what’s going on in the deep shadows beyond the bed.
Part of me feels like a peeping tom, like I should hide my head under the blankets and plug my ears instead of paying attention to what is so obviously private and intimate.
Part of me listens to Switch, the way she sighs, and wonders if Apoc is doing the same things I do to make her breath hitch like that.
I catch the faint scent of lust in the air, listen to the way they pant and sigh together, and part of me is ashamed at how quickly, how hungrily, I respond, at the heat that kindles inside me, at the way my thighs slick at the sound of them.
I don’t know how long I lie in the dark, willing my hands away from my own body and listening.
I must have fallen asleep, eventually, because I find myself waking up again, this time with her bare arm draped around me. I half expect to see the dark shape of Apoc, either sleeping on the rug or tucked into the bed (how would we all fit?) with us, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
I turn over, carefully, trying not to wake her, and she mumbles in her sleep, repositioning her arm and smacking her lips, lightly.
My mouth quirks.
I think she’ll probably shoot me if I ever tell her she’s ‘cute’ - even under the most benign circumstances - but god... All the steel goes out of her when she sleeps.
Even this close, she’s not much more than a slightly paler shape in the darkness. Even still, I watch her sleep, listen to the rise and fall of her breathing.
I remember the way her breath hitched and caught last night, and trace the muscled length of her arm before I can stop myself.
“Hmmm?” her sleepy voice, beside me. I feel her shift. “G’morning,” she murmurs.
“Morning,” I answer, softly. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay,” she assures me, her hand brushing over my back.
I bend to drop a kiss on her face.
A chuckle.
“On my chin?” she asks, amused.
“Oh, god, was it? I can’t hardly see you in here.”
I feel her hand trace my back, my shoulder, then my neck, my jaw. Her fingers find my mouth, and I kiss them.
“Hold still,” she murmurs, shifting again.
I feel her breath on my lips, and then her fingers slip away, and she is kissing me, her hand cupping my cheek. I let myself melt into her kiss, slipping my arm under her neck, enjoying the taste of her mouth, the softness of her lips.
“See?” she murmurs, pulling away. “Easy.”
I close the scant space between us again, finding her mouth this time, kissing her hungrily, wanting more.
“What brought this on?” she asks, amused, between kisses.
“I, uh,” I falter, embarrassed. “I... overheard you two last night.”
“Shit, did you?” she sounds surprised, dismayed. “I’m sorry-”
“It’s okay,” I answer, hastily, kissing her again. "It, uh... It had good results."
She chuckles.
"So I gather."
I brush her nose with mine.
“I take it Apoc got the job?”
“...Yeah.” I can hear the quiet joy in her voice, can imagine the smile on her face, even if I can’t see it clearly.
My fingers brush over her soft skin.
“Best make the most of it,” I murmur, “while I’ve got you to myself.”
She chuckles, softly.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
“Oh, no,” I answer, drawing close again. “Thank you.”
*~*~*~*~*
Part Twelve: Negotiations
Comments and con-crit are always appreciated (but you knew that already). :-D
- TTFN,
- Amazon. :-)
Note: Apoc and Mouse have not yet joined the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar.
Part One: Real
Part Two: Search and Rescue
Part Three: The Oracle Speaks
Part Four: Revelations
Part Five: Half of Her Heart
Part Six: Batteries
Part Seven: Life Goes On
Part Eight: Shattered Flight
Part Nine: Truth Be Told
Part Ten: Goodbye, My Friend
Title: Live Truly, My Heart
Fandom: The Matrix
Characters: Trinity, Switch, Apoc, Mention of Ginger.
Pairing: Switch/Trinity, Switch/Apoc
Rating: R (for non-explicit sex)
Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
The evening following the funeral is a quiet one.
The three of us share a meal of rice and tomatoes - rare and delicious for those of us who are used to living on single celled proteins and synthetic vitamins.
After, once the dishes are washed, Apoc slips out the door, promising to be back soon. Switch and I fill the tin tub with water, set out the drying rack on its reed mat, scrub and hang the laundry in silence.
I watch the way she rubs the soap into our clothes, the way the muscles in her arms move as she scrubs, the frown of her concentration.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, wringing out a shirt, assuming it’s the funeral.
She sighs, turns her eyes to me.
“Apoc’s requesting a transfer,” she says, as if she’s expecting a battle. “To the Neb.”
“I-I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” I confess, chewing my lower lip.
If Apoc joins the crew - I can’t think of any reason why Morpheus wouldn’t take him, although maybe his own captain won’t want to let him go - if he joins the Neb… He’ll be there all the time.
“I... I know,” Switch murmurs. “I’m sorry. But we’re not gonna get another chance like this-”
“I know,” I cut her off, softly. “Switch, I know. I understand.”
I realize that my knees are getting wet, that I’m still holding the wrung-out shirt in my hands. I hang it on the rack, hastily, wiping my hands on my already damp clothes.
I understand, maybe better than I’d like, that having Apoc on board with us will mean that Switch sleeps better at night, that she will lose the lonely, haunted look that she wears sometimes, when I know she’s thinking about him, worrying about him.
I know this is a good thing.
But…
I shake my head.
“I guess it’s just... When’s he’s around, it feels like you only want to be with him - which is fine - or as close to ‘fine’ as it can be right now - when you only see him a couple of times a year. But when he’s not around... I see you looking for him in the Bay, and I know the look you get when you’re thinking about him, and... I feel like I’ve walked into the middle of a, of a marriage, and I feel... invisible sometimes. Like you’re only with me to keep your mind off him for a while.”
Fuck.
I can see the hurt in her pale eyes.
Maybe that was too honest.
“That’s not true,” her voice is tight. The laundry tub by her knees is forgotten. “Trinity,” she’s shaking her head. “That isn’t true.”
I watch her swallow.
“I can’t pretend he doesn’t mean anything to me-”
“I know,” I cut in, holding up my hand, not wanting to fight. "I don’t want you to. It's just..." I sigh, shifting, turning more fully towards her. “Switch... I was only just starting to get used to the idea of being around you two as a couple, and now...” I trail off, not sure how to proceed.
Quietly, Switch takes my hand, squeezes my fingers.
I swallow, take a breath.
“I’ve never done this before,” I murmur, confessing, hoping she understands, hoping she’ll be patient.
"I know," she answers. "Believe me, I know." She shakes her head. “There have been lots of others,” she tells me. “But nothing like this. It’s always been him and me and the understanding that, if anyone else came along, that would be fine. But everyone else who came along... I cared about them, but I didn’t love them. Not until you.”
She tells me how she used to watch me, before I ever met Morpheus, when they were keeping their eyes on me through the scanner. She tells me she used to work double shifts just for the chance to look at me.
“Really?” I ask, surprised. I hadn’t expected that.
“Yeah,” she answers, looking away. She seems embarrassed, like she shouldn’t have spent so much energy on someone who might or might not have ever woken up. “Ginger used to tease me about it.”
“I’ll bet,” I offer, feeling a twinge of sadness.
Switch swallows, turns back to the washing.
She shrugs, picking up a waterlogged tunic, rubbing soap into the cloth.
“He’s used to it,” she says, almost at random.
“What?”
“Apoc. He’s used to me having other... people. Maybe, if he weren’t, he’d be having as much trouble as you are.” She glances at me, sidelong, passing me the tunic to wring out and hang. “The messages I leave him are full of stuff about you.”
I wring out the heavy fabric, watching its cargo of water cascade back into the tub.
I think about this.
In a year and a half, I’ve learned a lot about my crew-mates. Switch doesn’t open up to people easily. Even with me, she usually keeps her cards pretty close to her chest. But if she says that her letters are full of me, then they are. She doesn’t lie about stuff like that.
“I need this to work,” Switch murmurs, her quiet voice urgent. “For all of us. I need it to.”
“I know,” I answer. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise that it’ll be easy.”
She nods.
"I’m not expecting it to be." She reaches for my hand again, squeezes it, gently. "As long as you’ll try, that’s enough."
Much later, after I have gone to bed, after she has kissed me and sat up beside me, waiting for me to sleep. Much later, I wake in the night to the sound of whispers in the room.
“You got it?”
Silence. Nodding? Something else?
The soft in-drawing of breath, the sound of lips meeting lips, then:
“Will you come tonight?” I recognize his voice, low, touched with urgency or need.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “It’s hard enough for her already. I need to be here.”
More busy silence, the sound of bodies moving together.
“Then let me stay?”
The sound of her breath, quickening.
"Oh god..."
In the dark, I listen to them, knowing what they are doing.
Part of me wishes I could go back to sleep, blissfully ignorant of what’s going on in the deep shadows beyond the bed.
Part of me feels like a peeping tom, like I should hide my head under the blankets and plug my ears instead of paying attention to what is so obviously private and intimate.
Part of me listens to Switch, the way she sighs, and wonders if Apoc is doing the same things I do to make her breath hitch like that.
I catch the faint scent of lust in the air, listen to the way they pant and sigh together, and part of me is ashamed at how quickly, how hungrily, I respond, at the heat that kindles inside me, at the way my thighs slick at the sound of them.
I don’t know how long I lie in the dark, willing my hands away from my own body and listening.
I must have fallen asleep, eventually, because I find myself waking up again, this time with her bare arm draped around me. I half expect to see the dark shape of Apoc, either sleeping on the rug or tucked into the bed (how would we all fit?) with us, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
I turn over, carefully, trying not to wake her, and she mumbles in her sleep, repositioning her arm and smacking her lips, lightly.
My mouth quirks.
I think she’ll probably shoot me if I ever tell her she’s ‘cute’ - even under the most benign circumstances - but god... All the steel goes out of her when she sleeps.
Even this close, she’s not much more than a slightly paler shape in the darkness. Even still, I watch her sleep, listen to the rise and fall of her breathing.
I remember the way her breath hitched and caught last night, and trace the muscled length of her arm before I can stop myself.
“Hmmm?” her sleepy voice, beside me. I feel her shift. “G’morning,” she murmurs.
“Morning,” I answer, softly. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay,” she assures me, her hand brushing over my back.
I bend to drop a kiss on her face.
A chuckle.
“On my chin?” she asks, amused.
“Oh, god, was it? I can’t hardly see you in here.”
I feel her hand trace my back, my shoulder, then my neck, my jaw. Her fingers find my mouth, and I kiss them.
“Hold still,” she murmurs, shifting again.
I feel her breath on my lips, and then her fingers slip away, and she is kissing me, her hand cupping my cheek. I let myself melt into her kiss, slipping my arm under her neck, enjoying the taste of her mouth, the softness of her lips.
“See?” she murmurs, pulling away. “Easy.”
I close the scant space between us again, finding her mouth this time, kissing her hungrily, wanting more.
“What brought this on?” she asks, amused, between kisses.
“I, uh,” I falter, embarrassed. “I... overheard you two last night.”
“Shit, did you?” she sounds surprised, dismayed. “I’m sorry-”
“It’s okay,” I answer, hastily, kissing her again. "It, uh... It had good results."
She chuckles.
"So I gather."
I brush her nose with mine.
“I take it Apoc got the job?”
“...Yeah.” I can hear the quiet joy in her voice, can imagine the smile on her face, even if I can’t see it clearly.
My fingers brush over her soft skin.
“Best make the most of it,” I murmur, “while I’ve got you to myself.”
She chuckles, softly.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
“Oh, no,” I answer, drawing close again. “Thank you.”
*~*~*~*~*
Part Twelve: Negotiations
Comments and con-crit are always appreciated (but you knew that already). :-D
- TTFN,
- Amazon. :-)